#don't you dare touch my daughter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fioiswriting · 5 months

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Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.

Everything he wasn't.

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable.

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

***

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.

As if to unveil what he held within himself.

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.

An unpleasant heat.

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.

Jace almost choked.

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand.

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this.

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

***

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure.

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling.

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace.

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

***

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.

The sensation was delicious.

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.

You could see through his game.

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

***

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

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bluetimeombre · 9 days

Text

˚ · . Nothing fucks with my baby, ˚ · .

You are Hugh's young controversial girlfriend

[FINALLY! it's here, I have kept you all waiting, I hope I haven't disappointed! I said in the other posts that I wasn't gonna do much smut but I think I went more than even I thought. Got me blushing and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy, I'm still riding this Hugh train (want to be riding him) who said that?]

warnings: older man! younger reader! fem!reader. Not proof read. Smut! Penetration, riding, oral (both receiving) praise kink,

Only a bed separated you and Hugh.

"Ok, so we're gonna pick it up from where we left it last time," said the director. "Get ready."

Hugh was in black clad trousers, shirtless, 'sweat' that was really water sprayed. His hair was already messy, perfectly so as if you'd been running your hands through it.

You still had a robe on, your makeup artist touching the highlight to be 'sweat' while Hugh watches every sway of the brush on your cheeks.

The scene was this: Hugh's character seduces yours. Well, there was seduction on both ends, characters or not. It was the first kiss, the first sex scene, the first true intimacy between your two characters. It was hot, heavy, sensual and loving. It was supposed to be all gripping hands and racing pulses, moving bodes and fumbling lips.

But it was the first kiss scene you'd share with Hugh. There'd be plenty more to come, but the director thought it would capture the true emotions of your characters to get it first try.

"Yummy," whispered your makeup artist in your ear as she leant over, slowly un-doing the ties of your robe.

"Play nice," you mutter to her.

"You don't," she winked before parting with your robe, leaving you in your silk nightgown that fell mid-thigh.

Hugh gulped, his eyes raking over you as you smiled. Your nerves were sky high, but Hugh seemed already in character.

He played the groundskeeper in 1930's Britain, best friend of your 'father', playing blackmail and seducing his daughter. You. And boy was it easy for Hugh Jackman to seduce you.

The cast and crew had been great at making the both of you comfortable and you'd all been for dinners, lunch's, cast parties, yoga sessions. They'd done everything to make it comfortable. And it had worked. You and Hugh got on like a house on fire, always around, always laughing. But there were the lingering looks once the laughter died, or the 'goodnights' that lasted longer than appropriate, and the touches, the constant excuse for it.

Maybe it was because you were young, alluring to a man not long divorced from an almost thirty year marriage. Maybe it was because he was everything you ever wanted, but you had a feeling lines were going to be crossed. The pit in your stomach was either dread... or desire.

"Right, all set?" the director asked.

Hugh smiled, patted his thighs and nodded.

You flashed a smile too but wiped your palms down your dress, un-knowingly shuffling it on your chest.

Hugh caught the movement and gulped. He was screwed.

"Action!"

You watched as Hugh, in character, stalked toward you. As scripted, you took a step back, hitting the bedpost but kept his gaze. You were a headstrong character, and you could do that, even if your knees felt weak.

"You er, get dressed for me, pretty girl?" he asked. He slipped his fingers through the strap, fingers caressing your skin.

Your shiver wasn't scripted and as Hugh's eyes flickered to your own, you wondered if he knew that. "You should go."

"Your pa's not home."

"My mother is," you whispered, standing taller on the bed post as if you weren't afraid.

He smirked and dragged the strap down until he could see your bare shoulder. His eyes flickered back up to yours. "Wendy's a nice woman. She doesn't expect much."

A furrow in your brows, as planned. "How dare you-"

Hugh kissed you with such force your head came back to hit the bedpost but his hand was already cupping the back of your head, easing the thump as he pressed you against it.

It wasn't scripted.

His lips were as soft as they looked, mixed with the gruffness of his stubbly beard that dragged over your chin as he dived into you like a man starved of breath. You obeyed his every move, every tilt of his head you followed.

His teeth sunk into your lip and your gasped. His tongue dipped in, meeting yours gently asking for permission.

You grabbed his cheeks, drawing back enough to get a look at him. There was a wild frenzy in his eyes causing them to go darker, but beneath that you saw his concern, his worry that he'd gone to far.

Whether this was acting or not, you didn't care.

You drew him back in, lips smacking as passion pulled both your strings. He groaned as you obeyed him, body flattening against yours.

His hands raked down your shoulders, taking the straps with you as you gasp and shiver. The gown wasn't supposed to come off but at that rate, you didn't care if it slipped a little. Hugh's hands moved down your sides, to your hips, gripping the material and bunching it.

"You," he gasped against your lips.

He met your gaze and you smirked, challenging him. Luckily, it could all work in character.

You had no knickers or anything on. It was all to easy to see the line in the dress if you did.

Hugh groaned and brought your head back to his, tongue wasting no time in sweeping into your mouth, tasting every corner and marking it as your own.

He spun you around until he was against the bed, his knees buckling and falling, you in his lap.

He groaned into your mouth, loud enough for the microphone above you to hear. Your lips paused on his, hands crawling into his hair as you felt it.

He was hard, so incredibly hard.

Hugh's eyes were scrunched shut as you backed away a fraction, his tongue licking at his lips for a taste of you. Your hair was starting to stick to your head from real sweat.

His trousers were pulled over his crotch, highlighting the size of him as your mouth watered and your thighs tightened on him. His gaze was hooded as he watched you in silent awe.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you pressed yourself against him, feeling every ridge through the tiny fabric of your nightgown. God, he couple feel every warmth of you. How much you wanted him.

He pecked your lips and brought your bottom lip out with his teeth. From the cameras and the lights and the amount of people in the room, the sweat on the two of you started to be real, mixed with your pants and soft moans that weren't necessary for the scene but needed to pass between the two of you.

Your fingers dug into the back of his shoulders as your rocked yourself onto him, grinding onto his clothed crotch to feel something.

Hugh kept one hand on the back of your neck, occasionally drifting into your hair and tugging with every rock of your hips.

You wondered if the director would ever call cut and you hoped he never would. If it all ended here. Your only consoling thought was the amount of intimacy scene's you and Hugh would have to share together.

He grabbed you and rolled you over as planned until you were flat, chest heaving with breaths and he was kneeling over you. His hands went to his belt, twiddling to undo it.

In a frenzy of passion, your hands reached out to help, grazing his bulge. He watched you as he finally un did the belt and your nails scraped down his thighs.

Hugh loomed over you, grinding down into your cunt until he could feel how wet you were, his lips coming to your shoulder. He didn't have to bite, but he seemed satisfied with it.

"Cut!" called the director.

Your hands halted where they were in his hair and Hugh fell against you, caging you to the bed as you both panted.

"Well done, guys, that was great, you got it over and done with. Now for the rest of them, but that'll come gradual," said the director as both Hugh's and your team came to the bed.

Still, neither of you moved.

"Gradual, yeah," you panted, your hands still stroking back Hugh's hair until you realised what you were doing.

Hugh kissed your shoulder once before rolling from you and taking the robe offered to him. You took things slower, knees weak at just the memory of him.

You took the robe and wrapped yourself up.

Hugh glanced back at you, not once, twice.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

You’d thought about it all day. Even as you half-heartedly did the rest of the scenes for the day. Your head was only half on set, the other half focused on the feel of Hugh under you.

In your trailer that night you played your music, gripping your hair in one hand and riding your hand with the other, trying to re-make the magic of feeling him under you.

God, how wrong it was. He was your costar. Old enough to be your father and your celebrity crush for god knows how long. You couldn’t be with him even if you wanted to, he’d probably leave the project if he knew how you’d watched every semi pornographic scene with him in it just to get yourself off.

The knock on your trailer altered you.

Quickly you pushed yourself from bed and wiped your fingers on your shorts, rushing to answer the door.

Hugh’s hands were braced on either side of your trailer door, panting as if he’d ran a matharon before turning up at your step.

“Hugh,” you smiled, desperate to act casual. “What’s up?”

He sighed, staring at you dreamily. He didn’t wait for an invite in. “I thought we could practice, some more.”

You looked up at him. You must have looked a mess, flushed cheeks and devilish hair, but he didn’t look much better. He was in a casual top, black sweatpants low on his v-line.

Daring to peak, you could see the indent. He was still hard.

Your thighs clenched in together from the overwhelming heat. “Yeah, of course.”

You sat next to Hugh on the sofa where you’d left your last script. Your thigh against his, his finger grazing your knee.

You cleared your throat, trying to read when all you could do was bask in every little touch from him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” said Hugh. His eyes were on you, script forgotten.

Glancing from him to the script, you flicked a page. “I don’t- where does it say-”

With a rough hand, he tilted your jaw to him until your lips were a hairs breath away. His tongue flicked out, darting over your lips, begging. “Honey, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You gulped, mouth opening for breath or for him, you couldn’t tell which was more important. A hand crept up to cradle the back of his head. “I can’t tell if we’re practicing or not, Hugh.”

His head rested against yours as he moved it side to side. “Whatever gets you to fall in love with me.”

His eyes met yours.

“As if you even have to try.”

Your lips were soft and mouth wide as you received him, tongue gracing his mouth as he grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, the script crinkling between the two of you. Your hands were in his hair, grown longer for the part, then raking down his neck then over his shirt until you were gripping it in your hands, pulling him closer to you while you lost air.

Hugh pulled back enough to kiss your jaw, biting at the skin.

“Is this-“ you gasped, holding onto his shoulders. Your thoughts weren’t working, nothing was. All you could think was him, his hands on your hips.

Hugh's lips reluctantly dragged away from your skin, as if he'd die to be parted. "Is it what baby?" when he saw your concern, his desire dimmed. All he wanted was for you to be alright. "Tell me," he brushed back your hair, thumb pulling down your bottom lip, after all, he still needed you like you might die tomorrow.

You sat back on his lap, trying to distract yourself from the dampness in your pants. "Is this real?"

"Doesn't it feel real to you?" he laughed, rocking himself into you.

"Is this Hugh?" you whispered, "or just your character."

His eyes softened. Hugh cradled your cheeks, holding you to look at him. "This is me and you, honey. I-I know this all seems sudden, and we can stop if you want-"

"I'm not saying that," you quickly cut him off as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your neck. You wanted him, even if it meant heartbreak for you later.

He pulled back and looked up at you. "This is me wanting you. As y/n. As whatever you will give me. As my love, as my baby. As- as everything i've been thinking about for months. As everything I've been waiting for, baby," his thumb smoothed over your cheekbones as you nuzzled into his palms. "If i've made you feel like i'm using you i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, but this is real to me."

You glance up at him. Your lips press a kiss into his palm as you hold his hand to you. "Good," you mutter. You adjust yourself, settling down on his lap again until his clothed erection is begging for your wetness. "Because this is real to me too."

Hugh growled and kissed you, all tongue and teeth as he sort to get every piece of you in one. His arms, strong and large, wrapped around your back and held you into him until even when you pulled away to breathe, your breath was full of him.

With his strength, he pushed you down on your sofa, throwing the script behind him and pulling your legs until they were thrown on either side of his hips. He was lucky you were still in costume, your dress riding up to reveal your white panties, with a damp spot.

Hugh lied down, looking at your pussy as his one hand held down your hips, the other crawling up your chest to squeeze your breasts. "This real? This all for me, honey?"

"Yes," you gasp, running your hands through his hair as his salt and pepper beard scraped your thighs.

"You want me?"

"Yes, Hugh."

"How badly?"

"So, so badly," you whisper, eyes shut as his breath fans where you need him most. "Please baby, please."

He kissed over your panties. "So polite, honey. So good for me." He licked a stripe up, letting his tongue swirl over your clit.

Your back arches. As he repeated the motion before hooking his fingers through the band and slowly- agonisingly slowly- pulling down your panties and the scrunching them up in his hand.

He moaned at the sight of you dripping before him. How he had you panting by the smallest touches. You were his to touch. To ruin. To taint with him and only him. "Thought about this cunt of yours more than should be allowed."

You chuckle, propping yourself up to indulge in the sinful image of him between your thighs. "Yeah? Thought about it too."

"Tell me," he said. His eyes were on yours as he peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs, fingers indented into your flesh.

You moan, eyes fluttering shut. You think of every crude images you'd conjured in your mind. Him suffocating between your thighs, you sitting on his face, riding that perfect arched nose. Your mouth stuffed with his cock as he eats you out. Riding him. Up against a wall. Every filthy thing, you wanted to do with him. "Thought about your tongue, your cock, fingers, nose."

He laughed, glancing up at you. "My nose, huh?"

You chuckle with him, falling back and throwing your arms over your face. The laughter catches in your throat when you feel his tongue dive into your folds, the warmth spreading. You moan, legs going to close if it weren't for Hugh tapping them.

"Keep them open baby," his voice was rough in demand as he focused on you. On tasting you, on spreading your folds with his fingers- sliding them in and out to get a feel, as he shoved his tongue in depths you didn't know he could.

You bite down on the back of your hand, but your cry is barley muffled. "Fuck, baby."

Hugh eats you like he's starved man. He moans into your cunt, sending vibrations through your body that he receive gladly. It goes through him like you're one person. He finds himself grinding down on the sofa like a teenage boy. That's what you're doing to him, making him focus on you and not cumming before stuffing you with him.

"Hugh, I'm-" you mutter all too quickly.

"God, can't wait to taste you cum on my tongue, honey," he said. "You want my nose huh?" He stuffs his face into your pussy, tongue flicking up and down your folds as he nudges his nose on your clit repeatedly until he has your thighs shaking.

"Hugh!" you moan, holding onto his shoulder to stabilise yourself.

Hugh slides his fingers into you, using your wetness to his advantage as he continues to work you with his tongue. He slobbers, spitting down your folds and fingers as he works it into you, groaning at the sight. "Can't wait to feel this around me. God, I wanted you on my cock so bad, with the camera's watching, with the crew. Want them all to know an old man like me can have you falling in love."

"Always," you gasp, focusing on the warmth in your stomach and Hugh's fingers curling inside of you. "Want you to take me. Use me. Have me."

Hugh flattens himself against your sofa, groaning, eyes rolling in the back of his head like it's your mouth warm against is cock. He grips your hand that was on his shoulder and holds it until his fingers bleach white from the grip. He rests it on your sternum, looking up at you.

Wisps of your hair stick to your forehead, your chest spilling out the dress and rising and falling as your body trembles. You hold his hand just as tight, if not, tighter.

"Cum on my lips baby, please," he begged. "Want to taste you. Want to make you cum."

It took little more encouragement from you before you came on his tongue, gasping and grasping as you did. Hugh ate it up, licking the mess from your pussy and your lips. It has him quivering and knowing he'll need this taste every day just to keep him sane.

"Hugh?"

He glances back up at you. Your pink cheeks and wide eyes. He grins, licking his lips and wiping your juice from the corner of his lips and licking it from his fingers as he crawls back over you. He nudges his nose against yours and grins at your smile. "That was amazing."

"You're saying it like you just had the best orgasm of your life," you laugh.

His brows rose. "Best orgasm of your life, huh? I can give you plenty more where that came from?"

You smirk, running your hand from his chest to between his legs, rubbing your hand over his dick that trembles at your touch. Satisfaction gnaws at you as you watch his eyes shut and jaw clench.

"Baby, almost had me cumming in my pants like a teenager," he chuckled, shakily.

You tut, sitting up to have better access to his lap. "Can't be having that."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

That's how the rest of the months of filming were spent.

At first, the two of you agreed to take it slow. Little dinner dates, grabbing coffee together and walks in the local parks. Luckily it was known you were filming together and the paps weren't too fussed.

You tried to take it slow, but the sex was anything but.

In the mornings when you were inevitably in the make up chair first thing- as the star of the movie- Hugh would join you, passing you your coffee order and breakfast before taking a seat next to you and chatting away with you and the make-up artists. Even if he wasn't shooting that day, he was there. On the dot. Every day.

Your team of people smirked knowingly even if neither of you confirmed it. But the stolen stares and kind offerings were enough. Surprisingly, nobody warned him about being with one so young and neither you him much older as he was.

Because everyone knew it was true, real love. Because first, it came from friendship.

He helped you with scenes when you asked, helping the emotions play out. Even you gave him new perspectives of looking and taking om scenes. It was refreshing. Life with you was refreshing.

The more intimate scene's became harder, oddly enough. Because you'd get to into it, the director yelling cut several times to tear your bodies from each other. Then, when you were alone at night, you jumped on Hugh, climbing him like a tree.

Sometimes you couldn't wait till night and dragged him into your dressing room, sliding down to your knees and un-doing his belt.

"Eager?" he'd tease.

You wouldn't justify him with an answer. Your hands messaging his balls and tongue licking up his cock until you had him down your throat or stuffed in your cheeks was enough for him.

At the end, you had to stop reading scripts with Hugh as his glasses perched on his nose was too much for you.

Enough times he knew that and would eat you out wearing them. And only them. You'd watch the lenses steam up as he licked and moaned in you until you were cumming over his chin, sometimes landing on his glasses.

"Honey, you're too much," he grinned and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Dinner nights after long days always ended up with your foot gently trailing up his leg in his dress pants, his hand gripping your ankle as it inched closer to his cock, finger running circles.

Hugh would have to park in the dark and pull you onto his cock, ruining your dazzling dress and tearing the seams of his trousers to have his cock free and nuzzled into you.

One of your breasts was in his mouth as you rode him, his arm wrapped around your waist and helping you move. His cock warm and throbbing inside of you.

"Oh baby," he moaned around your breast, teeth pinching at your nipple. "Grip me like a dream."

His hand gripped your ass, pushing you and pushing you, throwing his head back and groaning out as the car rocked form your hard movements. It didn't matter how many times either of you had each other, it was a constant need never satisfied. You breathed new life into him and he wanted to use it all on you.

"Hugh, I need you!" you whined out even as his cock was deep in you.

But he got it. Because it wasn't enough for him. "I know, baby, I know!" he lurched forward and kissed you as you grabbed his cheek, keeping him there. Your tongues fought as you tried to catch your breath, bouncing on his cock. He growled. You whimpered.

"Fuck me, Hugh," you told him, biting down on his earlobe as you cuddled into him, bouncing on his dick as fast as you could to reach your third high that night.

"Shit, just there- right there!" he held your hips down as his cum spluttered into you, him growling and moaning out your name like prayer. Nobody in the world had been so devoted to something like Hugh was to you.

And the balance was perfect. The next night Hugh would join you in your trailer- where most your times were spent. You were curled into his side as he was shirtless, reading. Those annoyingly attractive glasses still there as he laughed at some parts of the book and you'd ask what it had said and he'd explain it to you while his fingers twirled strands of your hair.

The next day you'd be attached to him all day, lips forming as one as the camera rolled and the director gave you pointers. It was a scene of the two of you in the garden. Both indecent (although of course following Hollywood guidelines) Hugh didn't even let you up from his lap, instead holding you there as you both acted professional and took the director's words. You could fuck him, love him and work with him all you needed.

That night, Hugh would have you on the floor of his trailer, the two of you hardly making it through the door before he had his cock in your mouth, stirring you with his hands in your hair.

"Did so good today, my good girl, working so hard for everyone," he groaned as you chocked around his cock.

You took him deep and took him out, spitting over his cock and working him with your hand. "So big," you mumbled, drunk on having him. You sucked one of his balls into your mouth, devoting attention to both of them.

"Oh, fuck, y/n, you're gonna be the death of me. God, I just know you wanted to ride me with everyone watching, could feel how wet you were."

You take his cum down your throat, licking every last drop before you both fall asleep in his bed to film together the next day.

You both walk on set, laughing, smiling, with coffee in hands and every on set watches and smirks cause they know. Maybe they don't know all the filthy things you get up to, but they can see it's more than just another hollywood controversial talk.

But Hugh is in love with you.

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii, @wolviesgirl, @haytchee, @aoi-targaryen, @apizzacalledmel, @corvusmorte, @slut4you, @ellak69, (how you're only just on the taglist no idea babe), @wolverigrl

#hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool #logan howlett x reader #x men #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan x you #logan smut #logan howlett smut #hugh jackman x femreader #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman smut

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punkshort · 21 days

Text

Thank you anon for this request!

Part Two of A Deeper Purpose

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Now that your daughter is born, Joel is itching for another but you are still feeling a little discouraged with the way your body looks. He quickly puts an end to those feelings.

Warnings: language, fluff (absurd amounts), body worship, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!receiving), hand job, breastfeeding (does that need a warning? idk), discussions of pregnancy

WC: 3K

"I want another one, I really mean it."

You dropped your book in your lap and raised your eyebrows at Joel as he stepped into your bedroom and carefully shut the door behind him.

"Are you insane? We just had that one two months ago!" you reminded him.

He frowned at you like he was offended but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Don't call her that one, she's our daughter and her name is Emma," he scolded before yanking off his shirt and making a face when he realized he had spit up on the shoulder.

You rolled your eyes and tossed the covers off your legs. "Why don't we see how we adjust to being parents before we make any big decisions," you suggested as you walked toward your bathroom. Leaving the door open, you splashed water over your face with a little soap before brushing your teeth, all the while completely unaware of the way Joel was sitting on the edge of your bed staring at your bare legs underneath his old shirt, utterly entranced.

"C'mon, we make such perfect babies," he whined when you emerged, grabbing your arm and pulling you to stand between his legs. You smiled and played with the hair around his ear and he hummed, perfectly content, with his hands cupping the backs of your thighs.

"She is pretty perfect, isn't she?"

"Just like her mama," he replied, planting a kiss on your stomach, which was still a little swollen from giving birth. You grimaced and slipped out of his grasp, trying to hide your discomfort, but nothing ever got past him.

"What's wrong?"

You shook your head and tucked yourself back under the covers, hiding your body from him. "My stomach..." you began, trailing off before picking up your book to distract yourself. Joel's face filled with worry and he quickly stood.

"Are you in pain? Doc said if there's any pain, you gotta -"

"It's not pain," you told him while pretending to focus on your book.

"Then what?"

Joel tossed his dirty shirt into the hamper before stepping out of his jeans. Your eyes drifted over his body while he put on his pajamas and your discomfort grew when you thought about how your own body now looked.

"It's just... it's not the same as before."

"What's not the same?" he asked, tugging a shirt over his head and padding over to his side of the bed.

"My stomach," you said quietly. "My hips. My thighs. Fucking... everything."

Joel paused, his expression softening as he watched you pretend like it didn't bother you as much as it did, but he saw the look in your eye and knew better.

"Baby," he whispered, leaning over and pinching your chin between his fingers so you would look at him. "You're perfect. Don't you dare for one second think badly 'bout the body that grew our little girl." He pressed a tender kiss against your lips before drawing back, his deep brown eyes flickering quickly between your own.

"I just don't feel like myself," you admitted, leaning into his touch.

"That's alright," he assured you, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You will again one day."

"You promise?" you asked, blinking away the tears that were beginning to build.

He smiled and nodded before kissing the tip of your nose. "'Course, I promise."

His hand slid around your waist and tugged you closer with his palm laid flat against your lower back. "Don't think I ever thanked you properly for givin' me our little girl," he murmured, slipping his tongue past your lips. You circled your arms around his neck and allowed yourself to relax into his hold. "Did so fuckin' good, darlin', y'know that?" he whispered in between kisses. "So fuckin' brave, so strong..." His hand drifted further down to squeeze your ass and you giggled. "Can I show you how thankful I am? Will you let me? Hm?"

"Joel," you mumbled when his mouth grazed over your throat. "We can't, you know that."

He hummed and shifted around so your back was pressed against your headboard. "Oh, I know. But there's one thing I can do."

He shimmied down the mattress until his shoulders were wedged between your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses all down your front, through your shirt. When he reached the apex of your thighs he glanced up at you for permission. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded and his face lit up before hooking his fingers around your underwear and peeling them off. Much to your relief, he didn't ask to remove your shirt, and it wouldn't be until much later you would realize he did it for your benefit; so you would feel comfortable and relaxed.

At first, you were nervous, knowing full well you likely didn't look the same down there either, but when you heard a deep groan rumble through his chest before licking a lazy stripe through your folds, your fears began to melt away.

You sighed and leaned back into the pillows, letting your legs fall open and your eyes slide shut while he lapped slowly at your pussy with the occasional moan. His mouth felt so fucking good and his beard burned the insides of your thighs just right that you could feel yourself floating away.

"God, Joel," you rasped. Your fingers began to twist around his curls and he smiled because he could feel your tension and stress melting away under his tongue.

"Taste so good, baby," he said, voice all thick and gravelly. The sound sent a tremor through your body and your mouth fell open when he flattened his tongue over your clit in fast circles. You accidentally pulled too roughly on his hair and he groaned, eyelids fluttering while he pressed his hips into the mattress, seeking just a sliver of relief.

He had to keep reminding himself not to slip his tongue or fingers inside you, the doctor's warning to wait echoing somewhere in the back of his mind and he would never, ever do anything to potentially cause you harm. All he wanted to do, all he wanted to ever do was make you feel good. But he knew things would be different for a while, and that was okay. Different didn't mean worse. Different just meant... different.

"More," you moaned, hips bucking upwards. His tongue moved faster over your clit until his eyes flashed open and caught you watching him with your chest heaving and your gaze dark with desire. He smirked before puckering his lips and latching onto your clit, suckling and flicking the tip of his tongue until you were a writhing mess under him. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans and it only encouraged him to eat at you faster, grab at your thighs tighter, rut his hips harder until your body finally tensed and stilled while your climax ripped through you.

He pulled away from you with a gasp, kneeling before you with his cock impossibly hard as he watched you catch your breath. Your limbs were all loose and weak and your legs were spread wide, shiny with your arousal. Your eyes flickered down to the bulge in his pants and you scrambled up, joining him in the center of the bed on your knees as you reached for the waistband of his pajama pants.

"No, sweetheart, that's not -"

"I know," you said, cutting him off and pushing his pants down to his mid-thigh. Your lips latched onto his while your fingers curled around his cock, setting a quick pace straight away. He groaned into your mouth and cupped your face, thrusting into your hand, both of you on your knees for each other with your legs trembling.

"Feel what you do to me, little mama?" he growled as he nipped and bit at your chin. "Ain't nothin' ever gonna change that. Y'hear me?"

You nodded and moved your wrist even faster between you. You could feel his stomach tense against your forearm and you smirked to yourself, knowing he was just seconds away.

"So hard for me, Joel," you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. "Can't wait til you can fuck me again. Can't wait to feel you inside me... god, you always feel so good."

He whined and grabbed ahold of your shoulder so he could steady himself. His gasp morphed into a groan against your skin when he came. His spend trickled down your hand, all warm and sticky, then his body sagged with relief.

"Christ," he mumbled weakly before looking down at the mess between your bodies.

"Hold on," you told him, sliding off the bed so you could snatch your underwear from the ground and rinse your hand off in the sink before bringing back a wet washcloth he could clean up with.

"Thank you, darlin'," he said, swiping at his lower abdomen. Once he felt he was clean enough, he tossed the rag on top of his shirt in the hamper and collapsed next to you in bed with a heavy sigh. "Didn't have to do that, y'know."

"I know," you replied, turning on your side and tossing your leg over his waist. You nuzzled into his side and smiled when he pulled you closer. You laid together quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet before Emma woke up demanding milk and a change.

"You take as long as you need, baby," Joel said, breaking the silence. You tilted your head up to look at him questioningly. "Til you feel like yourself again," he explained, then began to lovingly rub his thumb over your shoulder. "Even when the doc gives us the all clear, I want you to know I wanna wait til you're ready, alright? Just know I love you no matter what."

You smiled and pressed a kiss against his chest, unable to respond with the right words to express how happy he made you and how loved you felt.

"So another one, huh?" you asked. He grinned and nodded excitedly.

"Emma told me today she wants a sister."

"She told you?" you giggled.

"Yep. Was talkin' 'bout it before bed. Told her what a great job her mama did makin' her and how much fun it'd be to have a little brother or sister. And, y'know," he said with a dramatic sigh. "She wasn't on board at first, either, but I told her there's plenty of love to go 'round, that she don't need to be so greedy."

"Who woulda thought," you teased, poking him in the chest. "Joel Miller has a certified case of baby fever."

He rolled his eyes and laughed. "It's all your fault. You're the one who started all this."

"I know. Just couldn't help myself, I guess. Now look at us."

Joel turned onto his side and pulled you flush against his chest. "Yeah, now look at us." He leaned down and captured your lips with his, cupping your face gently and taking your breath away. "Happy little family," he added once he pulled back, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek as he gazed down at you adoringly.

You bit your lip and gave him a sly look. "We did have a lot of fun trying, didn't we?"

"Oh, yeah," he quickly agreed. "I do miss you knockin' down my door lookin' for me to fill you up all nice 'n good. Made me feel like a prize winnin' bull, the way you were clamorin' to take a ride."

You gave him a mock look of horror and slapped his chest, making him laugh so deep, you could feel it.

"I was not clamoring!"

"Oh, like hell you weren't!" he said, making you both laugh with how passionate he was about it. His arm wrapped around your waist so he could tug you against his hips. "You couldn't get enough. Damn near hauled me outta the bar by my collar one night, you remember that?"

You could feel your face grow hot and your laughter quickly died down at the mention of that night. Joel looked at you curiously, wondering what he said wrong.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you asked meekly.

He nodded slowly with one eyebrow raised.

"That night at the bar," you began, dropping your eyes to fixate on a shirt stain. "I maybe wasn't..."

Joel had a feeling he knew where you were going with it but he couldn't help himself, he just had to hear it.

"What, baby?"

You groaned and flipped onto your back so you could stare at the ceiling when you said, "I maybe wasn't ovulating that day."

A huge grin broke out across his face and he rolled on top of you, caging you in. "I fuckin' knew it! That new girl was talkin' to me and all the sudden you came outta nowhere sayin' you needed help with your goddamn plumbing."

Admittedly, the excuse you had used was a little too on the nose, but you brushed it off.

"Yeah, okay, fine," you said, reaching around behind him to squeeze his ass. "So maybe I didn't want anyone messing with my bull."

He groaned and followed it up with a terrible impression of a bull's snort before diving into the crook of your neck, sending you into a fit of giggles.

"Makes sense now," he mumbled against your skin. "You were so fuckin' greedy that night, had my head spinnin' like a goddamn top the next day."

"Yeah, that was a good night, wasn't it?" you agreed, tilting your head back so he could access your neck a little easier. He hummed and latched onto a spot behind your ear, causing warmth to pool low in your belly once again. When you lifted your hips to grind against his thigh, he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Easy, darlin'," he warned.

"I know, I just miss you so much," you whimpered, grabbing the sides of his head and pulling him up so you could kiss him. And just when his tongue dove into your mouth and his fingers began to rub lightly at the outside of your underwear, a familiar cry rang out from the bedroom across the hall.

"I got it," he said immediately, but you shook your head.

"She's hungry, I gotta do it," you told him. He relented and rolled back to his side of the bed so you could get up and hurry into Emma's room.

You shushed her as you picked her up carefully from her crib, swaying your body back and forth as you walked to the rocking chair. You lifted your shirt for her and Emma instantly quieted down when she latched onto your breast. Once silence filled the air again, you leaned back into the chair and sighed. Knowing full well you would be stuck in her room for the next half an hour, at least, you plucked a pillow and blanket from the floor with your free hand and maneuvered them around yourself to get more comfortable. Once you were satisfied, you glanced down at your daughter and smiled when you caught her watching you intently with very big, serious brown eyes that were the spitting image of her father's.

"So what do you think, sweet girl?" you murmured softly, rocking back and forth in the chair. "You talking to your daddy about a little sibling behind my back? I thought we were a team, you're supposed to be on my side."

All you got in return was a little gurgle but she appeared to be listening and enjoying the vibration from your voice, so you kept talking.

"I don't know, maybe it's not a bad idea," you told her. "I think I just get a little nervous because it took so long to have you, I get worried it might be next to impossible again."

Her eyes began to droop a little and you smiled.

"Then again, you are pretty perfect. And perfection takes time. Besides," you lowered your voice just in case Joel could hear, "I don't think your daddy would mind if it took a little while again."

When Emma fell asleep with that ridiculous milk-drunk expression you had grown to love so much, you quietly changed her and tucked her back into bed before tiptoeing out of her room and back across the hall.

Your bedside lamp was still on but Joel had fallen asleep sitting up with his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a book dangling from his hand. You smiled and slipped the book away, lying it face down and open on his bedside table before carefully removing his glasses.

"What're you doin'?" he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"You're asleep," you whispered before turning out your light and slipping under the sheets.

"No, I ain't. Was just restin' my eyes til you got back."

"Uh huh," you teased. When he laid down flat, he held out an arm for you and you quickly nuzzled into his side with your own arm wrapping loosely around his waist. You took a deep breath, inhaling his distinct and comforting scent before closing your eyes.

After a few quiet moments where you thought he had fallen back sleep, he surprised you by speaking again.

"So, she convince you to have another?"

You grinned and burrowed your face deeper into his side. "Maybe."

He made a pleased noise and kissed the top of your head.

"She made a good argument," you said.

"That she did."

You let the silence envelop you for another moment before adding, "Maybe in a few months we can give it a try. No pressure this time, just... if it happens, it happens."

"That sounds like a plan to me," Joel said happily.

And although you had just said you didn't want to put too much pressure on it, you fell asleep dreaming up baby names, anyway.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

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entitled-fangirl · 3 days

Text

Meek.

Cregan Stark x Baratheon!reader

Summary: Cregan is determined to be a different man for his betrothed than the men in her family.

Warnings: poor treatment of women, sexism, cursing, talks of sex, making out

A/N: Based on TWO asks!!!! Also--- not proofread😯

Masterlist

....................................................

Everyone knew the absolute torment that house Baratheon put their women through.

They were cruel to them, not caring for anything but their own pleasure. That was well known.

When Cregan was betrothed to Lord Baratheon's second eldest daughter, he wondered how she'd fair under the Northern weather.

Lord Baratheon didn't even bother to see her go, sending her off to the Wolf with just her handmaidens and guards to see her safe to Winterfell.

Cregan stood at the doors, his shoulders back in a display of northern pride. He was beyond grateful to rid the sweet woman from the ungrateful Baratheons.

The moment her horse stepped through the gate, his people were attentive to her, taking her belongings and beginning to carry them into the castle.

She watched them with widened eyes, confused by their kindness. Cregan quickly stepped down the stairs to her, "Welcome, my lady."

Her head snapped to him and looked down at him from her horse. She said nothing in fear of saying the wrong thing.

He reached up and gently pulled the reigns from her hands. The leather slid from her grasp slowly. She dared not to intervene.

Once he had the reigns in his hand, he pulled on them, walking the horse further into the yard and closer to Winterfell.

She merely let him as she held to the saddle.

Cregan felt a small smile grow on his face. She was a curious thing. It was too bad she wouldn't voice her thoughts.

As he looked up at her, he decided then to change that. He would get her to open up one day.

He tied the reigns off and held out his hand to her. "Let me help you." She reminded him of a skittish doe, ready to run at any sign of danger.

Her shaky hand reached out, and she swung her leg over the horse. She stared at him expectantly.

He let go and grabbed her waist, holding her as he slid her down the horse's side and placed her on the ground.

"Thank you, Lord Stark," her soft voice finally spoke.

He swore he'd never heard anything sweeter.

How the Baratheons could bare to mistreat her, he'll never know.

…

He told the North that he was in no way going to rush the marriage. So she stayed in the Winterfell walls unwed so he could understand her more before becoming one.

He felt like he owed her that.

She deserved to be known.

She had become a little more comfortable around him, beginning to slowly speak to him about only the things that were essential to say aloud.

The two walked the grounds together, a routine they had developed over time.

"I wish you'd speak about things that don't matter," he finally mentioned. He peeked over to her to see her reaction.

Her brows furrowed as she stared in front of her, "I don't understand."

"I didn't mean it in that sense I suppose." He reached up with his free to stroke the hair on his chin in thought of what to say. "I want to know the things that you worry I'll find unimportant. Does that make sense?"

She hesitantly shook her head.

He sighed softly at how to correct his words. Finally, he shrugged. "I want to know you."

"You do," she countered quietly.

"I don't," he smiles as he brushed hair behind her ear, "but I'd like to."

She sucked in a sharp breath at his touch to her face. The men in her family were far from this gentle. "I assure you there is nothing of interest to me."

"There is, I'm sure. I'll find it."

She nodded, "Whatever you wish, my lord." She began to walk again.

He pulled her back, "Not so quickly." He reached down and pulled both of her hands into his. "Don't say what you wish me to hear. Say what you are thinking."

"Why would I do that?" She asked innocently.

He cursed under his breath but didn't let her see the way his jaw clenched. "It matters to me. Your thoughts, I mean."

She stared at their intertwined hands, "Even the unpleasant ones?"

"Especially the unpleasant ones."

It was a strange concept for her, but she nodded as her brain began to truly consider what he was asking for.

He smiled in relief, still holding one hand and beginning to walk again. "Let us start with simple matters. Perhaps… your favorite novel?"

Her head snapped to him, "I don't… I…"

His thumb rubbed over her knuckles, "I know you have one. I've seen the way book pages soak you in like water."

The question had been a sensitive one. She shrugged in a fake nonchalant fashion and kept walking, "I don't have one."

He hummed lowly, a small warning. "Don't lie. Just say what it is."

"I… I don't remember the name of it," she finally admitted.

He accepted that answer. "I see. What was it about?"

Her big eyes looked up at him, debating what to say. "It was… a fiction."

He smiled, "I see. There can be enjoyment in fictional novels, can't there?" He waited to say what else she would say. Each new piece of herself she revealed to him, he treasured like a precious stone.

"Well… it is the only one I've read, I'm afraid," she smiled weakly, eager to change the subject.

"The only?" He asked in pure shock. "The only one?"

She nodded, keeping in a certain side of herself. "It was left behind. Father has it."

"Ah," he said finally.

…

That evening, he wrote to Lord Baratheon, urging him to send her favorite book. He was straight to the point, telling the man he could send the novel to earn Stark's forgiveness for avoiding the wedding.

…

A few weeks later, a letter arrived addressed to Lord Stark. He almost ripped it out of the maester's hand in concern when he saw the Baratheon sigil in the wax. It was a thick roll, only making his concern spike.

He pulled it open, revealing a few pages that fell from his hand.

Book pages.

Ripped book pages.

He picked up one with a shaking hand. He began to see red as he looked back up at the maester. "What is the meaning of this?"

The maester held out his hand, "Allow me to read this for you, my lord."

Cregan handed the letter to him as he began to gather the few book pages that were sent to him.

The maester's face turned white. "He dares to disrespect you."

"Do not tell me these are what I believe them to be," he growled lowly.

"I'm afraid they are."

Cregan's hand slammed the papers onto the desk in pure rage and stormed out of the room.

…

Cregan swung his sword with a fury. His sparring partner could hardly keep up, but he knew his Lord just needed to get out his anger.

His partner was grateful when Cregan's betrothed interrupted them.

"Cregan?"

Cregan faltered, freezing in place and turning his head to her. "Yes?" He asked with a surprisingly soft voice.

She wrung her hands nervously. "I… Forgive me. I shouldn't have interrupted."

He stood up tall, handing his sword off to his partner and waving him off. "No. Please. Tell me what you need."

She hummed and let out a deep breath. "I've been thinking."

He nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Aye…"

"I'm ready to marry you."

He sucked in a sharp breath. "What?"

"I- I want to marry you, Cregan."

He saw the absolute nervousness that radiated through her frame to admit that to him.

He stepped to her, "You're sure?"

She nodded. "If you still want me."

He stepped further to her in urgency, "Of course, I do. Never think that I wouldn't."

She stared at him, now unsure of where to go from there.

Cregan smiled. "Shall I set a date for the wedding then?"

Her eyes lit up. "Would you?"

"I would. And I shall. We shall have it two weeks before Winter strikes. I will leave for the Wall not long after. Would that suffice?"

She looked down at her hands.

"What?" He tilted his head down, hoping to get her to look at him. "Did you wish for after winter? That could be quite a while."

She had worked herself up just to admit wanting to marry him. How could he expect her to do more?

"Talk to me, pretty girl."

She'd never been called that before. It made something inside of her stir.

"It's so far," she whispered.

He felt a chill down his spine at her small confession. He gulped as the anger left him completely. "Sooner then?"

"Sooner."

He nodded, biting his lower lip in deep thought. "Aye. Soon then."

A bright smile pulled at her lips. "Thank you, Cregan."

He grinned back. "Of course. Now, go on," he tutted playfully, "Your betrothed must finish his spar."

Red came to her cheeks, "Right. Right, of course. Excuse me, Lord Stark-"

"-Cregan," he quickly corrected.

"Cregan."

He watched her leave. There was a slight skip to her step now that he hadn't noticed about her before.

Perhaps she was finding happiness in Winterfell.

…

The wedding was a large northern celebration. The bannermen and families came from miles around to witness their Warden's wedding.

Everyone was too kind. It was beginning to worry her.

"Quite the feast, I'd say," Cregan smiled at her as the two sat at the high table.

Her hands immediately reached for her chalice of wine.

And she didn't stop for the entire night.

…

"Let us retire," he suggested when she tried to refill her cup again. His hand reached out and gently placed it over hers. "It is getting late. And before you fret, the bedding ceremony will not happen. It is only you and I."

Her eyes softened in surprise, not expecting him to say that. "One more glass for courage?" She slurred slightly.

His brows ticked down for only a second before he composed himself. "Courage isn't needed for this. Are you truly this nervous?"

"I'm perfectly content," she huffed.

The crease between his brows returned. That was uncharacteristic of her to speak in frustration. Had the wine affected her? "Then let us go, hmm?"

She nodded, setting her cup down. "Very well."

He stood, offering his hand out to her. She took it and stood, trying to hide the slight falter in her first step. She moved her hand up to his bicep, letting him lead her from the banquet hall.

Entering their chambers, she sat on the bed. "Will you have me on my back or shall you take me from behind?" She asked bluntly, no hint of embarrassment or hesitation to her.

Cregan hand on the doorknob faltered. He locked the door and turned to her with shock on his face, "What was that?"

"Which way do you fuck, Lord Stark?" She asked in the same tone.

He shook his head with an amused chuckle. He stepped to her, reaching down and pushing her chin up to look at him. "I will not be fucking you tonight." He watched her posture change, a relaxation coming to her. "Why would you ask something so crude? It's unlike you."

"You wanted me to speak my mind, and I have," She stated in frustration.

"You certainly have," he commented. "But I have a feeling that the wine is twisting your words. Tell me why you indulged in so much wine tonight."

She shrugged, "Why do you care?"

He gently pulled her chin back up, "I care about you."

"There it is." Her nose twitched. "I don't know what to do when you say things like that."

He stood straight, "You didn't answer the question."

"Fine!" She stood up and stepped around him, "I drank so much because I have never known a man to be as kind as you and it frightens me."

"Frightens you? How so?" Cregan was beyond confused. He turned to watch her.

She stepped to the fireplace and buried her hands in her hair in frustration. "I've never wanted to speak my mind to anyone until I met you, and now I fear I'll say something I shouldn't and ruin it all. Do you know what that feels like? To know that one wrong word could send you back to…" Her voice faded off.

"I don't. And neither do you, because regardless of your words, I'm not going to send you back there. You're a Stark. The Baratheons are only a name now- if you want them to be, that is. If you want to truly be a Stark in name and heart." He offered. His calculating eyes watched her closely now, frowning at the tugging of her hair.

"Even after I've indulged myself in wine and ruined our wedding to the point that you refuse to consummate the marriage with me?" She turned to him and only then did he see the glimmer of the tears that sat in her eyes.

"You did not ruin anything. But I will not sleep with you as long as you are not fully aware of your actions."

"I am aware," she huffed.

"We shall see in the morning." The slightest amused smile come over him. "I promised to take you to bed one way or the other. Perhaps tonight, it is only to sleep and nothing more." He walked to her. "Turn around. Let me undo your laces, stubborn woman."

She did as he asked, pulling her hair over her shoulder. "Will I regret this tomorrow?"

"The marriage or this particular conversation?" He asked. "If it has to be one, I hope it is the latter. I personally enjoy the former."

She hummed, pulling her outer dress down once Cregan had untied it enough. Layer by layer, she threw each piece to the cloth chair not far from the fire.

Cregan's careful hands untied each string they came across.

Silence filled the room, and she broke it with a small sniffle. Her voice was much softer now, "Do you believe my father didn't want to be here? Is that something you believe?"

Of course, he believed it, but he wouldn't say it. "I'm not sure. Do you, sweet girl?"

She hummed, "I do."

That surprised him. "Ah. Do continue speaking your mind, please. Do not let me stop you."

"He has a particular hatred for women. I'm not sure where it started. When he had a firstborn daughter rather than son, my mother was fearful for the girl. I was second. He married us off without a second thought. Dare I admit to you that he signed me away to you without truly reading the document?"

Cregan placed his hands on her clothed hips and spun her to face him.

No wonder she came here so fearful. She was mistreated from the beginning. He stared into her eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle. He reached up and brushed his fingers on her cheek. "How could a man ever hate you?" He asked with a barely heard voice.

Her heart jolted, "I have never felt love before. Is it supposed to feel this warm?"

Cregan let out a joyful laugh as he ran his hands through her hair. "I want to say yes, but you're near the fire. And the wine is coloring your cheeks. We shall revisit this when you are well. Let us get you to bed."

"Bed? Right." She pulled herself from him and moved to the bed. She tucked herself under the covers.

Cregan's smile stayed. "Are you warm enough for the night?"

"Yes, but… are you not staying?"

He shook his head. "I don't want you to wake in a fright if tonight's details blur in your mind. Waking beside me may be startling for you."

"No! I-" she looked around the room in thought. "I want you to stay. I want that."

His head tilted. "Alright. If you want this. But know that nothing will happen to you while I stay here tonight."

"I can live with that," she admitted as she laid on the bed completely.

Darkness filled the room with Cregan blew out the candles, and the bed dipped down as he laid on it.

…

In the morning, she awoke with a groan. The sun was burning her eyes.

"Ah, you're awake," Cregan's voice commented from across the room.

She sat up and rubbed at her eyes until they were raw, determined to get the feeling to fade. When she did, a headache began to erupt.

"Easy," he chided as he walked to her. He reached to the nightstand and held a cup out to her. "The maester made a tea to help with the pain."

She sipped it gratefully. "I had the strangest dream that I'm fearing is true," she said with a groggy voice.

He watched her with a glimmer in his eyes. His hand reached to her and smoothed her hair down.

She peered up at him. She wondered how someone could be so thoughtful.

"Tell me something," he said as sat down at her side. "If that's alright."

"Anything," she whispered. Her eyes flickered to his lips.

"Is the warmth still there?"

He watched her face began to near his. She placed her hand on his leg to help her lean over to him. "I believe I love you," she admitted gently.

He smiled and leaned the rest of the way to her. His lips kissed her softly and slowly.

Before she could truly react, he pulled away again. The grin on his lips returned, as were his hands in her hair, "I was going to gift this to you yesterday, but I believe today is a better day for it."

"Oh," her shy demeanor returned and she set the cup down.

"Don't fret. You'll adore it. Or… I hope you do."

She watched him get up from the bed, beginning to dig though a drawer in his closet.

He returned with a book in his hand. "It took some time, but I believe it was worth it."

She reached out and took it, examining the cover. She only stared at it for a moment before her eyes lit up. "Is this-?"

"Your favorite novel? It is." His head tilted back and forth, "Or, at least, I believe it is."

"This isn't the same copy as the one with my Father," she remarked.

"No, it's not. I tried to recover it but was unsuccessful. I hope this copy with be worthy of your happiness."

"Oh, Cregan," she mused. "It's… it is too much. I don't understand."

"It is a wedding gift. Do not think twice about it. You haven't the feignest idea of how far I would go to please you," he admitted.

"I've never had someone do something so selfless on my behalf." She hugged it to her chest, "Tell me how you managed it."

He smiled, content with the way she cherished the book. "I admit that I wrote a letter to your father, asking for the book. I was sent ripped pages in return-"

He faltered at the way her face fell.

"-But," he continued, "I sent the pages off to three well-read men and promised them anything to the man who found the novel it belonged to. It took a while, and I feared I would not have it in time, but alas, one of them found it. And here it is."

"What did he wish for?"

He frowned slightly, "Don't fret over that. Just know that it is all handled accordingly."

She pulled it from her chest to look at it again to guarantee that it was indeed real. "You are the most spectacular man I've met." She looked up at him. "I don't know what I have done to deserve you, but I shall spend my entire life thanking the gods for you."

"It is only a novel, my girl."

"It is much more than a novel."

"Then you'd hate to see what else I'd get you to only see a smile come to your lips."

She leaned over to him again as before, "May I kiss you?"

"Of course," he smiled.

She grinned and pushed herself into his lap completely, pulling her body as close to his as she could, careful to not hit him with the book still in her hand.

She finally connected their lips with a heavier intent than they had shared before.

He groaned against her and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm certain," she panted against his lips, "I love you."

"My girl, I've loved you since the moment you arrived in Winterfell."

She pulled away from him completely. "W… What?"

"Since that day," he said as he brushed his thumb over her cheek. "I've been quite sure that I love you."

"You feel warmth when you are with me?"

"When I see you, I want to keep you beside me. I want to hold and kiss you until you're dizzy. I want to watch you sit and read until you become one with the sofa," he chuckled, "I want to see your joy as much as I can. I want you."

"You're unlike any man I know."

"That's alright. Isn't it?"

She chuckled as full relief flowed from her, as if only now accepting that she was safe here. "What a silly question, my lord."

He tilted his head playfully. "My lord?"

"It was my attempt at a jest," she admitted sheepishly. "Was it a poor one?"

"No," he countered. "I was just not expecting it from my meek wife. Perhaps she is not as meek as I once thought."

She laughed again, "Perhaps. We'll see, won't we?"

He kissed her cheek, "I cannot wait." He spoke in her ear, "But for now, be gone. You have a novel to read, don't you?"

Her eyes lit up and she clambered out of his lap. "I do! Oh, I do!"

Cregan watched the woman run to the cloth chair by the fireplace and sit, pulling her book open in a rush to absorb its words.

He chuckled and stood as he began to dress, "I'll fetch you for dinner. There's breakfast on the table from earlier. I expect you'll be content until then," he teased.

She looked up and nodded, "I will."

"Read closely. I expect to hear a summary at dinner of whatever chapters you consume."

She grinned from ear to ear as he left.

………………………………………………….

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #cregan stark x you #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x y/n #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd cregan #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction

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megalony · 7 months

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Eddie Diaz (911) Masterlist

So it turns out there's a limit to how many links you can add it into a single post. So my old 911 masterlist is now the Evan Buckley masterlist, and this is a separate one for Eddie.

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Eddie Diaz:

Family

You Look Happy

I Kept Calling

Melting Away

Father’s Day

Is It Bad?

No Interruptions

That’s My Wife

Let Him Burn

You Invited Everyone?

He Choked

C-section

Disgrace

Don't You Dare

Annual Party

Overload

Seaside Charades

He's Safe

No School

So Much Better

They're Joined

Rumbled

Taught a Lesson

Evening Trips

They Needed Help

I'm Right Here

I Promise

Mended Hearts

Christmas Revelations

No Rhythm

Stay With Me

Late Night Fights

Get My Husband

She's My Daughter

Thank Me Later

Did I Fall?

You've Been Hurt

Don't Tease

Bedroom Talk- Masterlist

Unexpected Surprise

Take It Easy

Medic Mode

Ballet Dancer

My Little Man

He's Not One Of Us

Touch-Starved

My Warning

A Special Guest

I'll Deal With Him

Prepare For A Storm

All These Kids

Severe Reaction

Be Our Midwife

On Sick Leave

You'll See Him Soon

Toughen Up

The Threat Of You

We'll Sort This

Now You're In Trouble

Small Mercies

You're Staying Right Here

Vital Signs

Do You Trust Me

I Need Help

All Over again

A Family Gathering Part 2 Prequel

Attacked Part 2

Stress Levels Part 2

Make It Stop Part 2

Saving Grace Part 2

I Need To Help You Part 2

The Proper Experience Part 2

Doctor! Eddie AU:

I'm Her Doctor

Cause Of Malpractice

#eddie diaz x reader #imagine #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie x buck #911 imagine #pregnant! reader #pregnancy #eddie diaz #bobby nash #911 fox

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raiby-rainbow-pearl · 8 months

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HAZBIN HOTEL SPOILER

Husk there be like:

DON'T YOU EVEN FUCKIN DARE TO TOUCH ME, MY HUSBAND, OR MY DAUGHTER

(I'm not sorry)

#Hazbin Hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #Husk #Angel #Angel Dust #Niffty #Huskerdust

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necronomicorn · 2 months

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Scorned Sympathy ( Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Fandom: House of the Dragon, Aegon II Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower's sister has always hated the King, and transversely, he has hated her back. But, that all changes after he returns from Rook's Rest.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none? I think, I don't know, its HOTD but mostly hurt/comfort and fluff

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They say that burns are a sacred death. The death of dragon riders, honoring them among the living, and the dead. In his history lessons, Aegon had heard it was peaceful. Yes, there was supposed to be a screaming, agonizing pain, but as flesh burned away, it took nerve endings with it, leaving them to feel nothing, numb.

But Aegon hadn't been so lucky, he had only wished he had died back on the battlefield, died on impact of the flames. Then he wouldn't have had to suffer through spiraling to the ground, snapping his bones, or feel his armor being peeled away after it had merged with his flesh. He wouldn't have had to sleep nearly every hour of the day, waking up only to experience excruciating pain, relearning to walk when every step made him cry out in agony.

The once comforting walls of his bedroom had turned into a torture chamber as he was forced to his feet by the Maesters, only to hobble around the confinements of those walls, good hand gripping the cane with enough force to drive splinters in his hands and cause his knuckles to turn white.

He cried out as the Maester pushed him into another step, holding him upright as best he could. Larys Strong stood in the patch of sunlight in the room, giving him an angelic halo, ironic as it was his devilish idea to make Aegon start walking so soon, only weeks after he had returned to the Red Keep.

"Impressive," the club-footed man says, heads turning in his direction, "But I'm afraid you must work harder."

Aegon screams as Larys reaches around his other arm, cries of pain sounding like twisted laughter as together, they move him another step. Burned tissue stretched as they did, a blinding pain seeping through his barely-healed broken leg.

The men pause in their persistence as the large bedroom doors swing open, silver-draped guards pushing them back to reveal the figure of Y/N, the youngest Hightower daughter. Her frame was draped in a long black gown, tied around her center with a golden chain that stopped several inches above the hem of her skirts. Long copper hair draped down her back, just as her eldest sister, yet that was where the similarities stopped.

While Alicent was looked up to, a regal Queen of the realm, her sister had all but denounced her high-blood status, working in the streets as a herbalist, giving medicine to the poor, healing wounds, and delivering children. It wasn't until Viserys had died that Alicent welcomed her into the castle, for her protection, she had explained, though no man nor woman would dare to touch the 'witch'.

"Return the King to his bed, my Lords," the woman says, striding into the room, hands folded neatly in front of her gown.

"The King must regain his strength, my Lady, he must practice," Lord Larys calls over his shoulder, dismissing her command.

Y/N smiles curtly at his defiance, "How would you like to disfigure your other foot, Lord Layrs?"

The man stops, struggling out from underneath the King's arm, "The King-"

"The King is too busy moaning in agony to give a shit about what you think," the woman interrupts, a boldness frowned upon in the castle, "Return him to bed, and leave us. I'm sure there are whispers to attend to."

Reluctantly, the Maester carries Aegon to his bed, allowing him to fall back onto the sanction of his covers. The Maester moves to lift the King's legs, despite his protests, earning a painful cry as they hit his sheets.

Vhisrya watches as the King rolls to his untainted side, arms curled up against his chest in defeat, body trembling as whimpers escape his scarred lips. The Maester exits quickly, Lord Larys slowly following, glaring at her with every step. It is only when she hears the large doors latch shut behind the men that she makes her way over to the King's bedside. He resembled a small child more than a man, curled around himself in loosely fitted clothes, eyes squeezed shut as his body shook.

He takes a ragged breath as he senses her presence beside him, eyes opening just the slightest to glare at the black-clothed woman, "Come to finish me off, witch?"

The witch makes no remark against him, only motioning for the boy to sit upright in the bed. He does so, grunting in pain, bracing himself on his good arm as he slides up to prop his back against the headboard.

Y/N makes note of his trembling hands, the way he still insisted on putting up a bitter front despite not being able to move even a foot without collapsing in pain. It reminded her of his father.

Regardless, she reaches for the buttons of his nightgown, pulling them apart hastily till his chest was exposed. Blistering red wounds stretched across the expanse of his left side, charred and black in some places, while in others, the skin had been cut away in jagged marks from separating melted armor from the King's flesh.

"What-what are you doing?" Aegon trembles, fear lacing his voice.

The woman's eyes move from his chest, to his face. He watched as they drifted from his swollen eyelid, to the top of his head, where silvery-blonde hair parted from vibrant burns, to where his ear once was, reduced now to a small lump that opened into his eardrum. He knew it was hideous, he wouldn't lie to himself, trying to persuade his own mind that he was still the beautiful boy the kingdom worshiped. He knew that if he healed, he couldn't even be seen in a pleasure house, not even the whores wanting to be fucked by a monster such as himself.

"Your grace?"

A soft voice draws him out of his own mind, one that was nearly unrecognizable coming from the woman beside him, "I have an ointment, one that should assist in healing your burns. But, I require you to remove your sleeves."

"Can't", Aegon grunts, talking becoming an exhaustion.

"I can assist you," the woman cooes, dragging the soiled fabric down his good arm first.

Aegon whimpers as her hand moves to his burned side, gently peeling the fabric from his neck, then down his shoulder, drawing near his bicep. He could feel the fabric stick to his skin, the pus that leaked from his wounds drying, attaching itself to the coarse fabric.

"I'm going to lift your arm," the woman says, earning a series of pleading "no"'s as she does.

The prince groans in pain, feeling the blistering skin stretch, muscle burning as she peeled the fabric away from his body, letting it pool around his waist.

Y/N could see the King's murderous gaze as she finished, pulling his arm back immediately, heavy breaths filling his chest, followed by shaking exhales.

She makes haste, placing a mortar on the nearby table, filling it with oils and herbs, grinding it till the scent fills the room, overwhelmed by lavender. The King watches as she pulls a small vial from the pocket of her dress, opening it to reveal a nearly clear, thick liquid.

"What is that?" the King asks, the filth of his mind overpowering common sense.

Y/N looks back to the burned man, unaware he was watching her, "It's dragon saliva. Something in it prevents the dragons from being burned when they breathe fire, and proves itself to assist the healing process quicker than the Maester's brew alone. It only took me so long to bring it to you as your brother won't let me near his dragon, Sunfyre has not returned from Rook's Rest, and Helaena won't speak to me as she thinks I had something to do with your son's beheading."

Her last words come out as an aggravated shout, making the boy flinch. With a deep breath, she regains herself, carrying the mortar to his bedside, black dress fanning out on the sheets beside him, "I apologize, your Grace. You all think of me as some plague here to ruin the sanction of your home, yet Alicent refuses to let me leave the castle walls."

It was strange, hearing his mother's name be used so plainly, everyone else referred to her as the Queen, even Aemond and him referred to her as "your Grace".

Aegon clears this throat as the woman begins to spread the paste across his chest. It burned at first, but not to the level of the Maester's concoction. Perhaps dragon saliva was the key.

"She believes you would flee to Rhaenyra, aid her conquest for the crown," he grunts, intently gazing at the greenish mixture spread across his skin.

"And she is right," Y/N states plainly, "Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and you have usurped her crown."

"I could have your head for that," Aegon jokes, a faint smile, one of the first since he had returned, spreading across his lips.

The woman smiles back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues to coat his torso, " I could have already had yours."

"Why haven't you, then?"

The hand that holds the brush hesitates, as Y/N searches for an answer. In all honesty, she has had many opportunities to kill the man, yet the thought never truly crossed her mind. She takes a deep breath before continuing her strokes, "You may be a monster- the sins you have committed are so terrible that you'd burst into flames if you ever set foot in the Sept. But, I know you did not choose to be King, just as I did not choose to waste away in this castle. I do not wish to punish you for something you cannot control, you have suffered enough."

Aegon says nothing, only faint whimpers coming from his lips. His breathing stilled as the woman traced a line of ointment across his face, delicately placing it across the edge where untouched skin met charred flesh. His body jolts as she accidentally brushes over an open wound on his cheekbone, where his helmet had melted, merging itself with his flesh. Despite how careful the Maester had been when removing it, deep gashes still marred his face.

The King yelps in pain, eyes shut as the oils burn their way through his open wound, sending a new wave of intense pain across his face. His body curls against itself, a position he found himself in more and more often these days. But rather than digging the nails of his good hand into the palm of his fist, he found a softer, more delicate hand in his , softly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, "I'm sorry."

Aegon whimpers, the comfort of her touch calming the scarred boy. It was rare that he obtained touches like these, not even from his mother, despite how much she claimed she loved him. No, she was more focused on being Queen than being a mother. His wife was the same way, more fascinated with her bugs than her husband, only laying with him when they were forced to produce an heir, before returning to her own quarters in solitude. He would watch Helaena with their own children, interacting with them, holding them, reading to them, only wishing that his mother had done the same.

So Aegon welcomes the warmth of the witch, clutching her hand with the intention to never let go until his scars had healed and he could hold his head with as much dignity as a true king. "Tell me a story," Aegon whispers, distracting himself from the pain that stretched across his body with every breath.

Y/N smirks, placing the mortar between her legs so she could continue placing the ointment with his hand still clutching her own.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Princess, who was locked away in a tower guarded by a fierce dragon. Her parents, the King and Queen, missed her dearly, and declared that any knight who were to rescue her from the dragon's keep, would marry the lovely Princess.

Not far from the kingdom lived a beast, alone. He was happy that way, till a power-hungry Lord wished to take the beast's land for himself. Upset, the beast made a deal with the Lord, in exchange for his land, the beast would rescue the Princess from her dragon's keep, so the Lord may marry her. True to his word, the beast saved the girl, yet as they traveled back to the Lord's castle, the beast found himself falling in love with the Princess."

Beside her, Aegon's breath slows, muscles relaxing against her grip, yet his violet eyes stay fixated on the woman. He listens to her intently, soft voice ringing through the silent room, as airy as wind blowing his curtains in the night.

"One night," Y/N continues, brushing the ointment across his scarred forearm, "The beast sought to confront the Princess, yet when he came to her cabin, he heard vile words coming from her mouth, ones solely describing such a monster as the beast. Furious, he gave her to the Lord, returning to his swamp alone. Yet, he couldn't forget the Princess, as even if she despised him, he loved her. So, he returned to the Lord's castle the night of the wedding.

As the sun fell that night, the beast watched as the beloved Princess transformed before his eyes, to a beast herself. Cursed by a witch many years before, the Princess turned ugly, monstrous, every night, the curse only to be broken by true love's kiss.

Together, the beast and the Princess slayed the Lord, and wed that night. Yet, when she kissed the beast, her appearance remained disfigured. The Princess then realized, that love's truest form was not based in beauty, but in happiness. She returned to the swamp with her beloved beast, and the two lived happily ever after."

Vhisrya finished her story with a smile, placing the brush back in the mortar. She looks down at the King, whose eyes were shut. For a moment, she thinks he has fallen asleep, but Aegon grunts, indicating he is still conscious, "Was there a moral to that story?"

He had only thought of the question after listening to one of Jaehaerys's lessons, one of the few times he was sober while the sun was still high in the sky. It made him feel like a child himself, curled along his tutor's side as she read him tales of past Kings.

The woman beside him rolls her eyes, placing her hand atop his own, "The moral is that even though someone may appear hideous, it does not make them a beast."

A deep flush overtakes Aegon's body, understanding her words. Still, he purses his swollen lips, "What if one's insides are as hideous- as hideous as their outsides?"

"Then that is truly a monster," Y/N replies, watching as the boy's face turns to a scowl.

A few moments of silence pass before the woman lets out a heavy sigh, "The beast was known for killing villagers set foot near his swamp, yet after he rescued his bride, he never killed again. He changed, Aegon, and you can too."

A chill is sent up Aegon's spine when she says his name. Like the rest of his court, she only addressed him "your Grace", and even when she did refer to him indirectly as "King Aegon", spite laced her words, bitter as poison. In every sober moment he had believed that she had hated him, yet her presence and aid in his time of need dismissed the notion from his mind entirely.

Not even his mother had looked at him for this long, or made conversation so kind. Aegon had seen her, several times, hovering behind the Maester's as they tended to his wounds, yet she never dared to approach him, so close to his gnarled flesh. He couldn't blame her, he knew it was hideous, and the Queen's stomach was not meant to see such obscenities.

In all honestly, neither should Y/N, but her previous line of work made her accustomed to such sights. The King swallows thickly, pain stretching up the left side of his neck, causing him to let out a small whimper.

He feels the woman's hand stroke through his matted hair, hair that hasn't been brushed, or even washed in days. It shamed him, that he was incapable of keeping up his own appearance, needing the hands of servants to take the place of his own in combing his hair, washing him, dressing him, feeding him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers, discarding the last bit of dignity he held.

Y/N looked to the boy below her. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she had never seen before, a glisten of sadness, despair, hopelessness. "Of course."

Aegon grunts as the weight shifts on the bed as she lays beside him, on his good side, not wanting to damage him in his slumber. The tormented King watches as she discards her jewelry on the furthest bedside table before fluffing a pillow to join him in the bed. Her long hair splays across the pillow as she grasps his hand, leaving several inches between the two of them.

"Come closer," Aegon pleads, pulling gently on her hand, as much as his muscles would allow without excruciating pain.

"I don't want to harm you," Y/N says quickly, concerned etched in her features.

"You won't" Aegon replies, sinking into the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

His body aches from his burns, the ointment only soothing his pain so much. It was nights like this, when Aegon couldn't sleep, when his body caused him so much trouble that he trembled and moaned until the morning sun rose. But as he curled against the woman, his pain began to subdue. He knew it wasn't literal, that her presence made his hurt go away, but he wished to believe it that simple, that she was his cure.

Y/N listened to his wheezing breaths slow as she held him, hand tight in her own. She felt the King's nose bury itself against the nape of her neck, a small grunt escaping his lips. She could feel his chest rise and fall against her own as the King falls into a dreamless slumber.

Darkness fills the room as the final candle burns low, the witch finally closing her eyes for her own rest, holding the broken, tortured boy in her arms, keeping him safe through the night.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #Aegon ii Targaryen x reader #alicent hightower #team green #fanfic #fanfictions #the greens

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deebris · 2 months

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The Misteryous Visitor 5

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: The argument between Talia and Bruce is catastrophic from beginning to end, and while the whole truth is revealed, neither of them wants to let go of you. Strange was always a greater danger than he let on and was closer than he ever thought.

Warnings: Family discussion; meaningless kiss; aggression; blood; kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4.5k

Note: Talia has a slightly different relationship with Bruce in my story compared to the canon, being more tense than the impression I got when I watched scenes between the two of them.

I forget to mention that English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

"Is it true?" Bruce asked quickly, barely giving Talia time to dare say anything before him. The woman rolled her eyes, still with her back to him, and prepared to maintain her confident pose.

She turned to face him and took a few moments to admire the vision, blatantly diverting her eyes to his lips and seeing how the messy shirt had given him a more fierce and attractive aura. Their relationship was complicated, that's a fact, but she could never stop finding the man in front of her charmingly handsome.

"You'll need to be more specific than that," Talia's voice dripped with a sweet and wicked tone as she walked toward him. Bruce violently stood up from the chair when he saw her hand reach towards him and imposed his height over hers to intimidate.

"Don't play the cynic." There was a suppressed fury in his tone, and she was sure he was using the last bit of self-control that still possessed.

"For heaven's sake, Bruce." Talia mocked, picking up the coat she had intended to grab from the beginning from the chair, having recognized it as yours. She grimaced as felt the damp fabric and dropped it in a corner of the room on the floor. The look she was receiving could burn her skin, and when she turned her face back to his, she realized how disturbed he was. "You look horrible. Strange really got into your head, didn't he?"

Talia saw him narrow his eyes with impatient indignation as he snorted. She found seeing him like this very peculiar and thought it would be fun to try and provoke.

The woman brought her face close to his, making her warm breath touch his chin provocatively while boldly wrapping her arms around the broad neck. She tested the waters, seeing how he remained still, and brushed her red lips along his jawline, then moved up until their mouths shared the same breath.

She was going to try to persuade, convince him that he was overthinking, and smiled inwardly when she saw Bruce become disconcerted for a second, completely unresponsive when she sealed their lips together. She managed to seduce him in that second to the point where, unconsciously, he moved his tongue with hers, but tasting her saliva brought him back to rationality.

He left her in complete shock when abruptly pushed her away and grabbed her face in an aggressive manner, squeezing the cheeks and making her squirm until eyes glazed over into his. “You repulse me.” Bruce spat and was glad to see her bold expression disappear. “Tell me once: she is mine?"

Talia tried to take his hand away with hers, but he seemed implacable, and didn't even move a finger out of place. He might be stronger, but she wasn't weak, and that was what made her let out an astonished sob.

"She is my daughter?!" He shouted, shaking her, no longer able to take the lack of response.

"Yes it is true." The confession made him let go of her finally, and she almost stumbled back with how sudden it was.

She massaged her face, seeking relief, and it didn't take long for her eyebrows to furrow in shock. Bruce felt no pity or regret, she deserved much more than he would ever have the courage to do.

"How?" By the way he looked, she knew there was no more room for lies or evasion. She had never seen him like this; Bruce had always been the most balanced man she had ever known in her entire life.

"She and Damian are twins," Talia responded immediately.

"Twins?" Bruce's voice sounded incredulous. He felt that even all the time in the universe wouldn't be enough to process that. It seemed simply unreal. "Why did you hide this? Why did you tell me about Damian and not about her?"

"Because you would have taken her from me!" She shouted, running her fingers over her face to check if her makeup had smeared. "I handed Damian over to you willingly, but if you had found out about him before, you would have brought him here just the same. And with her, it would be no different. You should be grateful to have had the boy."

"How dare you say such a thing?" Bruce threw the chair to the floor in a fit of rage, making a loud noise that echoed even outside the hallway. "And 'handed Damian over willingly'? You only did that because you felt pressured after your father died." He threw it in her face and suddenly remembered something: "You made that boy lie for you." He accused her.

Talia was silent for a brief moment, but her face showed nothing but contempt. "I did, yes." She admitted.

"What's the point of that? Was it just out of whim?" Bruce seemed fragile before her for the first time in so many years. For a moment, she glimpsed an old argument, from when they were still dating and didn't hide feelings from each other as they do today. "Do you hold that much resentment? You know very well why I dismissed the League of Assassins."

"Of course, Bruce. Your morals are too valuable, aren't they?" Talia replied with her chin up, not letting him affect her. "You think you're a good guy, a pure superhero like Superman. But I know you and I know how rotten you are inside. You are not as different from us as you think." She spewed the words in his face like venom.

"You wanted her to come here, didn't you? You and he planned all this?" Comprehension seemed to have hit Bruce, but that only left the woman confused.

"If it were up to me, you would never have discovered her existence. Why would I send her here?" The confession left him silent, not because he wasn't angry anymore, but because he was tired of hearing her voice; he simply couldn't believe anything Talia said. "She is my daughter. And I don't care what you're going to do now, but don't think you're going to drag her with you like you did with all those boys.”

"You think you can offer something better? You, the same person who left her in the hands of that sicko, consider yourself a better option?" Bruce insinuated this with a firmness that made it clear he had no doubt Talia was cooperating with Strange, making her eyes turn red. She could hear many insults from him, but insinuating that she had put you at risk was something entirely different. "You can be sure you won't lay another finger on her."

She knew Bruce was serious, and that he could actually prevent any future contact betwedn you and her. She wanted to kill him right now out of sheer hatred, but she was smart and knew that acting impulsively wouldn't solve anything. So, reluctantly, she tried to change the tone of the discussion to a neutral one. There was no way she could leave without giving him explanations, and if she tried, he would stop her.

"Maybe Strange had been threatening me for some time, possibly before deciding to appear publicly again and attack you." There was a slight irony of indignation in her words. Her gaze was firm and her green eyes shining with the intensity of someone defending their own honor. "Let it be clear: I didn't help anyone; I was as much a victim of this as you were."

"Victim?" Bruce retorted with disdain.

"This threat wasn't for you, Bruce, it was for me. Today you didn't lose anything, quite the opposite." She ignored the acidic tone and continued. "Maybe this contributed to some kind of psychological game Strange is playing against you, but it must be just a bonus."

"Why is he threatening you?" The question contained no compassion or empathy, but it didn't matter to her to receive that kind of consideration from him.

"What did he do to you?" Talia ignored the question, and as a form of childish revenge, he did the same. She sighed and tried a different approach: "If you tell me, I'll tell you too." She needed to know to try to understand the depth of Strange's current intentions or at least get some clue about the plan he was plotting because although she wouldn't say it to Bruce, she was also trying to catch him.

"A photo of my parents," he confessed, trying to sound indifferent before continuing, "Photos of the boys, of Alfred..." Bruce left the sentence hanging in the air and didn't proceed. He would never say more than he deemed necessary to her.

"Damian too?" She asked, worried about her son, and saw Bruce nod affirmatively. Bruce calmly unwrinkled a card while handing it to her.

"He asked her to deliver this to me today." His tone was serious, revealing a determination to deal with the situation pragmatically and directly.

Talia repeated those printed words several times, and every hair on her body stood on end all at once. "Did she…?"

"She didn't read it." He said curtly. "But what I don't understand is how all this seems so convenient and you claim to have nothing to do with it. He had this card perfectly prepared."

"Knowing him well, he must have been waiting for an opportunity for many days, or he induced this to happen somehow." She reflected, scratching the fine texture with her nails right where the text was printed to the point of making it illegible. "The letter that Damian said she picked up took longer to arrive than the others; it must have ended up with him at some point."

"How could he be so close, and you didn't notice?" His voice became aggressive again, the same beastly rage returning.

"I did notice! I just didn't imagine Strange interested in her; I thought it was about Damian. So, I didn't worry because he wasn't with me; he was with you." She raised her voice, trying to match his volume. "Strange has been sending me coded messages. Threats that had nothing to do with my daughter. I thought he didn't know she was yours and therefore wouldn't care about her." She finished, and Bruce clenched his jaw, observing how she increasingly emphasized the expression "my daughter," excluding him.

"Threats related to Damian?" He asked. His muscles were tense and sore, but he endured the discomfort if it meant clarifying everything once and for all. "And, of course, you never considered telling me."

"This started long before I left him with you, Bruce. They were still children." Talia said, growing increasingly frustrated with the conversation.

"What could Damian have done to him as a child?"

"Damian ended up leaving Strange with one less eye. He was already pursuing him because of you, but after losing an eye, all he wanted was revenge." She walked to the bed, leaning on the arms while crossing her legs. A very characteristic gesture of her behavior, which was highlighted when she wore her extravagant dresses, but the cold pants she wore made the movements relaxed. "He was a child; he didn't do it on purpose. He was just protecting his sister."

"How could Strange have known about Damian for so long and not about her? What you're saying doesn't make any sense, Talia." Bruce was frantic, and after a brief moment of melancholy, she sighed:

"I blame my father for this." Her voice almost wavered in front of him, but being the proud person she was, she quickly composed herself.

“What did Ra’s do?” He threw the question into the air, laden with apprehension.

The room plunged into a disturbing silence. Talia remained motionless, while the sound of Bruce's heavy breathing was the only thing breaking the void in the atmosphere. For a brief moment, her eyes met his and captured the storm of emotions brewing there: betrayal, despair, expectation.

She did not fear him, but rather how he might react to this. You were there, nearby, in the hallway, and the last thing she wanted was for the primal figure Bruce was becoming to explode and expel her, taking you to him. Moreover, she needed to remind herself that she was at a disadvantage there. It wasn't just Bruce she would face if things turned worse or physical, but everyone else in the house.

“What did he do, Talia?” Bruce growled, repeating the question with intensity.

She stared at the floor, fully aware that her next words would turn against her later, but at this point, he needed to know. Strange was out there, and he was still as much of a psychopath obsessed with Batman as before, meaning he wouldn’t rest until he managed to take Bruce’s place as a vigilante. So, with a low but icy voice, she moved her mouth to tell him the truth:

“Years ago, Strange sought out the League of Assassins. That lunatic was always smart and somehow discovered the rift between you and my father.” The mention of such an old event took Bruce by surprise. He slightly recoiled and his eyebrows raised, but he restrained himself from interrupting her. “He wanted the League to help him defeat you and vice versa. My father was suspicious, but he was so resentful that he agreed. Your betrayal was still fresh to us.”

“And of course it went wrong, didn’t it?” He asked with implicit sarcasm.

“Strange was so cunning that he managed to manipulate him to his advantage. He provided us with precise and important information about you, but after a while, he wanted to advise my father on how to act. That’s when I started to hate him, realizing how he was controlling.” She shook her head in denial, recalling the memory with bitterness, and continued:

“My father trusted him so much that he allowed Strange to infiltrate us more and more, until one day, by chance, he found damian in Nanda Parbat. Strange was nosy and curious; he tried to extract the information from me, but discovered on his own that you were his father.” Talia blew a strand of hair that fell on her face and decided to add the next part with acidity: “Strange was so fascinated by this that he made an absurd request. We denied it, and then he rebelled against us. Of course, that incompetent couldn’t accomplish anything, and then disappeared, as he always does when things go wrong.”

“Ra’s and Strange working together?” Bruce asked himself. He could never have imagined that two such distinct people could have had a relationship like that in the past. “And what did he ask for?”

“He was obsessed with surpassing you, but it wasn’t just that, he wanted to be you and have everything that was yours. He asked to raise Damian as if he were his own son, can you believe it? Luckily, Y/n never set foot in Nanda Parbat, so he didn’t discover her in that time.” She paused for a moment, reliving the events. “He wanted to prove that he could raise him and make a better Robin. Strange has known your identities much longer than you think; he knew the real Robin was your adopted son.”

Bruce’s face contorted in an expression of disbelief. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth opened as if about to say something, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. He blinked a few times, needing to assimilate what he had heard. “If he never saw her before, how did all this happen?”

“A few years later, when my father hadn’t been dead for long, I returned to live in Gotham City with Y/n, and Strange found out Damian was here too and broke into the apartment where we were. He intended to kidnap Damian, but he used to share a room with his sister, and by mistake, Strange went to her bed.” She spoke with a heavy voice, the last sentence sending chills down her spine, but she persisted:

“I woke up to her frightened scream and a loud noise. I ran and when I saw it was him, I had no mercy. He is intelligent, but sometimes he is blinded by his own obsession and do stupid things. He was already bleeding, with a pencil piercing one of his eyes, thanks to Damian, then fled through the living room. I didn’t initially chase after him because I wanted to make sure Damian was okay; the problem was I hadn’t realized that Y/n wasn’t in the room. Damian had distracted Strange to let his sister escape, and because of my delay, he took her.”

Talia seemed to be in a trance. Each word weighed on her chest like lead, yet she threw them out as if they were disposable. Her usually confident and determined eyes didn’t know where to look. Sitting rigidly on the bed, her imposing posture didn’t waver, as her pride didn’t allow her to show weakness.

“What did he do?” Bruce throat tightened, as if the air was rarefied, as he waited for the answer. Talia might think otherwise, but he could see through her facade. And despite it being selfish to say this, he couldn’t feel a shred of concern for her, especially when someone more important to him was now involved.

After standing for so long, Bruce sat on the bed next to her. He reflected on the sad incident, deeply disturbed. He blamed her. He blamed her for her character, for lying so much, and for hiding from him that his children were in danger. He was grateful that she had fallen silent for a few seconds, as he was mentally preparing himself for a grim scenario, one he wasn’t yet ready to face.

“What happened to her?” He asked, seeing that she wasn’t showing signs of speaking, trying to prompt her to continue.

"Strange carried her through the city, desperately fleeing from me until he ended up in an alley. He encountered a group of drunks who surrounded and wanted to rob him. He's not a good fighter, you already know that, and like a damn coward, he threw her into their midst as a distraction while he escaped again.”

“Unbelievable…” Bruce massaged his eyebrows with his eyes closed, visibly upset. He pressed his temples hard, as if trying to dispel the accumulated frustration. After a deep breath, he suddenly exploded in a shout of frustration and anger, just like at the beginning. “You should have contacted me!"

“Are you trying to blame me?!” She asked indignantly.

"She didn't seem to recognize him when she spoke to me just now. It sounded like she was talking about a random stranger." Bruce was confused.

"I don't know if she would recognize him again, she never wanted to talk to me about that day. And I never mentioned Hugo Strange either, everything she knows about him she sees on the news."

“You and your father are the worst kind of people I could have gotten involved with,” Bruce said, his voice dangerously low this time. “If it weren't for Ra's, Strange would never have gotten close to them. If it weren't for your stupid lie, nothing you just said would have happened. And I don't even want to imagine what the hell happened after that!”

"You would have made sure nothing like that happened, wouldn't you, Bruce? You talk about it with such certainty, but weren't you the one who let the Joker do something similar to that kid… Is Jason his name?" Her mention of something like that made Bruce's ears go deaf. He could clearly hear the sound of his heart beating inside his chest, until her disgusting voice sounded again: "You would have put her in the same disgrace!"

Bruce lost the control he tried so hard to maintain from the beginning. He threw the lamp next to him into the headboard on the wall. The movement was so violent that the wire connecting the object to the socket broke in a strange way and the entire glass part broke into several pieces. The noise was thunderous, and even when he stood up with a piercing look at her, Talia continued with her laughing face, enjoying watching him go crazy.

“Don't try to compare the two things. You didn’t tell me about Strange before because you were embarrassed. It's too hard for you to admit that you can fail. Besides, you always liked having someone to control, to manipulate at your pleasure. You did this to her, didn't you? And even then, you’re not satisfied. You continued to torment Damian, using him.” Bruce took a deep breath.“I thought you cared about him.”

Talia got up too and lifted her chin, her eyes shining with defiance. “You understand nothing, Bruce,” she responded with a firm and cutting voice. “Everything I did was to protect them both. I explained my reasons to you. Do you think hiding them was just my decision? My father would never have allowed it, and I won't deny that I wasn’t against him, but it didn’t depend solely on me. You, with your inflexible morality and your rules, would never understand.”

“Don’t give me that,” Bruce growled, his gaze fixed and penetrating. “You branded the girl with your initials like she was cattle. It was never about protection; it’s possessiveness.”

Like him, Talia stood up. “I may be a woman of whims, as you like to say, but I didn’t hide anything because I was embarrassed”

Talia paused, her voice softening but not positively. “And as for tormenting him… I trained him, prepared him for the cruel world we live in. Do you think you could keep him safe with your mild methods? He needs to be strong, needs to be able to survive, and in those years I taught him to protect her because no one else would. My father didn’t care about a granddaughter; he finally had the male heir he wanted. I had to meet his demands to make Damian perfect, and that allowed me the freedom to raise her away from all that. What I could do, I did. And what I wanted to do, I also did. And I’d do it all again.”

“You always think you did everything right, but everything you’ve said only proves how misguided you are. I remember I gave you a choice, Talia. I told you that you could abandon the League of Assassins and come with me. I told you that your father didn't need to control your life forever,” Bruce said, his voice laden with disdain. “You will never come near her again. You’ll have to go over my dead body first.”

Talia narrowed her eyes in contempt. “Do you really think you can stop me?” Her voice was low and controlled, but each word carried significant weight. “You always saw the world in black and white. Do you really think it was so simple to abandon my entire life and devotion for you, a mere fleeting romance? If you think it’s that easy to give up everything, I challenge you to abandon Batman right now. After all, it’s because of this secret identity of yours that all this started, isn’t it? Isn’t it as easy as that, Bruce?”

She took a step forward, facing him without wavering. “I can repeat it as many times as you want: I am a criminal, I am selfish, and whatever else you want me to say, but the only hypocrite in this room is you.” Her eyes shone with determination, while his wavered before her.

Bruce hardened his expression, sadness hitting him. He wanted to accuse her of being a low person, but deep in his conscience, he feared it was true. But he wouldn’t allow himself to be deceived; she was still the wrong one here. She was the one who completely distorted the situation, making herself the victim and trying to justify everything she did, turning him into the villain of the story.

“Talia, I never wanted you to be any of these things,” he began, his voice laden with anguish. He felt bitterness looking at her face now, as it painfully reminded him of the time when he had been deeply in love with this same woman. “I wanted to believe you could change, that you would be different from your father. But every choice you made, every lie you told… Our relationship was unsustainable, and now the only thing I feel for you is remorse.”

He closed the last distance between them, imposing himself with a somber aura. “Your actions, your alliances… they put her at risk. My duty as a father is to protect her, and I can’t ignore the danger you represent. I never wanted it to come to this, Talia. But if keeping her safe means keeping her away from you, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Talia clenched her fists, her expression hardening even more. “Do you think I didn’t want to protect her too?” Her voice became silky. There was a dark delight in how the words dragged, a subtle poison hidden in each intonation. “You talk about protecting her, but she needs more than simple physical protection. She needs a mother, someone who understands the complexity of her feelings.”

“Look at yourself for a moment, Bruce,” said Talia, her voice icy and full of disdain. “You’re losing your composure. Do you really think she’ll like finding out that her father is this weak and ridiculous man you’ve become?”

The woman took a step forward, fixing her eyes on his with a challenging gleam. “The only thing she’ll feel for you is shame.”

"Do you really think you can tell me who I've become?" He paused, swallowing hard. "I didn't want it to come to this, Talia, but if you don't leave voluntarily, I'll be forced to tell that girl everything you've done. And then we'll let her decide."

He intensified the confrontation, provoking her: "Are you sure she would still choose you after so many lies? After everything you've hidden from her?" His eyes darkened, pupils dilated by the dim light in the room. "Value the good image she still has of you."

Talia was momentarily silent, her eyes meeting Bruce's with a genuine expression of concern. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice a bit more dangerous than before. "Would you really do that? Tell her everything?"

Bruce replied firmly, maintaining his serious gaze on hers. "It's what I must do, regardless of everything. Continuing to hide things isn't right. But if the only way for you to leave more easily is under this condition, then go now."

Talia took a few steps back, her serious expression showing shock and worry. Her thoughts repeated Bruce's ultimatum continuously, knowing you would not react well to it.

You were a smart girl, but emotionally very fragile. Your bonds of trust were limited to her and your brother, and you two had been apart for so long that having your relationship with your mother destroyed in this way would leave a huge scar on your heart. This would be the best choice, both for her and for you if Talia didn't want everything to fall apart.

She turned towards the bedroom hallway, as if seeking a moment to ponder the consequences. After a moment, she turned her gaze back to Bruce, her shoulders slightly lower. "You are not going to involve her in your vigilante life." It wasn't a request, it was a warning, and Bruce didn't contest it to avoid further conflict. Understanding that she had decided to leave was enough to reassure him.

"I didn't mean to." He walked past her, picking up your coat she had thrown on the floor earlier, checking carefully that it hadn't been damaged by the broken lampshade, and lifting the chair to let the piece dry once more.

"You know where the exit is; don't take too long." Without bothering to be polite, he quickly opened the door, leaving her standing there. He knew she would really leave after seeing how she reacted. She wouldn't risk irritating him by taking longer than necessary.

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

Text

Natalia III

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Talia reflects on your relationship

The first time Talia ever saw you, was on tv.

She was hunkered down in Patri's apartment avoiding going home to her parents because she knew that they would make her clean her room. A random Swedish league match was playing and she'd looked up from her phone to see you make a daring save that kept your team in the title race.

The commentator called you 'Linköping's young talent' and Talia had searched you up on the internet. She also briefly stalked your socials but came to the conclusion that you didn't really post much.

She didn't know what it was about you but you kept her interest. You seemed sweet enough in interviews, if a little nervous, and you looked especially sweet when your first stop after a match ended was to your parents.

Then, she met you on the youth teams.

It had been a while since Denmark and Spain had played against each other, longer than either of you had been on the teams.

Talia was excited to put your skills to the test and, maybe, to impress you with her skills too.

You were nervous when she approached you at the end of the match, oblivious to her flirting and teasing and to the way her eyes glanced down at your lips when you spoke and the way that she wouldn't stop touching you in ways that weren't friendly at all.

But, still, she had gotten your number and you had taken her out on a date that you didn't know was a date.

It was perfect, even if your parents were hunkered down at the back and very clearly trying to eavesdrop.

Youth teams don't guarantee a professional career though and Talia hopes that you and her will be the ones that make it despite the odds. She knows she's good. She's a great striker and she knows you're good too. You're a great keeper.

She just knew you'd both make it professional.

Talia signs for Barcelona's first team and you leave Linköping and Sweden for Arsenal and England.

Soon, you're abandoning Talia in the youth teams to take your rightful place in Sweden's senior team.

It's easier to get a hold of senior team matches so Talia has a much easier time watching you. You hold your own against the adults and, while you don't play as often as the other keepers, you still thrive and Talia's desperate to solidify her spot in the senior team to face you again.

You win things at Arsenal and Talia wins things at Barcelona.

She's not yet broken into the Spain senior team. Their front line is packed with talent and Natalia has yet to prove herself better than any of them.

The World Cup comes and goes and she's still in Spain, training her skills as you win the greatest football tournament in the world by your own two feet.

Then, you join Barcelona and Talia can't help herself.

The playful flirting she used to engage in goes into overdrive. You're oblivious though and it's just part of your charm.

It drives her crazy in the best way possible until that night in the club is the spark that ignites your relationship.

Now, though, you're in her bed.

She can hold you at night and play with you during the day and take Prins out for a walk with you in the evening.

You're in her bed and you're in her life as her girlfriend.

She's been to visits to Sweden with you and had long talks with your mothers. Your relationship was strong and stable and survived the year you went to France and all those times that Sweden had crushed Spain on the international level.

Sweden is going through a golden age of players and it's intimidating.

But you're at the helm, the one leading all of those talented youngsters, the one that opened the coach's eyes to what happens when young talent is brought into the squad as soon as possible.

You groan. "Talia?" Your eyes flutter open. "Are those my parents making all that noise?"

She had been ignoring that.

Your mothers were visiting and it sounded like they were rummaging through the kitchen if the banging of pots and pans were anything to go off.

"Yes," She says with a wince," I think so."

You groan, turning over and burying your face in Talia's chest. "Can we just ignore-"

There's a long string of swear words as a loud clatter of pans falling echoes around the house. Prins joins in and barks up a storm.

"Nevermind," You say," I'm up."

Your kitchen is a mess.

"Nothing is where it should be!" Magda's complaining as Pernille gingerly tries to put things back.

"This isn't your house," You say with a teasing huff," We organise things a different way."

"Your Morsa was trying to make breakfast," Pernille says," She's forgotten that breakfast was never her speciality."

"We can go and grab breakfast." Talia comes out of the bedroom, fully dressed and pulling her hair back. "I've already ordered something."

The way she's said it makes you frown and you miss the way Magda and Pernille's eyes light up in delight at what she says.

"I'll come." What's even weirder is Magda is the one that offers. Morsa is still in that phase where she's pretending to hate absolutely everything about Talia, at least to her face so it's strange that she's having some one-on-one time with your girlfriend.

"Oh," You say with a frown," Give me a second. I'll put on my-"

"No," Pernille cuts you off quickly," Let those two get it. We can tidy up this kitchen."

"Oh...er...okay. I guess?"

Talia loves that you're oblivious. She's been dropping hints all week and the week before. She'd asked you specific questions and said very specific things but you're none the wiser about her true intentions.

To you, it just seems like Talia's picked up a sudden interest in rings.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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just-zy · 3 months

Text

Cursed Bloodsucker

pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader!

summary: A day of the week, you'd think curses and hexes was all on the same day, but surely it wasn't that bad.. You had a girlfriend, didn't you?

A/N: I feel good tonight, and I feel like I didn't do pretty shitty here..

Warnings!: ermmm....ooc wednesday probably..

Masterlist

Being a vampire had its perks, but everything seemed to be..a downside for a certain individual today, specifically, friday. One might say, 'Oh, but how bad can it be?', well...

"O–Ow, Jesus Christ, easy on the stitches Wednesday.."

"If you'd just listen to what I had told you, we wouldn't be in this predicament."

Waking up early wasn't a problem for the vampire, so instead of listening to Wednesday, she decided to sleep in, and look where that got the bloodsucker. Running off to her second period while trying to neat out her wrinkled vest. She couldn't see well really, having her satchel slinging on her shoulder for dear life, her sunglasses almost falling off before she got inside the classroom, what a sight to see.

Disheveled hair, wrinkled clothes, slipping satchel, she thought it couldn't get worse.

She might've jinxed that one, that for a moment she thought she was cursed for living on specific days.

Walking was supposedly calming for the vampire, but today just seemed to be a day you wanted to get over with.

"Okay, what's for lunch, ooh– gimme!"

"Y– Y/N! Stop—!"

She was determined to have a bite of whatever Enid was having for lunch, unknowingly, the utensil Enid decided to use for todays lunch was silvered utensils. Why did that school have silvered utensils anyway? Well, labels. They have labels.

She reacted instantly to the object, dropping the spoon, immediately. "Fucks sake! Wha–"

"That's silver!"

If only she didn't let her intrusive thoughts win for once, maybe then she'd live another day.

Another problem, a full moon was happening tonight, what a coincidence!

She felt too worn out to even go out and feed, but she just had to, didn't she.

That same night, she did quite have an interaction with a shifting wolf, then gets mauled. What are the chances, huh? Thankfully, Wednesday was there to save the day! Or night.

"I feel exhausted, thank goodness it's the weekend tomorrow..I don't always have the best luck on friday's I swear, I'm cursed."

"Perhaps it's because you think you are."

Wednesday tidies the kit and stitches on the vampires bed, making her way in the bathroom and began cleansing her hands filled with the blood of her girlfriend.

"No– I really do have bad lucks on fridays.. Remember that one time I had an essay due? And I accidentally poured coffee, everywhere. Then there was that time when I slipped on the stairs and nipped my fucking tooth, and had my lip busted. But, I guess– they weren't as bad.. Because I had a lovely, gorgeous girlfriend to help me recover from all of that.."

The raven sat next to the vampire, scrutinizing her lover. She had a light smirk plastered on her lips, she leaned forward, your lips mere inches away from touching. You waited, you always did. You closed your eyes, awaiting her plump crimson lips making contact with yours, but that didn't happen. Tonight was different, she felt like tormenting you. She had only pecked your cheek.

What. The. Fuck.

Bothered, you gazed at her as she began inspecting the stitches on your arm. "Stitches look horrendous on you, Cara Mia."

"You're just pure evil, like the devil, did you know that?" You grumbled, unhappy that she still hasn't given you the one thing that you were waiting for all day, considering she was out with Eugene the whole day.

"Some consider me as Lucifer's daughter, but that isn't new, no."

Her eyes looked rather, luminous under the moons emitting light, you were ready to do everything she'd order you to, even let her redo the perfect stitches she's done just so she could have all her attention back at you, while she enjoys at what she does best. Being your girlfriend.

You didn't dare disrespect her, or even trespass her boundaries and limitations. Never in your life would anything hurtful leave that mouth of yours, you love her too much to do so.

Your gaze didn't leave her still figure, if anything it made you more focused on her, and only her. Your fingertips grazing on her pale skin, feeling her burgundy lips on your finger, to your desperate bloodied lips.

Fridays in the morning were a no, but the night time was an exception.

______+______

A/N: Wednesday has my heart, but she's soo difficult to write for sometimes 💔 this is a makeup for the recent imagine 😌

#wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams x you

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redsaurrce · 2 months

Text

EYE FOR AN EYE

SUMMARY : He loves you to the point he is willing to give up his most precious thing- himself.. and an eye.

PAIRING : Student Jungkook x Fem!Teacher reader

WORD COUNT : 1,814

WARNINGS : YANDERE THEMES, OBSESSION, Gore, mentions of blood, mental illnesses, drugs, kidnapping, manipulation, words of profanity, suggestive, he is down BAD, don't fall for his tricks (you won't right?)

"Perfect As!"

"Model student"

"Topper of the school"

"Captain of the soccer team"

"Student council member"

And so on...

Jungkook was it all- for you. Everywhere your eyes laid, he was the perfect student anyone would dream to have in their class.

He was known for being the best and but not for being the bully because he wouldn't let them expose him, not when he almost has fooled you into believing that he was the best boy.. for you.

Well there's no fooling to it perhaps, he indeed is the best boy to ever exist in your life. Any man who'd dare to touch you is dead by the break of dawn, isn't he such a gentleman for protecting you?

Or told his parents (the owners of the school) about you so that you get extra benefits from the school? Isn't that so cool? Who would it do for you? It's none other than him.

Then why did you reject him?

"I am the best in everything, the girls are willing to sell themselves just to have a private talk with me, the teachers try their best to make a good impression on me to gain something, literally everyone wants to be friends with me or wants me and if you're worried of me being younger than you by 5 years ... That's no big deal at all-"

"Stop it Jungkook!" You were angry, "None of this justifies why you've kidnapped me!??And first and foremost, you're such a narcissist - so what if the girls want you? I'm not interested in you the slightest bit, I only ever saw you as a student, nothing more than that. Make a good impression? Why should I?"

"Oh so you're not worried about getting kicked out of school?" He raised his eyebrows.

You scoffed, "I've got more important things to worry about, I don't care about getting kicked out, I already have a list of schools who have offered me better salary than here."

"Then why didn't you leave yet??" He asked you, he was puzzled.

"Why should I tell you? Oh and- what's the meaning of this? First you drug me and bring me to a place I don't know where- how dare you lay a finger on me??!" You clenched your jaw.

"Oh dear oh dear, I care about every single thing related to you, morning, night, anytime of the day I think about you. When I see you- i- I feel so happy. My parents are happy about us Y/N! You are the perfect daughter in law for them, you are smart, brave, kind and bold- i love that personality of yours- i- I love you." He was not joking, you saw him physically shaking from expressing how much he loved you.

He was going insane.

You chuckled, "But I don't like you. You call yourself perfect but in my eyes I've never seen someone as flawed as you."

He started striding towards you and grabbed your chin roughly, "Yeah? I guess I couldn't really hide myself from you then. Then fix me, fix me the way you want me to." His grip on your chin loosens and he leans down, his face coming in the level of yours, "Shape me into the man you want me to be Y/N. I'll do everything you say-"

"Then leave me alone-"

"Shushh!" He placed his index finger on your lips, "Everything except anything that requires you to leave me."

Your eyes were filled with rage, "I will kill you."

"Now, now calm down, you will have plenty of ways to kill me Y/N, afterall getting your hands on my neck is a dream for me." He smirks and leans down to kiss you.

How dare he??!

Just when his lips were about to touch yours, you bumped into him with full power. Little did you know that you had accidentally targeted his left eye.

"BLOOD???" Your eyes went wide.

"AHHH!! YOU- I- I JUST- AAAHHHH" jungkook started screaming in pain.

Did you just make him blind??

"I-- I'm sorry." Tears started to well up in your eyes when you got a flashback of you accidentally throwing a sharp object in your brother's eye making his eye lose eyesight.

It was the left eye.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to do that- if- if you didn't come close to me this wouldn't have happened." You started crying.

"Ambulance - we need to call for an ambulance." You quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed the emergency number.

"Are you miss Choi Y/N?" You looked up at the source of the voice.

"We are from the police and we have received a police report against you." You looked at the pair and stood up from the chair you were sitting on outside the operation theatre.

"What kind of report?" You frowned.

One of them sighed and said, "For attacking one your students - Jeon Jungkook."

"What??"

"Did you attack him or not?" He asked firmly.

You shook your head, "It was self defence."

"Self defence you say?" He raised his right eyebrow, "I don't see any signs of violence on you?"

Your eyelids flickered, "I- I was drugged and taken to his place then he threatened to get intimate with me so I bumped my head in his face in self defence!"

"You were drugged?" He clicked his tongue and continued, "How about we run a drug test to confirm your statement?"

You nodded, "yes please."

...

After half a day of spending in anxiousness the police came back. "Miss Choi... rather than your blood, we found a drug in the victim's blood. How would you explain that?"

You were confused beyond anything, "H-how is that possible??"

"And we found those drugs in your possession."

"Bullshit!" You protested, unable to decipher wtf was going on.

Just when the police were about to take you away, someone screamed.

"Halt! I am Jungkook's mother and Y/N's mother-in-law. How dare you take her away? They only had a quarrel normal couples would have, my son got hurt in the process by mistake. About the drug, my son has some psychic problems and the doctor has recommended it. If my daughter-in-law wouldn't carry it for her husband then who will?? Do you want me to show you the prescriptions or what?"

What in the world was going on?? What is that lady saying? Mother-in-law? What? All of this was too much for you to take in so you fainted out of sheer stress.

---

You slowly open your eyes and let the light wake you up. You whimpered as you tried to get up only to find Jungkook sitting beside your bed on a tool with his head rested on the bed. He was sleeping peacefully with bandages on his left eye- suddenly everything that happened that day started to hit you.

"oh you're awake- thank god!" He woke up at the creaking sound with his eyes going wide.

You looked at him, "what- what about your eye?"

"oh right, I've already consulted with a doctor in the States, he said that my eyes will get better with an operation that'll cost millions of dollars but.... I'll be fine. " he smiled.

Did he just say millions of dollars???

"Ah and don't worry about my mother's gibberish, she did so to protect you. Right! Talking about my mother- your mother and brother came to see you yesterday.. you were out for three days you know?" He said with a worried face.

"They came?" You asked with wide eyes. You thought they'd hate you for what you did to your brother but it seems like you can still redeem yourself.. right? But how?

"I also noticed your brother had a left eye injury?"

"Oh uhm yeah he has." You gulped feeling extremely ashamed and guilty of yourself.

You felt like a curse to anyone who came close to you. You felt awful.

"You see, the offer is still there.. I can help you with your brother's eye operation too." He said with doe eye.

Your eyes sparkled up, "You will?? Then- then I promise I'll repay you with my hardwork-"

He laughed, "Y/N we're talking about millions of dollars here, even if you work your ass off for seven more lives, you cannot pay me back.. especially with a job like that.

You hated how he was right but even if there was slightest bit of a way-

"Marry me. And as a husband it'll be my duty to pay for my wife's brother." He placed forth his end of negotiation.

You gulped, "Why do you even like me? Why did your mother go to such lengths to save me? What have I even done for you to forgive me for hurting you like this but still want to marry me?"

"You see right through me Y/N. Remember how you were the only teacher who stood up for the corruption going inside the school, my father liked you since then.

Then when i was falling behind in academics- you gave me your attention when no other teacher did because they enjoyed seeing me crumble, they think I have a superiority complex so they wanted to see me go down."

"i did that as a teacher." You spoke.

"I dont care. I love you, Y/N. I like your boldness, your kindness, your smartness, everything of yours- I love it." I'm obsessed with it.

You sighed, is this how your life was going to be? You let out a deep breath, "Fine. Let's get married. You said you'll help with my brother's operation right?"

He instantly smiled so wide he hugged you at once, "Thankyou, thankyou so much Y/N, thankyou so much." He spoke through your hair and was shaking through the hug, you held him back to calm him down and he held on to you tighter.

You were kind, smart and bold but sometimes you can be dumb too.

Jungkook smirked.

He staged all of this to get you, how naïve were you. You couldn't tell how it was suspicious for your head to hit his eye to create that extreme damage.

He had injured his eye himself while moving forward with force when he saw your head was about to collide.

He predicted your every next move, as much as you could see through him, he wanted to see through you.

He used your trauma with your brother to get you, you can be dumb sometimes too.. right?

And he was ready to sacrifice everything for you, starting with his eye.

Ahhh welcome back after a long time babies 😩💗💗

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook smut #jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #yandere x reader #jungkook #yandere bts #yandere headcanons #yandere smut #yandere kpop #yandere #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc

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rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months

Text

best friends dad part three

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only!, extreme age gap, cheating, semi public sex?, kind of caught, p in v sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink

part one / part two / part three

“what were you doing in there again?” your friend stares at you, like she knows the truth but her mind won't let her accept it.

“in where?” you question, looking at your nails like her probing doesn't bother you, like it isn't clear of her suspicion growing, asking about the incident that happened last week.

“in the bathroom. with my dad.” she clarifies.

“oh, i told you already, didn't i?” you scrunch your brows together, like she's the weird one for asking. “i got a splinter in my foot and he was helping get it out.”

you're not sure it's the best story, but it's the first one you came up with when she caught you, rafes cum flooding inside you despite his daughter just feet away, separated by a thin wooden door.

“okay.” she mumbles.

you know despite her questions that she wouldn't dare accuse you or flat out ask if you're fucking her father. you've been through too much together, and she's far too naive.

it's why you're not worried about slipping out of her room when she falls asleep that night, sharing a bed like you always do for your sleepovers.

hallway. you message rafe. you remember the first time you got his number, it was middle school softball season. you would occasionally text him asking for rides home when he picked up his daughter.

rafe is out of his room in a second, a panicked look on his face.

“she could have been awake.” he whispers, eyes wide.

“but she wasn't.” you roll your eyes, not sure what the dramatics are about when his wife didn't see the text.

“what do you want? i told you we can't keep doing this, we almost got caught.”

“i want you to fuck me.” you pull your pajama shorts down your legs, showing rafe that you're wearing nothing underneath. “right here in this hallway.”

“god, this is so fucking wrong.” rafe shakes his head, voice still a whisper as he pulls his cock out from his pants, not disrobing as much as you out of fear of getting caught.

“you say that every time.” you roll your eyes. “yet still cum inside me.”

“shut up.” rafe grunts, pushing you against the wall, your best friends room on the other side, a fact rafe knows too well as he tries his best to be quiet.

rafe picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as his already hard cock lines up with your entrance. truth is, he is constantly half hard when he knows you're over, just waiting for you to entice him into sex.

“when was the last time you fucked someone like this, huh?” you smirk as rafe pushes inside of you, your walls being stretched by his length.

“was it when your wife was my age?” you ask. truth is, you don't even know when rafe and his wife met and if it was that young, but you love the way he fucks you faster every time you bring up his marriage.

“your pussy-” rafe grunts out, struggling to keep himself quiet. “your pussy is so fucking good.”

“mhm.” you nod. “and your cock is perfect, daddy. love having you inside me.”

rafe shoves his head into your shoulder to hold back his moans as his hips rock into yours, your nails pressing into his back over his shirt, hoping you leave marks he has to stammer to explain to his wife.

you wonder what it would take for them to divorce. what his wife's reaction would be if she caught you in the act. would it be enough to break up the family?

“touch my clit.” you command. rafe quickly listens, moving his hands from holding your hips up to wrapping one around your waist, the other moving between your legs, rubbing his thumb over your clit.

“that's so good, daddy. gonna cum for me?”

“yeah, close.” rafe warns, his cock pulsing inside of you.

“good.” you smile. “cum inside me. fill up my tight young pussy.”

rafe presses his mouth further into your skin as he moans, cum pumping inside of you in a steady stream, triggering your own orgasm as his warmth spreads, not as quiet with your moans as his thumb continues to stroke your clit through your high.

“fucking hell, that was too risky.” rafe shakes his head. “we can't keep fucking like this.”

“you'll keep coming for me every time i call. you're mine.” you tell rafe as he slowly lowers you, making sure you don't wobble as he sets your feet back firmly on the floor.

“im yours.” rafe says sadly, tucking his cock back into his pants while you pull your shorts back on, knowing you're about to ruin them with cum.

“now give me a kiss goodnight, daddy.” you pucker your lips, rafe pressing a chaste kiss against them. you don't wait to see him go back into his shared bedroom with his wife as you sneak back into his daughters room.

as you lay down back next to her in bed, your eyes adjust to the low light, suddenly haunting your movements when you realize she's awake and staring at you, a hurt look in her eyes.

she knows.

you continue your actions, letting out a sigh of relief when she doesn't say anything. doesn't confess. doesn't get mad, simply rolls over so her back is to you.

you smirk to yourself. she may know, but she won't tell.

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choerypetal · 10 months

Text

Love at first Sight / Billy The Kid

summary : billy assumed the role of your father's right-hand man, working for a man rooted in tradition and possessing a distasteful approach toward women, especially you. as he engaged in conversations with his boss expressing displeasure regarding you, billy found himself increasingly interested in you. your situation, bound by an arranged marriage to the mayor's son—a union you adamantly rejected—created a unique backdrop. It was during a specific event that billy had the opportunity to meet your father's daughter, and in that moment, he became a firm believer in the existence of love at first sight. this entire journey began with his enduring fascination with the scent of your perfume back at your mother's stable.

ps : english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes and grammar errors. please don't copy my work without giving proper credit. thank you!

Billy never experienced a genuine sense of belonging, whether he was away or striving to improve the situation for his family. He was acutely aware of society's treatment of outliers. As the affluent men from the village strolled through the suburbs, they, too, recognized the presence of criminals in their midst, and Billy found himself among them. And yet, he blended himself quite well with the wealth too.

Although you had expected to be the new talk of the town, an arranged marriage with the mayor's son was not on your list of future goals. Furthermore, being wedded to an arrogant individual who was well aware that it was merely a strategic move, and behind closed doors, he had no qualms about bringing his mistress into the same house, was beyond anything you had envisioned. Especially considering that if you had dared to do the same, your father would unleash his fury and shame at dawn, calling you the same names he had directed at your mother. She, in a desperate attempt, had reluctantly embraced the notion of marriage solely to preserve the family legacy.

"She will marry him, no questions asked." Uttered your father, the day before the marriage. And even in this assertion, it was the most affectionate sentiment he could muster towards his wife. Over time, you began to harbor suspicions that he, too, maintained a relationship outside the confines of home. In contrast to your newly arranged husband, your father, at least, displayed a modicum of dignity and refrained from entirely demeaning his wife in the presence of someone he found more alluring.

While the mere rumor of the mayor's son getting married spread, it didn't take long for the news to reach even those living close to your mansion. It was an announcement that resonated beyond the village. Citizens from the village, including yourself, were invited to celebrate this new union. Despite wanting to find humor in the irony of the situation, you found yourself gazing at your reflection in the mirror that very morning. Your hair was styled more meticulously than usual, and your maid affectionately applied a touch of powdered blush on your cheeks, suggesting that you should also apply a shade of red to your lips—apparently, your husband's favorite color. However, this notion raised suspicions that he might have mentioned it merely as a reminder of his own extramarital affair.

On the contrary, Billy found himself deeply engrossed in his pursuit of a plan to earn money and provide for his family back home. What he failed to mention was that he had been working for a member of your family since the very beginning. However, he soon found himself bewildered, troubled by the revelation that your father had a daughter. Despite being accustomed to your father's often proudly expressed family affairs, what offended Billy the most was the notion of witnessing such a beautiful girl tethered to a man he could hardly bear to part with—your new husband.

As your father's right-hand man, Billy was privy to more information than he probably should have been. He spent countless hours in conversations, observing how your new husband seemed enamored with the notion of having you as his wife. He openly entertained the idea that his mistress was even more alluring, describing her in rather explicit terms. This perspective left Billy contemplating the disdain these two men harbored—not only for their wealth but also for their audacity in talking about you with so much filth coming from their mouth.

Unbeknownst to both of you, there was a transparent tension in the air. Your father, having the audacity, warned Billy to tread carefully. "She's a spicy one, you know." He casually remarked one night at the pub, with your mother expressing concern over your father's prolonged absence. "She could make any man fall in love, a seductress she is." The words of your husband tempted Billy to rise and deliver a punch to his face, but he understood that such an act would cost him his job. Driven by the determination to catch a glimpse of your beautiful face on your wedding day, he suppressed his impulse. "You seem quiet tonight, boy." Your father's voice resonated in Billy's already agitated mind. Despite his initial disdain for the man who employed him, this time, Billy managed a smile. Aware that alcohol had taken its toll on the two affluent men, he began to entertain the thought that perhaps even the most sought-after criminal could outsmart every wealthy aristocrat, including your father and your husband.

As the reality of today being the wedding day sank in, you were expected to catch a glimpse of your husband before the ceremony. How mistaken you were when you decided to step out for a breath of fresh air. Suppressing tears, you tried not to panic at the thought of soon saying "Yes" to your husband, officially binding yourself to him. It was at that moment that Billy saw you in full. Carrying out a discreet surveillance as per your father's instructions, he had to halt his horse to avoid causing a disturbance in your courtyard. Dressed in his customary attire, a matching hat and blouse with his curls peeking through, he stood under the humid weather. His piercing blue eyes locked onto your silhouette. In that moment, Billy realized that love at first sight was indeed a reality.

Your thoughts were consumed by anxiety as you made every effort not to appear completely distraught. Amidst the constant pressure to present perfection, a seemingly inconsequential decision loomed large, poised to alter your life entirely. You were on the verge of declaring your desire to escape this distressing situation forever. If it weren't for your mother's insistence on keeping her daughter by her side, you might have left the wretchedness long before venturing into the wilderness. It was during this tumultuous time that the sound of a horse approaching caught your attention, guided to a halt. A boy of your age emerged, and there was a sense that he might be an outlaw in the employ of your husband's family. His gentle gaze met yours, prompting you to approach cautiously. "May I help you?" You inquired, hoping your recent tears had dried by this point, and the dryness in your voice was simply a result of dehydration.

"I reckon I should be askin' you the same question, darlin'." The accent hinted that the boy hailed from the South. A man of his demeanor might be viewed with disdain or seen as one who relishes the rugged existence of the wilderness as a mere challenge. However, his mannerisms suggested that this same man was well-acquainted with the nomadic lifestyle. Perhaps, if you were an unattached lady with enough daring in your spirit to break free, you could run away—with or without a total stranger—just as long as it meant being far away from home. "Billy's the name. Your father hired me to be..." He paused momentarily, conscious of your father's confession the previous night about you being the woman he envisioned. However, Billy wanted to witness it with his own eyes and found himself captivated by your subtle vulnerability and the fearlessness you displayed in conversing with someone of lesser means, not to mention a criminal. "His right-hand man. I reckon we haven't been properly introduced. You must be Y/N.”

Your eyes widened in shock, almost in disbelief, though it wasn't entirely surprising that your father would enlist someone to handle his less savory tasks. It wasn't until today's events that you truly learned about the man your father had only briefly mentioned, leaving you to think he was nothing more than an urban legend. Considering the amount of alcohol in his system, you were hardly surprised. Yet, there he stood—the man your father boasted about during lengthy dinners with his men: Billy the Kid. A figure with a shrewd skill for shooting intruders without hesitation, coupled with a charming demeanor. "I am..." You confessed, your admiration for his demeanor evident as you approached. You became conscious of the horse, realizing it was from your mother's stable. "She's been fed properly." Billy remarked, noting your gesture as you began to caress the braided hair of Billy's horse—a routine you had always done, realizing it was all along the horse reserved for him. "Love the braids, by the way."

His compliment sent a warm flush to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to know the owner's skill in braiding. I wanted to thank them, but a little bird told me it was someone's daughter who's about to get married. And upon hearing that, I was sad to hear such news." Among all the men you had encountered in your life, something distinctive resonated in Billy, acknowledging the small gesture. He was aware of your presence only at the wrong times and different hours, lamenting the missed opportunity of not meeting you sooner, especially after learning the news of you becoming a recognized wife.

The news struck Billy deeply. In all honesty, he meant every word he spoke. He realized it was merely a matter of being there at the right time, and he could have been the one to offer you in marriage. The thought of heritage and the possibility of being dismissed due to your father's demise didn't concern him. Billy began to believe that if you had been with him all along, you could have been a free lady. Unlike many men in the wilderness, he would have treated you as the woman you were meant to be—a princess in his eyes. Cheating, for him, was a sin. Despite his own involvement in many crime, he was determined not to tolerate disloyalty and would damn well wage a war against any men who prioritized their sins over loyalty.

"I—" You were so taken aback by Billy's sudden interest that unfamiliar feelings stirred within you, emotions you hadn't experienced in a long time. You had convinced yourself that love was a distant memory, and the idea of loving your own husband seemed utterly ridiculous. "Y/N! The ceremony is about to start!" Your mother's voice interrupted, drawing attention to Billy's presence. A formal smile appeared on her face, indicating that they knew each other long before you did. After all, he was involved in your father's business, and your father was adept at keeping his affairs away from you. "Billy." Your mother called out his name, prompting a respectful bow from him. "Miss." He acknowledged. "I'll leave you two ladies for the preparations, going back to duty." He announced, to which your mother responded. "Oh, you know you're always welcomed, boy. We even kept a plate for you. You're family."

"You're family." The words echoed in your mind as your mother gently took your arm, guiding you back inside to try on your wedding dress. Before stepping fully inside, you stole a final glance at Billy. He acknowledged your gaze with a brief nod, and you could have sworn you saw a soft smile, implying that everything was going to be okay.

But it didn't. The marriage turned out to be a complete spectacle. The meticulously arranged plates, with the white and red combination your husband had chosen, were even more distasteful than the concept of marriage itself. Despite having said "Yes," anticipating your father's intense gaze throughout the entire wedding, you were proven wrong. To no one's surprise, after a few drinks, he was already drunk and couldn't care less. However, you sensed someone's gaze shifting entirely from your mother to you from afar. It was Billy's gaze, his usual blue eyes looking at you so lovingly that he began to curse himself for not being the fortunate man to propose. "Don't they make a loving pair," your mother would say to him, although it was only for show. Your mother had shown signs of concern that your husband had already found a mistress back at home. She wanted to ensure that you felt the love your husband supposedly felt for the other ladies, and that man turned out to be Billy.

You came to the realization that throughout dinner, you had been putting on a façade, performing an act solely to appease the affluent company. The discomfort gradually intensified until it manifested as a nauseating twist in your stomach, making it impossible to consume such an excessive amount of food in such a short span. The moment your husband, adorned with a forced smile and a trace of alcohol on his breath, attempted to lean in, you swiftly rose from your seat. A disconcerting sensation lingered as you tried to evade his touch. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but notice Billy's unwavering gaze, indicating his awareness that something was amiss. True to his character as a loyal confidant, he patiently bided his time until you excused yourself, following suit shortly after. However, Billy's departure did not go unnoticed by your father, who inquired about his early exit. "Just need some fresh air." Was Billy's offered explanation.

Only upon reaching the back door did your eyes well up with tears, the very tears you had struggled desperately to conceal both before and after the wedding. As you brushed your fingers against a ring that didn't rightfully belong to you, an overwhelming desire to scream surged within. The pain and desperation begged for an outlet, a release, but no words emerged. Collapsing to your knees, vulnerability engulfed you completely.

Billy trailed behind, intending to afford you some privacy and a moment alone. However, what he hadn't anticipated was stumbling upon you in such a distressed state. Witnessing you in such a condition was beyond his comprehension. It was inconceivable for him to imagine seeing someone as beautiful and wise as you in such turmoil, especially considering that even his own boss, your father, would allow such a fate. You only became aware of his presence when the rhythmic thud of boots on the wooden planks reached your ears near the back door. Swiftly turning around, you flinched at the sudden noise, relieved to find it was only Billy, signaling there was no need for concern. “Woah there Darlin’. It’s just me…”

The casual and frequent use of "Darling" as a term of address by you was a mannerism you couldn't envision any other man adopting. The way he effortlessly and elegantly incorporated it into his speech hinted at an attraction that went beyond mere details. It was apparent that he harbored a profound desire to get to know you better, suggesting a possibility of rediscovering the love you believed was lost. This, of course, hinged on your continued role as a dutiful wife to your husband. However, Billy had his own agenda and plans in motion. That you would come with him, back home.

Your hands strained to reach out, desperate for a connection or anything tangible that could restore the emotions you longed to feel. You yearned to be loved for the woman you truly were, not merely a decorative statue to be admired at someone else's convenience. "Hey—" He noticed your discomfort, limping in an attempt to maintain the facade of perfection. "Shh... Come here." His arms tenderly encircled your waist, a stark contrast to his robust frame, displaying a genuine fear of causing harm. A true gentleman, he was. As he caught the scent of your delicate perfume, a vivid memory surfaced—the first time he encountered it was when your father had gifted him his retired horse. That same fragrance lingered in the horse's mane. Back then, he couldn't put a face to the scent, but now, he was fortunate to not only have a face to associate it with but also a person to cherish.

"I feel so disgusted... A woman with a husband should not sin." You confessed to him, torn between the desire to have Billy all to yourself and the looming temptation. The notion of love at first sight seemed undeniable, but Billy, with genuine concern, attempted to steer you away from such thoughts. "And let your husband be with that whore back home without even worrying about his own wife? I call that bullshit." His Southern accent became more pronounced, his breath closer beneath your face, and his eyes gleaming in the bright sun of the wilderness. "I wouldn't mind making the husband regret something." He added nonchalantly.

Tilting your head, your gaze was solely fixed on him. "And what sort of action do you propose to make my husband regret so profoundly?" You teased him with a hushed tone. This banter was a familiar game for you, reminiscent of the numerous long dinners accompanying your father, where many men sought your hand in marriage. Yet, all those efforts went to waste, leading your father to plead with you to consider marrying the mayor's son. "Will you love me the way you're looking at me right now?" You inquired, playfully challenging.

"I'll do whatever it takes." He asserted confidently, his thumb tracing the line of your chin, lifting it gently to meet your gaze. Your eyes momentarily wandered to the slightly exposed chest, a sight he might have deliberately unveiled for your eyes only. "Anything within my power to claim you as mine. Even if the consequences become their own, I'm willing to make you feel at home once again."

The notion of feeling at home had eluded you for quite some time, a sensation you hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. The concept of home seemed so distant that even your own residence became something almost unfathomable, much like the tears that had once dried only to resurface now. It occurred to you that perhaps Billy was the man you had longed to find in your life. If not for that realization, you would be compelled to thank your father for hiring Billy during that critical moment. Fortunately for both of you, Billy shared the same fervor to bring you home with him, even if it meant sneaking out or feigning vacations.

“Wouldn’t, they suspect of my absent? My husband could care less anyway…” Billy chuckled slightly at the irony of the situation. Something he too found oddly ironic by the subject of you being the object of another wedding that in the end was only to keep the money aligned. “I might have a few tricks up to my sleeve, darlin’. How do we say? By dawn tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up.”

As you contemplated the excuse, fully aware that you would scrutinize it, he pressed on. "Mother said she'll keep this a secret. She mentioned you'd been in contact with a distant cousin, and the plan was for you to spend a few weeks there and such. Oddly enough, your husband didn't seem to mind and even agreed." Your eyes registered disbelief. Did you hear correctly? Your mother? The same mother who appeared so vulnerable and hesitant, had orchestrated everything behind your father’s back. She was likely cognizant of Billy's admiration for you since his initial visit to the stable, where he expressed a desire to confront your father whenever he spoke of you in a distasteful manner.

"I promised her that I'd protect you and play the part of an unsuspecting ally upon returning to your husband. Your father tasked me with being your right-hand man this time, but it seems our luck had something even more significant in store." He confessed with softened eyes. A part of you yearned to embrace him, to acknowledge and reciprocate his admiration. However, your gaze shifted to his lips, a desire he sensed had been lingering since your first meeting. Without hesitation, he gently held your chin with one hand, drawing your lips closer to his, fully immersing both of you in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss you had no intention of ending, a kiss that spoke of love—something noticeably absent in your husband's crude and repulsive attempts to win your favor. “Mine…” You whispered so softly, begging for more kisses through it all.

“Mine forever… Señorita.”

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kadwrites · 1 year

Text

my mother's daughter | T.S

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summary ; you and your mother get into a heated argument

warnings ; arranged marriage!trope , angst , mommy issues?, fluff, soft!tommy , your mother is kinda annoying , ada is a girls girl idk

a/n ; i don't know what to think of this part ??

your nostrils flared as you stride through the venue's corridors to the room your family had booked to get ready in.

madeline and fiona walk behind you, too nervous to say anything. tommy stayed behind, too many important people were there , he couldn't just disappear yet.

you open the door and there she is, celest and her daughters around her, you lift your dress and crouch

"what did she do?" you drop the dress and hold her face in your hands , looking at her. her eyes red and her lips quivering

"it's okay..."

"no it's fucking not."

"why are you here? you should be with the guests!"

your face twitches and your sister grips your hands whispering "no no no."

your nieces hold their breath as they stare at eachother. the room is tense , the air feels scarce

you turn around, your chest is heaving with angry, shallow breaths "what the fuck is wrong with ya mum?"

she closes the door behind her, fearing someone will hear. someone was hearing all of this, madeline and fiona were behind the door.

"what are you on about , young lady?" she speaks sternly

"and ya 'ave the fucking nerve to act angry?" you walk closer, moments from the day she told you about the marriage flashing in your head "look at what ya did to 'er!"

"she wanted to wear my necklace!" she raised her voice

"who cares? it's just a necklace!" you raise your voice too

"i do! it was meant for you, not her" she points at your sister "she got her own engagement party and her own wedding when she married that twat."

"i don't fucking want it mum, i don't want the fucking necklace." your teeth grind against eachother "i don't want anything from ya."

"how dare you...." she points her finger at you now

"no mum, no ya don't get to play this fucking card anymore" your voice cracks "why couldn't ya just let us be fucking happy for once mum? why did ya 'ave to do this?" your eyes fill with tears "right when i started being happy again? when i accepted everything? you do this"

"you're acting like i ruined your party!"

"ya made my sister cry!" you point at celest "she's been the one that's comforting me, taking care of me when ya were too busy playing the role of the self righteous mother." you take a step back , pointing at celest "she will wear whatever the fuck she wants,"

your mother puts a hand on her chest "how could you speak to me like that?"

"how could ya be so selfish mum?"

"selfish?" she chuckles bitterly "you wouldn't be here without me..." she points at the door behind her "this place? you wouldn't have even dreamt of seeing without me, that dress? you wouldn't have even touched without me, nothing here would be even a reality with me."

your jaw clenches and you just stare at her, in disbelief.

you just walk out, your feet leading you to god knows where,

your mother glares at celest before turning but stopping in her tracks, seeing tommy at the door.

"girls, would ya please take your mother out? maybe take 'er to the ladies room yeah? let 'er wash 'er face." he stares at your mother while he speaks, and your nieces scurry out with their own mother

"excuse me." your mother tries to leave but he blocks her way again

"get back in here."

she turns, staring back at him

"ya will listen to me , and ya will listen carefully." he speaks in a monotone voice "ya will go to your daughter, and ya will apologize and ya will fucking behave for the rest of the night."

"what?" her brows are furrowed, she's offended

"and if ya even think of pulling a stunt like that on our wedding day, i will drag ya out of it kicking and screaming if i 'ave to." he doesn't falter or even respond to what she said

"this is a family matter, it doesn't concern you."

"she is my family," he gets closer to her "ya do not want to test me , elizabeth. ya know what im capable of."

"what are you going to do thomas? kill me?" she asks with a bitter hiss

"ya arranged this whole thing so i can protect your daughter did ya not? , that's what im fucking doing" he doesn't even dignify her protests "ya will act like a happy mother, ya will not embarrass me or my fiancée , ya will not cause a fucking scene in my engagement, do ya hear?"

she doesn't speak, just looking at him

"i said do ya fucking hear me, elizabeth?"

"yes."

"good."

you somehow found your way outside, to the garden, you sat on the marble steps. wiping off your tears as they continued to flow.

you see someone sit beside you in your peripheral vision, and you both don't talk for a minute.

"ya shouldn't cry tonight , it might bring bad luck, might curse your marriage." the person next to you spoke and you turn to see her

you recognize the features , you recognize the attitude.

"yeah well, it might as well be cursed." you look back at the beautiful rose garden, thinking maybe the sight of something beautiful will soothe the pain

"what's making ya cry then?" ada lights a cigarette, offering you one. you wave your hand, not wanting one.

"my mother" you say with a sigh, tears blurring the sight before you

"what 'appened ?"

"we had a fight about a stupid necklace" you look down, you see your tears landing on floor "i love 'er , but it's so hard for me to like 'er. it's so hard to just be around 'er"

"does she do this often ? making ya cry?"

"i guess the same way all mothers do" you speak softly, as you look at her

"why are ya letting 'er do that to ya?" she says with a raised brow "tommy says ya got fire in ya"

"well it's 'er fire that lit mine" you chuckle "it feels like i'm so much like 'er and yet we are nothing alike"

"ya 'ave two choices" she exhales the cloud of smoke as she motions with her cigarette "ya either let 'er win, let 'er make ya cry one more time or ya go and enjoy your fucking engagement party that ya spent days planning"

before you get to answer you hear a set of footsteps that are heading towards you, and when you look over your shoulder it's none other than your husband-to-be , standing there , his eyes drifting between you and his sister

you stand, looking at him, and you can't help the tear that runs down your face again

ada looks at the both of you, almost amused at how soft her brother seems, and he looks at her "would ya fucking mind?"

she puts her hands up, surrendering before walking off , still smiling in amusement

"ya can't cry today"

"bad luck aye?"

"that" he nods "and ya'll ruin your fucking makeup."

you chuckle, wiping off your tears "i'm sorry...".

he's never seen you like this, and nothing could've prepared him for how tight his chest would feel when he looked at you and saw those eyes of yours red and wet, your cheeks almost stained with tears and your voice filled with misery

"for what?" he asks softly , his body moves on its own, his thumb wipes away the tears

"for leaving alone with the guests" you sniffle a little bit, "for crying too"

"nothing for ya to apologize for."

you take a deep breath and fix any stray hairs, you smooth down your dress "we should go back" 

"look at me." he puts his hands on your shoulders and speaks with a small smile "say 'i will not let my mummy make me cry tonight' "

you raise a brow "no"

"say it now come on"

"i will not let my mummy make me cry tonight" you give him a tight lipped smile "happy?"

"very." he let's you loop your arms with his as you go back to the party.

the rest of the evening went smoothly , the guests were happy, and you were too. tommy kept your mother away from you. and you didn't even notice. celest laughed and drank with you and your friends, your dad and your brothers were having the time of their lives.

"i want to propose a toast, to the two lovely groom and bride to be. i wish you all the happiness" a guest, you recognized as a business partner of tommy's

you smiled and your champagne flute went up, and so did tommy's. and then your mother got up, holding her own flute , and your smile faltered.

tommy grasped your hand under the table , and you just glanced at him before looking back at your mother

"i want to propose a toast as well," your mother smiled, looking at you. "to my lovely daughter and tommy, i wish you both a happy long life and a bright future, cheers!"

you smiled and sipped your drink, and tommy never took his eyes off your mother

"i think i might just lose my mind and go fight 'er again." you whisper into tommy's ear, your hand on his shoulder, the other hand in his, he holds your waist as you two dance "or stab 'er with a spoon... i don't know."

he chuckled and you glared at him again "i'm glad ya find my misery amusing."

"it's less your misery and more your angry face" he murmured

you scoff and you look away, trying very hard to not smile

"ya look beautiful" his voice wasn't playful, and his eyes were soft on you.

suddenly you were hyperaware of his touch on your waist, his hand gripping yours.

you look at him again,"thank you" your smile gives you away "ya look good too, ya always do"

"i do?" he raised a brow and an amused smirk replaced his smile

"ya don't 'ave a mirror in your mansion?"

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