#dynasty x reader

[aeralux]

"My Sweet Little Niece" - Daemon Targaryen

Summary: You foolishly thought that no one would find you pleasuring yourself in the midnight hours...

Warnings: SMUT; typical targcest (reader is Daemon's niece and it is mentioned a LOT); use of the terms 'uncle' and 'niece' during sex; degradation (slut, whore etc.); light spanking (like one/two spanks); doggy style; quite rough sex (but both like it); breeding kink (Daemon finishes inside reader); dirty talk (use of the words cunt and such)

Notes: Reader is Daemon's niece (Rhaenyra's sister) and has white hair, but nothing else is specified. No specific time frame or mention of marriages/other relationships.

Words: 4.2k

-- aera xx

As Daemon Targaryen paces the cold, stone floors of the council room in Dragonstone, his footsteps echo softly against the walls, a rhythmic cadence that punctuates the heavy silence of the chamber. The room is austere yet grand, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting the sigil of House Targaryen — a three-headed dragon — woven in threads of crimson and gold. Tall windows line one side of the chamber, their panes frosted with a thin layer of ice, allowing slivers of pale winter moonlight to filter into the room and cast ethereal patterns upon the floor.

As Daemon's thoughts whirl in the chill air, his attention is suddenly drawn to quiet sighs and moans from a nearby bedchamber.

The castle was asleep at this hour, and it possibly couldn’t be a maid. Curiousness got the better of Daemon, and he went to investigate against his better judgment.

Once he reached the source of the sound, he smirked to himself. Of course. Who else could it be besides his sweet niece? Acting all innocent and loving before the eyes of the court and making sounds like a whore from the Silk Streets during the night.

He wondered who the lucky man between her plush thighs could be. Was it Aemond, or perhaps Aegon? What if it was Helaena, and this was the only time the two girls could show their desire for one another?

Already starting to walk away, something stopped him. The hardness in his breeches made it uncomfortable to move. He sighed and wiped across his face to compose himself.

Daemon needed to see. He needed to see his niece being pleasured by whoever it was. Be it a knight or a maid. Agonisingly slowly, he pulled open your door. Making sure no sounds betrayed his presence.

At first, you didn’t even notice his intrusion, too lost in the pleasure of two fingers circling your clit and two in your tight hole knuckles deep. But once you heard the familiar creak of the venerable wooden door, its aged hinges announcing a timeless entrance, your head instinctively snapped up. The air around you shifted, thick with expectation.

"Uncle Daemon!" you exclaimed, hastily pulling the sheets up to cover your bare form beneath. "I…I didn't expect you!"

You could feel the heat of embarrassment rising to your cheeks, mixed with a twinge of annoyance at having your private moment interrupted. Your long silver-white hair was tousled against the pillow, strands clinging to your sweat-dampened skin.

"I was just…" you fumbled for an excuse, your voice trailing off lamely. There was no hiding the truth - you had been caught in the throes of self-indulgence, fingers buried knuckle-deep inside your dripping cunny as you imagined being taken roughly by one of the handsome young knights in service to the crown.

Your mind raced as you tried to find the right words to explain yourself, but your tongue felt heavy and clumsy in your mouth. You knew that your actions were scandalous, especially for a highborn lady of House Targaryen, but you couldn't help the thrill of excitement that ran down your spine at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position.

Your fingers were still buried deep inside your sopping wet cunny, the evidence of your shameful desires dripping down your thighs and staining the fine silk sheets beneath you. The air was thick with the musky scent of your arousal, mingling with the faint smell of lavender that clung to your skin from your earlier bath.

Daemon's eyes widened slightly at the sight before him, his gaze flickering over your dishevelled form and the obvious signs of your recent activities. For a moment, he was struck dumb, caught off guard by the raw, primal desire that radiated from his niece's body like a physical force. He could feel his cock stirring to life in his breeches, thickening and hardening as he drank at the sight of you.

But then his training kicked in, and Daemon schooled his features into a mask of stern disapproval. He crossed the room in a few long strides, the heavy tread of his boots muffled by the plush carpet. Leaning down, he grasped your wrist firmly and withdrew your fingers from between your thighs, ignoring the way you gasped at the sudden loss of stimulation.

"Darling," he said, his voice low and cold. "What in the seven hells are you doing, girl? Playing with yourself like some common whore? Is this how you spend your nights, indulging in base carnal desires?"

His grip on your wrist tightened, and he brought your hand up to his face, pressing your fingers against his lips. The taste of your arousal exploded on his tongue, sweet and musky and utterly intoxicating. Daemon's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savouring the flavour of his niece's essence.

"You're a Targaryen," he growled, releasing her wrist and straightening up. "You should know better than to give in to such shameful appetites. Especially not with your uncle standing right outside your door."

Despite his harsh words, there was an undercurrent of something else in Daemon's tone - a dark, simmering heat that belied his stern exterior. He could feel the pulse of his own need, throbbing in his loins and demanding to be satisfied. The sight of you sprawled out across her bed, flushed and wanton and ready to be taken, was almost more than he could bear.

Daemon took a step back, putting some distance between them. He raked a hand through his golden locks, trying to calm his growing hunger for you.

Your heart raced as you watched Daemon lick your essence from his fingers, his eyes closing in bliss as he savoured the taste. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins, and you couldn't help but spread your thighs wider, inviting him to take a closer look at your dripping cunny.

The guilt that churned in your stomach was nothing compared to the raw, primal desire that consumed you. You had done far worse things behind closed doors, indulged in darker, more forbidden pleasures. This was merely a taste of the debauchery that coursed through your veins.

“Daemon," you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Please, don't be angry with me. I… I couldn't help myself. The need was too great, too overwhelming to ignore."

You batted your eyelashes at him, hoping to soften his stern demeanour with an innocent, pleading look. You knew the power of your beauty, the way men were drawn to you like moths to a flame. It was a gift, one you had learned to wield like a weapon.

"You're the only one who truly understands me," you continued, your words dripping with honey.

As you spoke, you reached out with trembling fingers, tracing the hard planes of Daemon's chest through his shirt. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath the fabric, the steady thrum of his heartbeat. It called to you, urging you to press herself against him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you awaited Daemon's response, your dripping sex exposed to his piercing gaze. You could feel the weight of his stare like a physical touch, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. The vulnerability you felt at that moment was both terrifying and exhilarating, a heady mix of fear and desire that made your head spin.

Daemon's eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of your glistening folds, his nostrils flaring as he caught the intoxicating scent of your arousal. He could feel his cock straining against the confines of his breeches, throbbing with the need to bury itself inside your tight, wet heat.

He took a step closer, looming over your prone form on the bed. "You're playing a dangerous game, little one," he growled, his voice low and rough with barely contained lust. "Teasing me like this, exposing yourself to me. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Your breath caught in your throat as Daemon reached out, his fingers grazing along the soft skin of your inner thigh. You could feel the calluses on his hands, the strength in his grasp as he slowly inched higher and higher, until his touch was mere inches away from your aching core.

"I… I wanted you to see," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. Although it wasn’t entirely true, you did still however want him to take you. And with these sweet words, he would cave in no time.

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain control over his raging desires. He knew that what he was about to do was wrong, a betrayal of every moral code. But the temptation was too great to resist, the allure of his niece's forbidden fruit too powerful to deny.

With a low, animalistic growl, Daemon surged forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. He plundered your mouth with his tongue, claiming you, possessing you, marking you as his own. One hand tangled in your long, silver hair, tugging it.

You moaned into the kiss. It was like a siren's call, luring Daemon further into the depths of depravity. With a growl, he allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed, his muscular body covering yours as he claimed your mouth with renewed hunger. His hands roamed over your curves, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh like a man possessed.

Your fingers scrabbled at Daemon's linen shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin. You tugged impatiently at the fabric, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank the garment over his head and toss it aside. Your eyes widened at the sight of his toned chest, marred only by a few silvery scars from battles long past.

"By the gods, Uncle," she gasped, your hands greedily exploring the planes of his back and shoulders. "You're so strong."

Daemon's lips curled into a smirk as he ground his hips against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock straining against the confines of his breeches. "And you, my little girl, are a temptress beyond compare," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "So soft, so ripe, so ready to be plucked."

Your back arched off the bed as Daemon trailed his lips down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above your collarbone. You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, the ache between your thighs growing more intense with each passing second.

"Please, Daemon," you whimpered, your hips rocking against his in a primal rhythm. "I need you, I need to feel you inside me, filling me, claiming me."

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his control hanging by a thread. With a low growl, he captured your lips once more, swallowing your moans as he reached down and tore at the laces of his breeches. His cock sprang free, thick and hard and throbbing with need.

Your eyes widened as you took in the impressive sight of Daemon's manhood, your breath catching in your throat at the sheer size of him. You had always known that your uncle was a proud, confident man, but now you understood the true source of his cockiness. His cock was a work of art, thick and veiny and pulsing with an almost palpable hunger.

Unable to resist, you reached out with a shaking hand, wrapping your fingers around the hot, velvety length. You licked your palm, spitting into it to provide some lubrication as you began to stroke him slowly, marvelling at the weight of him in your grasp.

Daemon let out a low, guttural moan as your hand moved along his shaft, his hips rocking into your touch. "Fuck, that's it," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Stroke me, princess. Show me what that clever little hand can do."

You smiled up at him, your eyes shining with wicked delight. You shimmied closer to him on the bed, watching with rapt attention as Daemon stood before you, his cock extending out obscenely from between his legs.

The blood coursed hot and heavy through Daemon's veins as you worked his shaft, your delicate fingers gliding over his throbbing flesh in a slow, torturous rhythm. He could feel every nerve ending screaming for more, for the tight, wet heat of your cunt wrapped around him.

"You like that, don't you?" You purred, your hand pumping faster, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. "You like feeling my hand on your big, hard cock. I bet you've dreamed of this, of fucking your sweet little niece, filling her up with your seed."

Daemon let out a feral snarl, his hips snapping forward as he fucked your hand, chasing the pleasure that only you could give him. "You have no idea what I've dreamed of," he growled, his eyes burning into yours. "What I've planned, what I'm going to do to this tight little body of yours."

"Mmh, yeah? Why don’t you tell me then?” Your words and actions grew bolder as you saw his reaction to your touch, your arousal gushing out of you at the erotic sight.

Your daring words and bold actions ignited a fire in Daemon's loins that threatened to consume you both. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your grasp as you started to tease the tip with your tongue, your lips forming a tight seal around his engorged head. The sight of his niece's pretty mouth stretched obscenely around his shaft sent a fresh surge of heat straight to his groin.

"Fuck, you filthy little minx," Daemon growled, his fingers tangling in your long silver hair. He tugged at it roughly, forcing you to take more of him into your hot, wet mouth. "You want to know what I'm going to do to you? I'm going to ruin you for any other man. I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll never be able to forget the feel of my cock inside you."

You moaned around his length, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through Daemon's body. You could feel the sticky wetness of her arousal coating your thighs, the musky scent of her desire mingling with the taste of his pre-cum on her tongue.

"Mmmph, yes Uncle Daemon," you slurred, your words muffled by his thick cock filling your mouth. "Ruin me, use me, make me yours. I want to feel you in every inch of me."

"That's it," he growled, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper into your warm mouth, throbbing. "Take it all, baby girl. Take every inch of your uncle's big, hard cock."

You moaned around him, the sound sending shivers down Daemon's spine. You relaxed your throat, allowing him to slide deeper until the head of his cock was bumping against the back of your throat. Your nose nestled in the thick, wiry curls at the base of his shaft, inhaling the musky, masculine scent of him.

"Gods, you're a natural," Daemon praised, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his release. "Such a good little cocksucker, so eager to please your uncle."

Your eyes fluttered closed, lost in the haze of pleasure as you worked Daemon's cock with your mouth and hand. You could feel the heavy weight of it on your tongue, the pulsing heat of it against the roof of your mouth.

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he fought to maintain control. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the urge to bury himself to the hilt in your tight, dripping cunt becoming more and more overwhelming with each passing second.

"Enough," he snarled, yanking you off his cock with a lewd pop. "I can't take it anymore. I need to be inside you, need to feel you wrapped around me like a vice."

With a swift, brutal movement, Daemon flipped you onto your hands and knees, kicking your legs apart to expose the glistening folds of your sex.

The sudden shift in position caused you to let out a surprised yelp. You felt Daemon's strong hands grip your hips, lifting your rear end high in the air. You instinctively arched your back, presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. The cool air of the bedchamber kissed your bare flesh, sending goosebumps racing across your skin.

The depraved display sent a bolt of pure lust through Daemon's veins, his cock twitching with the need to claim you, to make you his in the most primal way possible.

"Gods, you're a vision," Daemon growled appreciatively, his emerald eyes roaming hungrily over your upturned ass and dripping cunny. "So wet and ready for me already."

He gave you a sharp smack on the rump, relishing the way you jolted and let out a gasp. The reddening handprint on your skin looked deliciously obscene.

"That's it, present yourself to your uncle like a good little whore," he commanded, lining up his swollen cockhead with your entrance. "Show me how much you need my cock filling this greedy little cunt."

You moaned wantonly, reaching back with one hand to spread herself open for him. Your puffy folds glistened with arousal, practically begging to be stuffed full. The shame of what you were doing only served to heighten your arousal, the taboo nature of your relationship sending electric thrills down your spine.

"Please, Uncle Daemon," you begged, your voice high and needy. "I need you inside me, stretching me, filling me up. I'll do anything, be anything you want me to be."

Daemon let out a low, appreciative chuckle as he stepped up behind you, his large hands gripping your hips with bruising force. "Anything, hmm? We'll see about that."

Without warning, he slammed his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You screamed in ecstasy, your walls clenching around him like a vice as he filled you.

"Fuck, you're tight," Daemon grunted, his hips snapping against your ass as he set a punishing pace. "So fucking tight and wet for me, baby girl. Your little cunt was made for my cock."

You could only moan in response, your body rocking forward with each powerful thrust of Daemon's hips. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure and Daemon's grunts of exertion.

As Daemon pounded into you, one hand snaked around your waist, his fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubbed it roughly, the calloused pads of his fingers sending jolts of electricity through your body.

A broken sob escaped your lips as you felt his fingers rub tight circles around your swollen clit. Hips jerking from the stimulation.

"There she goes," Daemon growled, his fingers working your clit with merciless precision. "My sweet little niece, so responsive, so desperate for her uncle's touch."

You could only moan in response, your head hanging down, your long silver hair cascading over your shoulders. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling filled the room, a lewd symphony of flesh slapping against flesh and the squelch of your dripping arousal.

You shivered at his praise, your body still humming with pleasure. Despite the shame that threatened to overwhelm you, you couldn't deny how much you had enjoyed being used so thoroughly.

Daemon angled his hips, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each powerful thrust. He could feel your velvety walls rippling around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

As he looked down he could see a ring of white cream coating the base of his cock, your arousal so evident. He smirked to himself and sped up his pace, fucking you almost brutally.

Daemon's brutal pace showed no signs of slowing, his hips pistoning in and out of your tight heat with relentless force. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed off the stone walls, mingling with your wanton moans and whimpers.

"Look at you," Daemon growled, his voice rough with lust. "My sweet little niece reduced to a mewling, cock-hungry slut. You love this, don't you? Love being used like a cheap whore, love having your uncle's cock stuffing your needy cunt."

You couldn't deny it, not with the way your body was responding to his harsh words and even harsher thrusts. Your back arched, pushing your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust, your nails digging into the fine linens beneath you.

Daemon's hand left your clit, moving up to fist a handful of your long silver hair. He yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him over your shoulder. His eyes were wild, burning with a primal hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

"Who does this cunt belong to?" he snarled, his voice a dark promise. "Who owns your pretty little body, baby girl?"

"You do," you gasped out, the words spilling from your lips unbidden. "It's all yours, Uncle Daemon. I'm yours."

"Damn right, you are," Daemon growled, releasing his grip on your hair to wrap his arms around your waist. He pushed you down onto your stomach and lifted your hips, shifting the angle of his thrusts to strike even deeper, harder, faster.

The new position had you seeing stars, your cries of pleasure resonating off the stone walls. Each thrust sent ripples of ecstasy through your body, your muscles clenching around him like a vice.

"Say it again," Daemon demanded, his voice strained. "Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"You," you sobbed, your voice high and breathy. "It's yours, Daemon. All yours."

"That's right, baby girl," Daemon growled, his hips slamming into you with renewed vigour.

Your body was trembling beneath him on the silky sheets of your bed. Your tight hole spasming around Daemon's big cock, creaming all over his length. Like a bitch in heat you screamed in pleasure below him, cunt gripping him in a vice.

Daemon's grip tightened on your hips as he drove into you with pure animalistic lust, your cries of pleasure mixing with his grunts of exertion. Bed creaking beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each violent thrust. The feeling of your tight, dripping cunt spasming around him was almost too much to bear. Daemon could feel his release barreling towards him like a freight train, his balls drawing up tight against his body. The filthy sounds of your cries and the obscene squelch of your arousal filling the room only served to heighten his lust.

"That's it, princess," Daemon growled, his hand coming down on your ass in a sharp smack. "Take it all, take every inch of your uncle's big, hard cock."

You moaned wantonly, your hips bucking as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you. Your juices coated his shaft, easing the way as he pounded into you relentlessly.

"Uncle Daemon," you gasped, your voice strained with pleasure. "It's so good, so deep. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Daemon grinned savagely, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigour. He could feel the tension building in his lower belly, the tell-tale tingle in his spine that signalled his impending release.

"Oh, Gods! I'm gonna cum!" You managed to squeal into the sheets, tears starting to stream down your face from the intensity of his thrusts.

"Aw, fuck yes, you are," Daemon growled, his voice a dark promise. "Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over your uncle's big, hard cock."

His hips snapped forward, driving his cock deep into your convulsing channel. Your cries of ecstasy filled the room, your body shaking with the force of your release.

You could feel your juices squirting out around Daemon's shaft, your inner muscles clenching and fluttering as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. It seemed to go on forever, your vision blurring at the edges, your mind numb from the sheer intensity of it all.

Daemon held you close, his arms wrapping around your trembling form as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your pleasure. His release was fast approaching, his balls drawing up tight against his body.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice strained. "Gonna fill you up, gonna pump you full of my seed. Gonna make you mine in every fucking way."

With a final, brutal thrust, Daemon buried himself to the hilt inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilt his hot seed deep within your womb. You could feel it, the way his thick, potent cum coated your inner walls, marking you as his.

As you both came down from your high, Daemon pulled out of you with a lewd pop. He flopped down onto the bed beside you, gathering you into his arms and pulling you close.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat as you basked in the afterglow. Despite the taboo nature of your relationship, there was a rightness to being here with Daemon, a sense of belonging that you had never felt with anyone else.

[edenesth]

Scarlet Requiem

Pairing: emperor!Baekhyun x empress!reader

AU: historical au (Goryeo era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: In his reign, Baekhyun strived to be a virtuous emperor, all for the sake of his kind-hearted empress, steadfastly resisting the temptations of power that had corrupted those before him. He held onto the belief that this was the key to securing her eternal presence by his side. Yet, he learned, to his heartbreak, that this very resolve would lead to the cruellest loss of all.

Genre: heavy angst

Trigger Warnings: major character death, violence, gore, lots of blood

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Capture that demon before she flees!"

Her hands trembled as she gazed at her reflection in the ornate gold mirror. Once healthy skin now bore a sickly pallor, brown eyes turned crimson, tears staining her cheeks red. Even her jet-black hair had transformed to snowy white. Confusion and fear gripped her as she struggled to comprehend the inexplicable transformation.

As guards roughly seized her arms, she pleaded, "No, please! I've done nothing wrong! I don't understand any of this!"

"Of course, you'd deny it, Your Imperial Majesty," sneered the Minister of Rites, one of many who had urged her husband, the emperor, to accept their daughters as concubines. "Little did you know, those potions you received from the royal healer for the past month were meant to reveal your true nature by shedding your human guise."

Horror pierced her heart as realisation dawned. The tonics meant to maintain her health had been a ruse. She had been poisoned, it explained the sudden and alarming changes in her body and health.

"You," she whispered, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon her. "It was all you."

She was not naive; she understood the ministers' discontent with her influence over Baekhyun throughout his reign. Their persistent attempts to sway him, offering their daughters as concubines to bolster their own power and threaten her position, had not escaped her notice. Their frustration must have reached its zenith when her husband adamantly refused their advances, steadfast in his commitment to her as his one and only empress.

"Hm? I'm not sure I understand what you're implying," the man smirked, his deceptive tone belying his words. "We've long suspected there was more to you, Your Imperial Majesty. It appears you're indeed a demon, effortlessly manipulating the emperor. Surely a man of his stature would desire more than one woman by his side?"

Struggling against the guards' grasp, she retorted weakly, "You vile cowards. You'll rue the day my husband learns of this..."

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, revealing their sinister plot. They had bided their time, seizing the perfect opportunity amidst the chaos of war. With Baekhyun, the virtuous emperor she had wished him to be, leading the army, they saw their chance to poison her, framing her as a demon to eradicate her while he was away.

"Or perhaps we'll witness the rise of the ambitious emperor we've long awaited. He will finally be able to reach his full potential without you here obstructing his path," he sneered, gesturing towards the approaching healer with another bowl of poison. "Just comply and drink your tonic, Your Imperial Majesty. Your suffering will soon end, and our nation will thrive under the rule of a new emperor, liberated from your naive ideals."

As the sinister men tightened their grip, she sobbed in agony, the relentless headache from the past month resurfacing with a vengeance. Each touch felt like a dagger through her skull, each word a cruel reminder of her plight.

With an apologetic bow of his head, the healer cupped her jaw, his hands trembling as he forced the bowl of poison towards her lips. "Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty," he whispered, his voice trembling with remorse. "This will be the last one, I promise."

She gagged as the bitter liquid slid down her throat, burning with each swallow. Crimson tears streamed down her white face as she choked on the vile concoction, feeling her strength wane with each passing moment. In that desperate moment, all she could do was pray for salvation from the nightmare consuming her.

As the healer finally released his hold, she felt despair engulf her. The bitter poison settled within her damaged insides, coursing through her veins like a silent killer, slowly consuming her from within.

"It is done, my lord. The empress will not survive through the night," the healer declared, his voice carrying a finality that chilled her to the bone.

The minister's grin widened with satisfaction. "Excellent. Arrange for someone to confirm her death by dawn. Let her enjoy her final moments in the comforts of her own chambers. His Imperial Majesty will surely be grateful we've rid him of his treacherous demon of a wife upon his return from war."

Laying limply in the centre of her grand chambers, the very space she had once despised before ascending to empress, memories flooded her mind. She recalled the scepticism that clouded her heart when she first found herself falling for the crown prince of the nation. After all, history had taught her that no happy endings awaited the women who loved emperors. But Baekhyun was different—he was loving, caring, and considerate, going to great lengths to prove his devotion to her.

He swore never to take concubines, to resist the allure of power, and to remain hers, and hers alone. Despite the admiration of the entire nation, he remained committed to prioritising her above all else, even if it meant drawing the ire of his ministers and officials. Their accusations of his partiality towards his empress over his nation only served to strengthen his resolve, his unwavering loyalty to her.

But now, as she lay weakened by poison, she realised the tragic irony of his goodness. It was his very commitment to righteousness that led him to the battlefield, refusing to let his men fight in his stead. And it was this decision that ultimately sealed their fate, leaving her to face the consequences of his noble intentions.

As the darkness closed in around her, she couldn't help but wonder how Baekhyun would react upon returning to find her lifeless form in this state. Would he succumb to the poisonous words of his ministers, believing their accusations that she had been a demon all along? Would he entertain the notion that she had bewitched him, clouding his judgement and leading him astray?

Or would he remain firm in his loyalty, unwavering in his belief that this was nothing more than a cruel ploy to rid him of her for good? In the depths of her fading consciousness, she desperately clung to the hope that he would see through the lies, that his love for her would prevail over doubt.

On the brink of death, she yearned to trust in his endless devotion to her, to believe that he would never doubt the love they shared. It was a fragile hope, but in that moment, it was all she had to cling to as she slipped further into the darkness, awaiting the inevitable arrival of dawn and the fate it would eventually bring.

"Forgive me for not being strong enough, Baek," she whispered into the stillness of the chamber, her voice barely a breath against the heavy silence. "Please don't blame yourself for any of this."

As the darkness threatened to swallow her entirely, she couldn't help but reflect on the warnings of history, the cautionary tales of women who loved emperors, only to meet tragic ends. Once again, it seemed, she had fallen victim to the same fate.

Her vision blurred with crimson tears as memories flooded her mind—moments shared with Baekhyun before he departed for battle, blissfully unaware that they would be their last. Each memory stung with bittersweet intensity, a painful reminder of what could have been, had fate been kinder.

As her life ebbed away, flashes of cherished moments with him flickered through her mind like scattered stars in the night sky.

Wrapped in the warmth of silk sheets, doubts clouded her mind one morning, questioning her husband's resolve to remain faithful amidst the pressures of his position.

"Would you truly refuse to take any concubines, Baek?" she inquired, her voice laced with uncertainty. "You're aware that the ministers and officials desire it, and perhaps even the citizens of our nation. For all we know, the people might have grown weary of this same dull empress who has yet to bear you an heir."

He drew her close, pulling the silk sheets higher to shield her bare form from the chill seeping through the open windows. Pressing a tender kiss upon her head, he smiled reassuringly. "Never, my love. I do not care for their political machinations. I won't forsake my vow to you. You will remain my only wife, that is final. I did not ask to be emperor, the role was thrust upon me. Now that I am here, they should at least be grateful I am fulfilling my general duties."

She chuckled, nestling into the crook of his neck as he added, "Besides, if the ministers and officials are so displeased, they could just dismiss me. That would be even better; we could live in a quiet little village, just as we've always dreamed."

In another memory, standing before her reflection, plagued by insecurities instilled by the scheming ministers, his unwavering admiration melted her fears away.

"You look beautiful, my empress. You always do," he reassured, approaching from behind to envelop her in his arms.

"Not as beautiful as those young maidens, I fear. I am old," she confessed, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness after witnessing the ministers' attempts to seduce the emperor with their daughters.

Baekhyun gently turned her to face him. "If you're old, then I must be ancient," he teased. "I believe it's only fitting that I am with someone my age, and that's you, my empress. I have no interest in marrying children or anyone else for that matter; I am a taken man. Don't you dare compare yourself to anyone else again, you hear me? You're the most beautiful woman in my eyes, and that's all that matters."

In the final embrace before he departed for war, hearts heavy with the uncertainty of his return, they clung to each other.

"I will be back before you know it, my love. You'll wait for me, won't you?" her husband murmured against her neck, his arms tightening around her.

"Where else would I go, you idiot? Of course, I'll be waiting right here," she retorted, tightening her hold around his shoulders.

Amidst tears and laughter, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, pressing his lips against her soft ones over and over again to imprint the sensation into memory.

"I love you, my empress," Baekhyun whispered against her lips before pulling away, his eyes full of love and determination.

In the quiet of her chamber, she found solace in the fleeting recollections, clinging to them as the darkness threatened to consume her entirely. And as the crimson tears clouded her eyes once more, she resigned herself to the inevitable, silently bidding farewell to the life she once knew.

"I love you too, my emperor."

"I will not ask again, where is she?!" the emperor's voice thundered through the throne room as he stormed back into the palace, abandoning the battle upon learning the shocking revelation. According to the Minister of Rites in his letter, the empress had been discovered to be a demon all along, concealing her true nature under human skin to manipulate him and bend him to her will.

The eunuch panicked and fell to his knees. "Th-the empress is confined to her grand chambers, Your Imperial Majesty!"

Without uttering another word, Baekhyun stormed over immediately, his heart thumping loudly against his chest as fury overtook his being. Betrayal flooded his veins; he was seething with anger.

"You will regret lying to me," he growled under his breath, his vision zeroing in on the path towards her chambers, the place he frequented more than his own. "You will regret deceiving me."

Upon reaching the entrance of her chambers, he turned to the eunuch. "Gather all the ministers and officials who played a part in discovering the empress as what they claimed her to be in the throne room. I wish to speak with them soon."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," the eunuch hurriedly replied before darting off to carry out his orders. Baekhyun steadied his breaths, his hand resting on the door as he prepared to face her once more. Under his breath, he vowed, "I swear, you will all regret it. How dare you accuse my wife of being what you are—demons."

I'm here now, my love.

Stepping into the familiar room, the emperor's heart raced with anxiety as he mulled over a perfect apology. He needed to express his deep remorse for not being there when she needed him the most, for failing to shield her from the treachery of those vultures. Reflecting on his actions, he realised he should have never left her behind. In his rush to leave for war, he had neglected to arrange proper protection for her. In hindsight, he understood that he should have never left her side in the first place.

Determined to make amends, he vowed to do better. He resolved to never again allow those ministers or officials the opportunity to torment her in his absence again. From now on, he would be her shield, her staunch protector, and her unending support.

But it might be too late for any of that.

His steps faltered, his breath caught in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he beheld the sight before his eyes. The sword in his hands slipped, clanging loudly as it hit the ground, and he sank to his knees in disbelief at the last thing he expected to see.

His shock deepened as he took in his wife's unrecognisable appearance. Crawling towards her limp form on the ground, he pulled her into his arms, his voice trembling with anguish. The horror settled within him like a heavy weight as he tried to imagine what atrocities these monsters had dared inflict upon her while he was gone. His mind raced with images of torture and torment, each one more gruesome than the last.

"Oh god, what have they done to you?" he whispered, his heart fracturing into a million shards as he struggled to comprehend her pale skin, her white hair, and the blood-like tears staining her cheeks. With shaking hands, he gently cupped her cold cheek, his fingers tracing the contours of her face as if seeking reassurance that she was still there, still his beloved wife.

"Please wake up, my love. This isn't funny, stop scaring me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You promised to wait for me. You promised..." His words trailed off into a broken sob as he refused to accept anything but the truth, shaking his head in denial even as he searched desperately for a pulse, even when she remained unresponsive.

"No, no, no... this can't be real. It can't be," he murmured, his mind reeling with the unimaginable horror of what he had found.

Despair and regret enveloped him as he sobbed painfully, holding her lifeless body tightly against his chest. The realisation that she was truly gone, that her final moments were spent alone in the very room she despised just to be with him, weighed heavily on his heart. He grappled with the bitter truth that he had failed her, just as she had feared when she hesitated to be with him.

Gradually, his sorrow gave way to seething rage as he recalled the faces of the ministers and officials responsible for this atrocity. They had callously taken her life, foolishly believing he would be deceived by their feeble attempt to frame her. With trembling hands, he picked up a shard of the shattered bowl nearby and brought it to his nose, recognising the metallic scent of mercury.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

They had poisoned her with lethal doses of mercury, causing a myriad of symptoms—tremors, headaches, muscle weakness, kidney damage, and breathing difficulties. And the deliberate administration of such high doses to turn her hair white revealed their sinister intent from the outset.

Just how much had they fed her? It was evident they had intended to kill her from the start. Anguish and fury surged within him as he vowed to make them pay.

Gently caressing her cold cheek, he leaned in to kiss her unmoving lips, his own trembling against hers. He blamed himself for everything that had transpired. Perhaps if she hadn't been with him, she would have lived a better life—a normal life with a normal man. She wouldn't have to endure such a painful and cruel death.

It was all because of him.

Regret hung heavy in his heart, but dwelling on what could have been served no purpose.

"I'm so sorry, my wife," he whispered, his voice thick with grief. "Just hold on a bit longer, alright? I'll join you soon, but first, I'll make those bastards pay. Wait for me—I won't let you face this alone. Not again."

With resolve hardening in his heart, he retrieved his sword and sheathed it once more before lifting her lifeless form into his arms. Like a man burdened by death itself, he trudged towards the throne room where justice awaited. Kicking the doors open with a forceful thrust of his leg, he was met with a sea of horrified expressions from the ministers and officials. Clearly, they hadn't anticipated the emperor's dramatic entrance, cradling his beloved empress in his arms.

Ignoring their shocked gazes, he strode past them, his eyes fixed on the throne at the far end of the room. With careful tenderness, he laid his wife down upon the ornate seat, arranging her robes and ensuring her comfort as though she were merely sleeping. Pressing a solemn kiss upon her cold forehead, he turned to face the assembled council, their unease palpable in the air.

The guilty culprits remained frozen in their places, uncertain of what awaited them.

As the emperor's gaze swept over them, the ministers and officials for the first time felt a cold shiver of fear trickle down their spines. His expression was unreadable, his appearance wild and dishevelled compared to his usual polished demeanour. Specks of blood and dirt stained his robes and skin, his hair a tangled mess, half tied up in a disarray that mirrored the chaos within him.

Gone was the warm smile that often graced his features; instead, a slow, unsettling grin crept across his face.

"My dearest ministers and officials," he began, his voice low and laced with an eerie calmness. "Your message has been received loud and clear. I hope you're satisfied now that you've succeeded in eradicating the empress, as you so desperately desired. I've given it some thought, and perhaps... you were all right."

The Minister of Rites, attempting to feign nonchalance, cleared his throat. "A-about what, Your Imperial Majesty?" he stammered.

Baekhyun's eyes gleamed with a frightening intensity as he smirked, his demeanour bordering on madness. "About what this nation truly needs," he replied, his voice carrying a chilling edge.

"Not a good emperor, but a mad one."

Without giving the men before him time to register his words, all Baekhyun saw was red. In a split second, he unsheathed his sword and transformed into a bloodthirsty animal, cutting down anyone and everyone in his path. The Minister of Rites tried to flee but to no avail. He watched in complete horror as his colleagues dropped dead one by one, their blood splattering over the grand walls of the throne room, their screams echoing.

The emperor went on a rampage, leaving no man behind. The Minister of Rites, who had been behind the idea of poisoning the empress, smearing her name by labelling her a demon, and executing her, was now filled with regret. They had turned him into the mad king his empress had feared. Perhaps they had finally achieved their goal, but it wasn't what they were prepared for.

The minister collapsed to his knees before the emperor, realising that His Imperial Majesty had saved him for last. Trembling, he rubbed his hands together in a desperate plea. "P-please, everything I've done, it's for the betterment of our nation."

Baekhyun's humourless laughter echoed through the hall, sending shivers down the minister's spine. "You truly believe that, don't you? Of course, that includes subjecting my wife to all that torment. Yes, because that is exactly what the nation needs. Unfortunately for you, I am the emperor, and I determine what's best for the nation. And in this case, I think it's better off without traitors like you. See you on the other side," were the last words the minister heard before his head was severed from his neck, rolling off to join the others on the floor.

The emperor finally turned back, his eyes softening as they landed on his beloved's lifeless body. Making his way back towards her, he knelt down beside her, tears streaming down his face as he reached for her hand. Holding it to his cheek, he missed the warmth it once had.

"I'm coming now, my love," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry you had to wait for so long. I'll be there with you soon."

"Yes, I understand His Imperial Majesty's orders not to enter, but it's been hours. Surely, any assembly would have concluded by now, wouldn't it?" With apprehension and curiosity, a senior court lady pushed open the doors to the once-bustling throne room, expecting to find His Imperial Majesty and his council of ministers. Instead, she was met with a horrifying sight—a scene of bloodshed and chaos spread across the grand hall.

Her piercing scream echoed through the silent room, jolting nearby palace staff into action. Rushing to the scene, they were met with a scene that chilled them to the bone. At the end of the room, amidst a sea of lifeless bodies, lay the empress on the throne, her appearance shocking all who beheld it. Beside her, her husband remained, his head cradled on her chest, their hands tightly clasped together. A gaping stab wound marred his chest—it seemed he had taken his own life before joining her in death.

Following that, the next prince in line promptly ascended the throne and found himself compelled to appoint an entirely new cabinet of ministers and officials. The entire nation descended into chaos, particularly since it was still embroiled in a war, with endless theories circulating about the events. While some speculated that the emperor succumbed to madness and killed his own council, others whispered of a conspiracy, suggesting that the ministers had orchestrated the demise of both the empress and the emperor.

Amidst this uncertainty, the new prince faced the daunting challenge of restoring order to the kingdom. With a heavy heart, he pledged to uncover the truth behind the tragic occurrences and ensure that justice was served to those responsible.

In the end, the truth of what truly occurred remained shrouded in mystery. All those involved had departed from the realm of the living. As centuries passed, that chapter in history became known as the Scarlet Requiem, a haunting tale that lingered in the collective memory of the kingdom. Despite countless efforts to unravel the enigma, the events surrounding the tragedy remained obscured by the sands of time, leaving future generations to ponder and speculate about the dark secrets of the past.

"What do you think really happened?" a woman asked her boyfriend as they studied a painting depicting the throne room scene in a museum dedicated to the events of the Scarlet Requiem.

He pondered for a moment before responding with a shrug. "It's hard to say. But judging by the way he's holding onto her, it seems he must have truly loved her. Let's hope they've found peace and happiness, whether in the afterlife or their next life."

She nodded in agreement, leaning into his comforting embrace. "Yeah, I hope so too."

He flashed a mischievous grin. "I'm just saying, if I were him, I wouldn't have left her for war in the first place."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful smack, though a smile danced on her lips. "I'm sure you wouldn't. I bet it's because the empress was described as beautiful as a celestial being."

He scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me how pretty she was. I'll stay only if you're my empress."

Unbeknownst to them, the couple had been contemplating their own past lives. Perhaps the emperor and empress had indeed found each other again in another existence.

Believe it or not, this has been on my mind for months ever since seeing those AI-generated photos of Baekhyun. I had an epiphany while looking at them again yesterday and just had to write this. It's my first EXO fic, and I hope it's decent hehe~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[bronze-vermithor]

Isolation

aemond/lyseni!reader

Summary: Aemond married a Lyseni noblewoman who refused to learn the common tongue, believing the language was beneath her. She grows lonely having no one other than Aemond to speak to, but Aemond prefers it that way.

warnings: aemond being very possessive over his wife, reader is described as having valyrian features

The Red Keep felt like a prison to her. A grand one, yes, with its towering walls and lavish halls, but she thought it ugly and a prison all the same. No matter how many furs were laid across her bed or fires stoked in the hearth, King’s Landing always felt so cold to her despite not even being a cold city. She longed for the warmth of Lys, the city of her birth, where her father’s home sat near the water and the sun kissed the shimmery blue sea and the air was always filled with the sweet scent of flowers. Here, in this foreign land, she was always cold.

But worse than the cold was the silence.

It wasn’t as though the Red Keep was ever truly quiet. Servants bustled in and out, their voices echoing off the stone walls. The lords and ladies of court whispered, laughed, and gossiped in the corridors, their words bouncing around her like pebbles in a river. But none of it mattered. None of it made any sense to her. They spoke the common tongue - a rough, clumsy language she despised and stubbornly refused to learn. Why should she? She didn’t even want to be here. She wasn’t Westerosi. She wasn’t one of them.

Her husband, Aemond, had never asked her to learn it despite his mother’s insistence that she should. In fact, he had seemed pleased when she showed no interest in the language. "Why would you want to debase yourself with their language?," he had asked her once, his lips curling into that sharp smile she had come to know so well. "Let them learn yours. You are above them."

She had clung to that sentiment in the beginning. High Valyrian was her birthright, the language of her ancestors. It was what she had spoken since she could talk, the only one that felt right in her mouth. And High Valyrian was the only language Aemond spoke to her in, his words soft and lilting as they spoke to each other, when they were alone in their chambers. When he spoke, the harshness of Westeros melted away, and for a time, she could pretend she wasn’t trapped in this unpleasant, drab world.

But Aemond wasn’t always there.

He had his duties at court, his responsibilities as a prince of the realm. He could not be by her side every moment of every day, no matter how much she wished he could. And so, she spent her days alone, usually wandering the halls of the Red Keep, always unable to communicate with anyone around her. 

At first, she had found a twisted kind of solace in her self-imposed isolation. It made her feel rare, untouchable. At first, the nobles at court watched her from a distance, fascinated by the foreign noble lady who graced their halls. She felt like something exotic, beyond their reach, and she relished the way their eyes followed her as she walked through the corridors of the Red Keep. But even the admiration of strangers could not fill the void that began to fester inside her.

The servants would bow and murmur words she didn’t understand. The ladies at court would nod politely, their eyes filled with curiosity or disdain. She had no friends here, no one she could speak to, no one who understood her. She hadn’t brought any handmaidens from Lys, her father hadn’t allowed her to, he believed she should fully integrate herself into Westerosi society. The handmaidens given to her here only spoke the common tongue. She often caught them whispering and laughing among themselves, glancing at her with a mixture of curiosity and pity. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was always the subject of their gossip.

She had few interactions with Aemond’s mother. The pious queen seemed uncomfortable with her, disliking almost everything about her. The queen did not like her Lysene way of dressing, her worship of Lysene deities over the Faith of the Seven, her refusal to learn the common tongue. They did not need to speak the same language for her to recognize Queen Alicent’s quiet disdain for her every time they saw each other. Alicent had fully expected her to convert to all things Westeros and she would not do it. Despite being born into a wealthy family with a magister father, the queen seemed to believe her to be naturally corrupted just from being born in Lys, a city known for its pleasure houses.

It had all started to make her feel alone, truly alone, in a way she had never felt before.

The loneliness would even drive her to attempt conversation sometimes with Queen Alicent, a woman she usually tried to avoid, but her clumsy words in broken common tongue only led to awkwardness and frustration. 

She only ever felt truly comfortable when she was with Aemond. When he was with her, the world seemed smaller, less overwhelming. She could almost forget this horrid, dull place she was in. His presence and his touch filled the emptiness that gnawed at her heart. He would pull her close, his hands trailing over her skin as he whispered sweet words in High Valyrian, his breath hot against her ear. "Sȳz iksis ao ūndengī ñuha dōna riña," he would murmur. "It is good you remain my sweet girl."

His possessiveness was palpable, a dark fire that burned beneath his gentle words. It was as if he feared that if she ever learned more of the world beyond him, she might slip away. And in those moments, she let herself believe that his love was enough to sustain her.

When she wasn’t with her husband, she spent hours in the gardens. Her father had sent her seeds of Lyseni flowers and she was allowed to have them planted. Their bright colors and sweet scents a reminder of home. It was one of the very few places in the Red Keep where she felt even a little bit like herself. But even there, the loneliness followed her, a heavy weight in her chest that never seemed to lift.

One evening, as the sun set over the Blackwater, casting long shadows across the garden, she sat by the window, staring out at the water. Aemond had been gone all day, summoned to some council meeting or another. He had promised to return before supper, but the sun was already sinking below the horizon, and still, he hadn’t come.

Her fingers tightened around the goblet of wine in her hand as she watched the last light fade from the sky. The cold was creeping in again, settling into her bones, and she pulled the heavy fur tighter around her shoulders, though it did little to warm her. She didn’t belong here. She never had.

When Aemond finally returned, it was well past dark. She heard his boots on the stone floor long before she saw him, the steady rhythm of his steps unmistakable. He strode into the room, his face as unreadable as always. His stride was quick, purposeful. He found her sitting alone, her silver hair catching the dying light, her lavender eyes distant.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys,” Aemond greeted her, a playful edge to his voice as he called her his beloved wife.

"You're late," she said, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice.

Aemond raised an eyebrow as he approached her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Missed me, have you?"

She didn’t answer, turning her gaze back to the window. She heard him settle into the chair beside her, his presence filling the room, as it always did. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them.

“Aemond,” she began softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “It’s lonely here.”

Aemond, lounging in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on her face, tilted his head slightly. “Lonely?” he echoed, his tone neutral but edged with something darker.

“I can’t speak to anyone,” she continued, her hands nervously twisting in her lap. “I can’t understand anyone, and they can’t understand me.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, his grip on the arm of his chair tightening. Aemond didn’t respond immediately. She felt his gaze on her, sharp and assessing, as if he were trying to read her thoughts. “Why would you want to speak to anyone else?” he asked, his voice low and controlled. “You have me.”

"But you’re not always here," she replied, turning to face him. "And when you’re not, it’s… unbearable."

His expression darkened, and for a moment, she thought she had angered him. But when he spoke again, his voice was soft, almost tender. "You’re not truly alone. You’ll never be alone, not as long as I’m here."

His hand found hers, his fingers wrapping around hers with a firmness that was both reassuring and possessive. She knew how much he hated the thought of her feeling isolated, but there was a part of him that relished it too. He liked knowing that she needed him, that he was the only one who could reach her, who could understand her.

"I know," she said, her voice faltering. "But sometimes, I just… I want to speak to someone else. Anyone else. Just for a little while."

Aemond’s grip tightened, and she saw the flicker of anger in his eye. "They are all beneath you," he said, his tone hardening. "You don’t need to stoop to their level. You don’t need their words."

She sighed, her heart sinking. She knew he wouldn’t understand. Aemond saw the world in absolutes. There were those who mattered, and those who didn’t. And to him, no one outside of their little bubble mattered. Not the courtiers, not the servants, not even his own family.

She was torn between the desire for something more and the pride that had kept her isolated for so long. Aemond filled the silence with his devotion, his love wrapping around her like a protective shroud. Yet in the quiet moments, when he was gone, the world seemed vast and empty.

"I just… I don’t know how much longer I can do this," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Aemond’s expression softened, his fingers loosening their grip on her hand. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You’re stronger than you think," he said quietly. "And you have me. That’s all you need."

For a moment, she wanted to argue, to tell him that she was human, that she needed more than just him. But when she looked into his eye, saw the fierce possessiveness burning there, she knew that any attempt to reach beyond him would only lead to anger. 

So she closed her eyes instead and leaned into his touch, wishing she could believe him. Wishing it was enough. But as the silence closed in around them once more, deep inside, where even Aemond’s love could not reach, a quiet rebellion had begun to stir.

And she didn’t know how to stop it.

Author's Note: Larra Rogare was my inspiration for Lyseni!reader. I do not include why Aemond and Lyseni!reader were married but it can be assumed it was a political alliance. Aemond and Lyseni!reader's conversations are mostly written in English because I was not about to translate everything into High Valyrian but just imagine that is what they're speaking. I only include a couple sentences in High Valyrian and I'm hoping I translated them correctly because I'm paranoid that I did not. I also use the words "Lyseni" and "Lysene" interchangeably at some points because my brain was getting overworked while writing this fic and I didn't feel like figuring out if I was using either word in the correct context lol.

I had written like 5 different drafts of this fic and all versions were similar but different in their own ways and I decided to try and combine them together so hopefully this fic does not read like a mess because of that. I want to write more Lyseni!reader in the future but I'm not sure if it will be the same one from this fic or not. I have ideas for Aegon II and a Lyseni!reader. My super long author's note is over now <3

[stsgluver]

synopsis. zenin naoya and his lack of respect for women. [part of the dynasty series]

wc. 970

tags/warnings. rich boy!gojo, idk what else, zenin naoya exists, established relationship

a/n. i switch between present and past (like five mins prior) throughout BUT IF IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE PLS LET ME KNOW. this has been sat in drafts for 2 months.

“i wouldn’t have stopped you from punching him.”

gojo scoffed, pushing his hands through his hair frustratedly. the two of you sat together on the cold stone steps outside of some large historic building. 

“i don’t think i would’ve stopped,” he let out a ragged breath and you rested one of your hands on his knee. his fingers naturally came to intertwine with yours and you think you saw his shoulders relax ever so slightly at the contact.

a silence settled between you, but it wasn't an awkward one. your boyfriend was reliving the last hour and you were doing your best to try and forget it.

“is he always like that?” you asked quietly. the he in question being zen’in naoya. 

this was the first event that you had attended with gojo, and the first event gojo had ever attended with an actual date. he’d always turned down all of the girls his father offered to him (the children of other tech ceo’s that his father was encouraging him to get close to only for the benefit of his own bank account) and he’d never had a real girlfriend to bring prior to you.

“unfortunately,” he hummed quietly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles lightly. you shivered from the cool breeze and dared to shuffle closer to him. 

you’d experienced many sides of gojo since you’d begun your relationship, but never had you seen him so irritated that he couldn’t verbally communicate it. he was the one who annoyed people to the brink of insanity, with his cocky remarks and over-the-top, excitable behaviour. few people had ever tried to one up him, and even fewer were successful in managing to get under his skin.

zenin naoya, though, loved the challenge.

“do you think your dad will mind if we’re out here?” you asked tentatively. gojo’s hand reflexively tightened briefly around yours at the mention of his father, his jaw clenching. 

several minutes after gojo had led you inside the elegant infrastructure (to say you were getting imposter syndrome was an understatement), he’d left you by a confectionery stand in search of geto. according to him, you looked ‘too pretty’ and he didn’t want your dress to be ruined in the crowds. in other words, the less you mingled, the less likely you’d be harassed by his father’s rich peers – he’d already ‘accidentally’ knocked one drink over onto a woman who dared to hiss the word ‘gold digger’ under her breath as you passed.

it had to have been less than thirty seconds before the zenin appeared by your side, a sickening smirk on his twisted face. you knew who he was, you’d seen him once or twice around campus and you’d heard the stories, but you’d never been this close to him; not close enough to breath in the expensive cologne that smellt cheap.

“probably,” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head back to look up at the night sky.  “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have brought you here.”

you nudged his shoulder gently, “i wanted to come.”

a mistake on both of your behalf – though neither of you could have predicted that naoya would try and make a scene when you rejected his advances.

"you two alright?" 

both of you turned your heads back to see geto coming down the stairs towards you with a little skip in his step.

once naoya had your attention he wasted no time getting to his point – bigging up his status and telling you how gojo’s dad was doubting gojo’s position in the company. if you wanted a real man, in his words, you needed him. 

obviously, you’d given him a disgusted look without much thought and denied the offer, taking a step back to try and find your tall, white haired boyfriend in the crowd (an oddly difficult task). you figured you were safer weaving through a crowd of high society snobs than you were spending another minute here. naoya, though, was persistent and didn’t hesitate to pull you back towards him with a harsh grip.

"just trying not to bash that zen'in's skull in," gojo muttered as he gently traced the red marks on your wrist. it looked worse than it felt – the pain had dissipated pretty quickly once you’d broken from naoya’s hold.

"i could get on board with that," the dark haired male dropped down next to you on the stairs, stretching out his legs and smoothing down his pants.

"geto.” 

you figured out pretty quickly that gojo and geto were a package deal. best friends since diapers and equally as resentful to their parents’ ways of life and the pretence they’ve been raised in. two sides of the same coin, both of which willing to go extraordinary lengths for the other with no regard for consequences.

such as the jail time that would come with the aggravated assault of naoya.

though you would give it to geto – when gojo and him got to you and naoya, it was him who was ushering gojo to just take you outside, not to engage with the spoiled man child. 

“geto,” geto mocked you with a grin, shrugging carelessly, "the kid’s an ass. he’s got it coming."

there was no more than a second until geto spoke up again, with an idea you were sure he’d had from the beginning of the night, his plans had just been accelerated: “shoko’s house is free now. her parents are away so she wasn’t forced to attend this bullshit,”

gojo’s head perked up at this, looking above your head at his best friend, “you think she’ll have the stuff for a smoke?”

“it’s ieiri,” you said in a ‘duh’ tone because when was she not smoking something. how she was top of her classes, you’d never know.

“god bless that girl,” geto blew a kiss to the sky.

taglist. @hyori2 @ja-zz @animeflower26 @jar-03

[vroomvroommuppett]

four

andrew garfield x ex!wolff oc & george russell x wolff!oc

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kofi

pateron

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ellawolffprivate

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ellawolffprivate bean you are so loved

maxverstappen1 Awwwww soft Ella

ellawolffprivate you want to try again, maximillian? maxverstappen1 no ma'am continue as you were georgerussell63 She hasn't had her one cup of caffeine yet. ellawolffpriavate and where is it? georgerussell63 Line is taking forever.

alexandrasaintlmeux next race we need to go shopping for baby clothes

ellawolffprivate and maternity clothes. i can't go to races in sweats flavy.barla yes!! francisca.cgomez count me in! lilymhe yes please! lilyznemier i wasn't going to be at that one but now i will oscarpiastri Wow. Ditched by my own girlfriend. ellawolffprivate don't take it personal, pastry. she loves me more charles_leclerc I've just learned to accept it estebanocon Same pierregasly Me three alex_albon Same ellawolffprivate at least you know your places

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ellawolff

liked by alexwarren, mercedesamgf1, and others

ellawolff so excited to announce one of my projects! thank you alex for letting me choreograph and be in it! (she's the girl in the thumbnail)

tagged: alexwarren

alexwarren Thank you for being in it and choreographing!

user1 this is amazing!

user2 what can't she do?

mercedesamgf1 THATS OUR MINI BOSS

alex_albon Amazing!

flavy.barla YES ELLA!

estebanocon This is so good!

susiewolff Proud of you honey!

ellawolff thank you mom

lilymhe ooh you need to teach us a dance!

ellawolff let me get through the pregnancy and yes i will

alexandrasaintlmeux wifey

ellawolff only one for me charles_leclerc She's my girlfriend ellawolff but my wife

georgerussell63 So proud!

ellawolff thanks georgie poo georgerussell63 Not my name.

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[romanreignsbae]

Stressed out - R.R

SMUT❗️

Warnings💗: daddy kink, unprotected p in v, 69ing, rough sex, multiple orgasms.

Requests are open!

Y/n walked through the doors of her home, in her worse state yet. She had just had the shittiest day at work. She started off the day, without her husbands goodbye kiss because he had to hit the gym early. Which only made her start her day crankier, then she headed to work, and got caught in a massive traffic jam causing her to make it to work barely on time. Then all her patients we’re ordering her back and forth to do tasks for them. Then to top it off her boss told her ‘she needed to learn to do her job more efficiently and act like she’s grateful for it.’ Like jeez, could she catch a break?

“Hey baby!” her husband said while walking into their main hallway. She didn’t even have the energy to respond and walked towards him and fell in his arms. “Damn baby what’s up with you?!” Joe playfully asked Y/n. “Shut up and hold me” she grumbled into his chest. He chuckled at her words and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked to the kitchen. He sat her down on a island stool and began preparing her a snack.

After a few minutes of Joe shuffling around the kitchen, he came back to his wife and placed what he prepared in front of her. “Thanks” she said lowly and began eating. “So..you gon tell me what’s bothering you?” Joe asked cautiously. The last thing he wanted to do was make her upset. She sighed before she began speaking. “It’s just everything has been getting on my nerves today and I just feel like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed..” she explained. He took notice of the sadness on her face. He hated seeing the most important person in his life upset in any shape or form.

Joe knew that feeling all too well, especially with his busy schedule. “I know babygirl, I know.” he said understandably while stroking her cheek a few times. “But…ya know…you could take some of that frustration out on me..” he said with a smirk coming to his face. She looked up at him and without a word she pulled his shirt and brought him in for a passionate kiss. Their tongue’s both fought for dominance, and Joe let her win, just this once.

She pulled away gasping for air. “Lets..go upstairs.” She took Joe’s hand and led him up to their bedroom. Once they got into their bedroom she pushed him down onto the bed. She crawled on top of him and began slowly undressing him. Joe was growing inpatient but he knew she’d been having a bad day, so he’d let her have her fun…for a little.

Once they were both fully undressed, Y/n moved her body closer and closer to him until she was fully sitting on his face. She then leaned forward and started placing mini kisses on his tip. Joe took some action too and grabbed her hips and started rolling them onto his face. He nibbled at her clit causing her body to jerk and move upwards. He grumbled and kept a tighter grip on her hips. “Lemme eat my pussy in peace” he grumbled with his mouth full. While Joe was devouring her, Y/n moved his cock deeper into her throat and started taking him as far down as she could. His hips jerked upwards causing his tip to hit the back of her throat. She gagged around his cock and removed her mouth.

She then started using both of her hands to get him off. After a few more of his hip thrusts his cum came out altogether and landed on his thighs. She cleaned him up with her tongue and then focused on her own orgasm. Joe started pushing his tongue in and out of her at a fast pace bring her closer to her climax. “Uh yes daddy!” she moaned out. He hummed, causing vibrations to go through her. “I’m gonna-” Y/n got cut off when her body starting shaking in ecstasy. All her stress piled up from the day left her body almost immediately.

She felt Joe continuing to use his tongue to lick up every last bit of her cum. “Mm sensitive!” Y/n squealed out while trying to get off his face. Joe finally let her up and laid her down on the bed beside him. He climbed on top of her and kissed her passionately. The kiss was cut short when she pushed his chest back. “Hey! I thought you said I was in control!” she told him.

“Shhh” he cooed while pressing a finger to her now bruised lips. “Let daddy make you feel good.” He lined himself up with her entrance and began sliding in slowly. He groaned feeling her tightness fit around him perfectly. She sighed out in pleasure and gripped his arms. Once he was all the way in he pulled back out and slammed into her.

She yelled out. “Daddy! Slow down!” she barely managed to get out. He lightly slapped her face. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” He began thrusting out of her at a animalistic pace, with her moans coming out in sync. He looked down to see tears on the verge of falling from her eyes. He then finally stopped moving altogether. “Hey, baby you okay?” he asked softly. “No! Why’d you stop?!” she yelled out. He chuckled and spoke lowly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya” he slammed into her roughly causing her to scream out.

“Your so tight baby! Fit perfectly around daddy’s cock” he said into her ear. After a few more thrusts he felt her squeezing tightly around him, signalling she was close. “You gonna cum for daddy?” “Yes!” she moaned out. He reached down between their bodies and rubbed her clit. She started shaking uncontrollably and after a few more thrusts Joe filled her up.

He collapsed on top of her. She laid there for a second and then pushed him off. He fell onto the bed beside her and looked at her confused. She climbed onto him. “Aren’t you tired yet?!” he asked.

“It’s my turn now” she said with a smirk.

[witchthewriter]

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑾𝑶: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐈𝐀𝐅 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞

a/n: I probably should have done this in a proper timeline so apologies for that. However, it's women with dragons and how they would rule. So I think it doesn't matter that much about certain details.

Anyway, I was fluffing on - thank you for reading this. I would love to have a discussion in the comments as well!

Also, think of each of this as an ulternate universe - please don't apply too much logic :) ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

middle pic by @zacckiel

⋆⭒˚.⋆✧˖°.𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏 ✧˖°.⋆⭒˚.⋆

The blatant advantages of this House are clear: Every Targaryen Queen would have bonded with a dragon. No matter what canon says. Those that inherit power, will be given a dragon by their parents. What being a dragonrider would bring for all Queens is the ability to take to the skies on their dragon and given them unparalleled respect, mobility, enabling them to quickly respond to crises, survey their realm, and gather intelligence that could inform their strategic decision-making.

𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀 | 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑

・Kept the Seven Kingdoms in line - everything flourished under her rule.

・Not cruel, but strict, everyone listened to her when she spoke - every word was heard. Memorised. No one wanted to disappoint her.

・Her 'nickname' isn't about her being a horrible person, but she coined the name because her enemies felt dread. Visenya would never influence this emotion on those that have sworn fealty.

・Created a great emphasis on military strength. Using Vhagar, to assert Targaryen dominance and deter rebellion. Her presence could instilled fear and loyalty across the realm.

・She listened to the issues of the smallfolk, never ignoring anyone who came to speak to her.

・No tolerance at all for disloyalty or betrayal.

・Upheld the Targaryen traditions. This clashed with the Faith of the Seven as they had opposing views on the Valyrian family. That did not matter as she threatened to burn every sept with dragonfire.

・Visenya’s strong-willed nature resulted in swift and ruthless responses to any threats to her throne.

・Her leadership inspired other women in Westeros, altering perceptions of female power and influence.

・Ultimately, Visenya's reign... brought about a powerful mix of strength, justice, but also political changes and threats. Forever shaping the kingdom's future.

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐒 | 𝑀𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝐷𝑦𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑦

・Rhaenys would absolutely usher in and promote the arts. Music, artwork, stories would all be encouraged and upheld.

・For example, Rhaenys would invite different singers to the castle and have them perform for the court. Not only did this influence the courtiers, but help the artists to become more known.

・Her reign oversaw a flourishing of literature, music, and the visual arts, enhancing the cultural identity of Westeros.

・Rhaenys' leadership style was one of unity and innovation.

・She was also known to fly a lot. Meraxes was seen over King's Landing to Dragonstone nearly everyday. Her scales glinting in the sunlight.

・Sometimes the smallfolk could hear Rhaenys' whoops and cheers as she beckoned Meraxes to fly higher and faster.

・Her relationship with the Faith of the Seven

・Rhaenys would likely focus on the well-being of her subjects, addressing issues like famine and injustice. Her policies might include land reforms and support for the common folk, earning her loyalty and respect.

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐀 | 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑇𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑚𝑝ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡

・Rhaena inherited her father's (Aenys' the First) compassion, promoting policies focused on the welfare of the people, particularly the common folk. She emphasized justice and fairness, aiming to reduce the class divide.

・Rhaena's nickname was given to her because she would be on the frontlines whenever there was a battle or a dispute. Every disgruntled House(s) were confronted by her.

・However, her foremost desire was to give women more protection, freedom, opportunities and choices.

・Rhaena was a champion for women, it rubbed the men in power the wrong way. But as Queen, she did not care and brought forward laws that elevated women in society.

・No patience for old men ...

・Rhaena possessed a strong sense of duty and resilience, challenging those who would see her want for change as a bad thing.

・In all honesty, the realm is constantly in some sort of disarray. By it be through small rivalries, gossip, disloyalty, crimes, drought, starvation.

・Rhaena would prioritize the wellbeing of mothers and children - especially the education of all.

・Rhaena's rulership was marked by a degree of authoritarianism, which the maesters would have emphasised greatly in their history books.

・Overall she foresaw the realm and how her choices now would affect it in the future when another would take the throne.

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 | 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑊ℎ𝑜 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠

・Haunted by the legacy of the Queens that came before her, Aerea, was like an underdog rising to show just how capable she was.

・It had surprised many by how well she ruled. Always being early for council meetings, keeping every White Cloak in line and telling them off whenever they needed it.

・She was very mature; a large shock as she was a passionate and wild woman.

・Many did not think she would thrive under such pressures but that was completely untrue.

・As the rider of Balerion - that should have proved just how well she was at leading. The large dragon had welcomed her gladly as its rider.

・Aerea, on her many royal processions, saw what it was like for the smallfolk. Aka., dwindling food, a lot of violence, hardships etc.

・She implemented particular programs to combat such issues, and ensured her subjects would not go hungry. Which only grew the love for both her and Balerion.

・Ironically enough, the dragon that was used to conquor the Seven Kingdoms, was now being used to create and nurture instead of destroy.

𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐒𝐀 | 𝑂𝑢𝑟 𝐽𝑜𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛

・A rebel, a tom-boy; wild and uncontained. Alyssa had shocked many people.

・Nearly everyone she met.

・She wasn't a 'normal' queen - no frivolity nor pagentry.

・Hated wearing formal wear. She was seen in pants 90% of the time

・As the Queen, Alyssa influenced a lot of the fashion in the Red Keep. A few brave women started wearing pants as well - and like a domino affect, it started to change the culture too.

・Alyssa implemented reforms in taxation and land ownership to alleviate burdens on the common folk, ensuring that the wealth of the realm is more equitably distributed.

・She loved showing off Meleys, and the Red Queen did not mind it either - as long as she got a good big feast afterward.

・LOVED sneaking out at night, using the hidden passageways of the castle. Not just being amongst the smallfolk but listening to how they felt about things and how life was down there

[sydsaint]

You're still champion of my heart baby <3

Summary: Tyler faces his toughest fight yet against Chris Jericho with PLE implications. Luckily for him, Tyler's girlfriend isn't above getting her hands dirty in order to help her man win.

You finish up your match against Emi Sakura, managing to earn a quick win against the Japanese legend. After celebrating in with a few fans on your way up the ramp, you head back to the locker room to see if Tyler's left yet.

"Ty? You in here?" You announce yourself as you come through the locker room door.

"Yeah." Tyler replies dryly from somewhere inside the locker room. "You beat, Emi?" He asks you as you shut the door behind you.

You snort and nod. "Course I did, look at who you're talking to." You laugh.

"Right." Tyler laughs with you.

You clean up some excess sweat from your body and throw on a shirt over your ring gear while Tyler idles on his phone like usual.

"Shouldn't you be headed out to the ring to talk with Jericho's annoying ass?" You ask Tyler after you're done changing.

"Yeah, unfortunately." Tyler nods. "I can't believe that he went and whined to my dad." He grumbles.

You snort and agree. "Look at who you're talking about, Ty." You remind him. "Jericho is a total snake. And he's ugly so,"

"You did warn me." Tyler nods. "I'm headed out. Wanna walk with me?" He asks you.

"Sure." You shrug and head over to the door.

Tyler pulls open the door for you and the two of you head down to the tunnel. You stop right at the tunnel entrance and watch Tyler head through it. You hang back since you know that he doesn't need you for this. Not with a shmuck like Chris Jericho.

You hang around backstage and watch the confrontation in the ring from the monitors set up in various places. You roll your eyes at Chris' arrogance, silently praying that Tyler just decks him.

"Oh what the fuck!?" You curse the air when Jericho decides to take a shot at Taz.

Tyler handles the situation, getting into Chris's face. But your worry for Taz gets the better of you. You head down to the ring from the back way so you don't take the spotlight away from Tyler.

"Taz!" You rush over to his side as he carefully rolls out of the ring. "Are you alright?" You help him down to the floor.

"Yeah, I'm alright, kid." Taz assures you, but you notice that his knee is obviously bothering him.

You set a cautious and gentle hand on Taz's shoulder and walk with him back over to the commentary table. Tyler takes a second to glance your way and you flash him a quick thumbs up. Ty nods at your assuring gesture and goes right back to getting in Jericho's face.

"You sure that you're okay, Taz?" You ask Taz again once he's at down.

"I'm good." Taz nods. "Come on, give me some credit, kid. I ain't quite that old yet." He chuckles. "But I appreciate the concern."

You nod and slink back around the tunnel to the backstage area to wait for Tyler to come back.

A few minutes later Tyler comes stomping through the tunnel with a foul air about him. You walk over to him and try your best to tame the beast before he thinks about doing something drastic.

"Tyler! Hey!" You rush over to Tyler's side.

"Is my dad alright?" Tyler asks you, venom in his tone.

You nod and put a hand on Tyler's arm. "Yeah, he said that he was okay." You assure him. "Come on, let's head back to the locker room and get our stuff so we can get out of here." You give his arm a small tug away from the tunnel since Chris is still out in the ring.

"Thanks for going out there and checking on him, YN." Tyler relaxes a little bit.

"Yeah, of course." You nod and begin pulling him along. "And hey, you'll get another shot at kicking Jericho's ass, okay? In the ring. Properly." You glance his way while you're walking with him.

Tyler's jaw clenches in frustration. "He's lucky that I didn't lay him out right then and there." He insists.

"I know, baby." You rub Tyler's arm, still making sure to put as much distance between him and anything Chris Jericho related as possible.

Sunday night rolls around and it's time for Dynasty. You're not scheduled for a match on the card so you opt to hang around backstage and provide Tyler with all the support that he needs tonight.

Tyler's been in a foul mood since Wednesday, and if you weren't a hater then you'd be fearing for Chris Jericho's well being right now.

"You want me out there with you?" You ask Tyler while he's getting ready for his match.

"Nah." Tyler shakes his head. "I can do this by myself." He assures you. "Can you maybe hang with my dad on commentary though?" He asks you.

You nod, surprised that Ty seems worried about his dad. "Yeah, sure." You pull your shoes back on while Tyler finishes getting ready.

The time comes for Tyler's match and the two of you head out. You let Tyler do his entrance by himself and go the back way down to the commentary table. Taz pulls up a chair for you to sit next to him in, but you decline his offer of a headset.

Chris saunters out to the ring after Tyler with his usual smug aura. You roll your eyes at the challenger as he passes the commentary desk but remain in your seat.

The bell rings and the match gets underway, and just like you suspected. It doesn't take long for the bout to get violent. You sit in silence next to Taz while Tyler and Chris go at it beating the crap out of one-another. You wince each time Chris uses a dirty tactic to try and get the upper hand and your anger grows with each second.

"Oh no." Taz slips his headset off his head once Chris retrieves his metal bat from where he was stashing it under the ring.

Tyler barely managed to kick-out of Jericho's last pinning attempt. So you know if Chris lands this than it's over for your boyfriend.

"Oh, fuck no!" You jump out of your seat and slip past Taz.

You rush around the ring and shove Jericho to the floor while's he's got his back turned away from you. Chris's bat goes flying out of his hands and you pick it up.

"Ty might be to proud to be a cheater, Chris." You stare down Jericho as he gets to his feet slowly. "But I'm not like my boyfriend."

You swing the bat at Jericho and it collides with his head. The blow instantly crumples Chris to his knees and you drop the bat. Tyler finally stirs in the ring so you haul Jericho's fat ass up and roll him into the ring before calmly walking back over to the commentary table.

You are met by Taz who looks at you with adoration like you've never seen on the man's face before.

In the ring, Tyler gets to his feet and locks in REDRUM on Chris, not that it's need after your handwork. Aubrey calls a stop to the match after checking on Chris and the bell rings. You pluck the FTW championship from it's perch at the timekeepers area and make your way into the ring.

Tyler lifts himself back to his feet again and you hand his championship back to him. "I knew you could do it." You smile at him and lift his hand in the air in victory.

"Thanks for the help, babe." Tyler whispers to you, secretly proud that you didn't let any of Chris's bullshit slide.

The crowd cheers for Tyler and you hear Taz mention you back at the commentary table proudly. Chris Jericho has been silenced and all is right in the world again.

[lostgracestories]

Same characters: Morgott and Mohg. 😋

So we've had "how do they comfort their S/O," but how do they deal with being comforted? Whether it be from an injury, or maybe they've allowed themself a moment of vulnerability.

I literally love you, please never stop giving me ideas ❤ AAAA

Anyways, I'm lowkey writing this on my phone so not proofread or anything. 🫶 enjoy my loyal pookie

wc: 483

tw: injury, tiny bit of angst, panic attack

Rough Comfort

Morgott

Morgott didn't mean to, but he had sliced his bicep open in the midst of a squabble. At first he tried to hide it from you by bandaging it himself, but the moment you noticed the bandage when he stuck his arm out a little too far from his cloak, you forced him to sit down so you could fix him up. At first he protested, not wanting to get you dirty with his blood. But the moment the warm feeling of a healing incantion buzzed over his skin, he shut his mouth and a quiet purr escaped his lips. He tried to stifle it but the smile on your face convinced him otherwise.

Morgott definitely has self worth issues. He measures his worth based on what the golden order established omens as. The idea that he was cursed and unwanted would often weigh him down. Anytime you caught him silently spiraling, you would climb into his lap and draw circles over his rough features, offering him praises. He wouldn't admit it, but he absolutely loved the feeling of his face being touched in such a way. His shoulders would immediately relax and his eye would shut as he sunk into your hands.

Now, if Morgott is having a panic attack or feeling stressed, comforting him can become very difficult. He paces back and forth and rambles over the topic of trouble and it takes you nearly an hour just to talk him into sitting down with you. Finally, when he resorts to simply spacing out, you pull his head into your lap and brush your fingers through his hair. In these situations you find that silence seems to bring him the most comfort as he grounds himself with your touch.

Mohg

Mohg is a different story. When he gets injured, he immediately comes to you like a wounded puppy. Even for something as small as a minor cut. And you oblige him with praises each and every time, soaking in the delighted sounds that fall past his fangs.

Mohg doesn't particularly feel a sense of guilt for being born the way he was. In fact, he seems to celebrate his appearance and embrace his "curse" however, he does struggle with self image in what people think of him. He'll come to you all sad if he thinks that he wasn't "imposing enough" while explaining his dynasty to another possible candidate.

Finally, mohg sometimes also experiences panic attacks. But instead of fearing that he would burden you with his troubles, you are the first person he seeks out. The moment you see him, hands trembling and eye glossy with tears threatening to spill you take him by the hands and pull him into a much needed hug. Once he's calmed down a little, you'll sit with him and listen to whatever is troubling, he sometimes just needs to get it out of his mind.

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 ~ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

Main Masterlist

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘝𝘰𝘭𝘬𝘰𝘷, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘰𝘳𝘬'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘭. 𝘈𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘶. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘙𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦… 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵.

𝘈 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕 𝘙𝘌𝘐𝘎𝘕𝘚 𝘈𝘜. 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞. 𝘝𝘐𝘖𝘓𝘌𝘕𝘊𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘚𝘌𝘟.

𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘋𝘐𝘚𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕 𝘐𝘚 𝘈𝘋𝘝𝘐𝘚𝘌𝘋.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵:

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴:

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘹

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 ��𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺

[unexpected-character]

Butter Knife and Blake Time

Fallon Carrington x Reader

CEO!reader and Fallon meet after all these years, what do you think would happen next…

Warning: implied sexual themes, kinda toxic old relationship, rivalry (if you think there’s more, kindly tell me so I can it here)

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

Fallon's pov

"Who are we meeting again?" I told Kirby while scrolling through my phone looking at news and articles about what people are saying with Dad's fiasco.

"For fucksakes Fallon! Do you even listen?! This is like the hundredth time. We're meeting Y/N Y/L/N. She's the CEO of Y/L/N Industries." I can feel her irritation but I ignored her. I know who we were meeting but I was bored and she annoys me so I annoy her even more.

"Fine. What time do we have to go then?"

"We have to leave in 30 and Culhane is ready."

I followed her to the car, closed my phone. Tried drowning out everything to try to make me relax before this meeting with y/n. I haven't seen her in years, and now because of my stupid father, we will see each other again. How can my father be such an idiot and announced to everyone in Atlanta that he’ll have a "Blake time" what the hell is it even about.

Ugh! The audacity of that asshole to fucking give up everything he built. He really is a selfish imbecile.

—————————————

Y/N's pov

Mean while in Y/L/N Industries, you were in a meeting with your own mother because she bought the Carrington Atlantics. It is now one of your subsidiaries.

"For godsakes mother! I told you I didn't want to do business with CA because of the scandal they have." I said to my mom, not even hiding how frustrated I am with her.

"Could you just calm —"

"Calm down?! How would I fucking calm down with this? I don't even see why you'd even want it." my secretary knocked on my door, signaling that my next meeting is in 5 minutes.

"You have to go, mom. Let's talk about this at your home. I'll be there for dinner and will continue everything." I gave her a curt nod, didn't even look at her when she left.

I smoothen out the imaginary wrinkles on my suit and looked if my blouse was tucked well. I made myself presentable for my next meeting. I made them wait to the last second of the 5 minutes and pressed the intercom and spoke,

"Donna, show them in." You've been dreading to see her again after so many years.

The woman you didn't want to see entered your office as if she owned it. Still as beautiful and sexy as ever with her a redhead following her. You didn't even sat up your chair to greet them, not because you didn't have the etiquette but because it's Fallon and you just didn't want too. You looked at the red haired woman seeing as she's checking you out not as subtle as you may add. You raised your brows and got up and introduce yourself to her,

"Hello, I'm Y/n. To what do I owe such pleasure Ms.?"

You told the redhead completely ignoring the other woman inside your office who has been studying you closely and staring at you as if she wants to kill you. Jealousy ah green is a beautiful color on her.

"Anders, Kirby Anders, I'm Fallon's executive assistant among others." She told you, slight pink covering her pale face.

"Anders? Like Jo's daughter or something?"

"Yeah? You know him."

"Of course. He's an amazing man, very organized even the smallest of details."

"Yeah that's Dad." Before you were going to reply, the bubble you both had was burst by the ignored woman in the room.

"Have you both forgotten that I'm here too." She looked at you annoyed. If you didn't know her well, which you do, you wouldn't catch the small hurt in her facial expression that suddenly was schooled like it wasn't there before, bug you caught it. You look at her and raised your brow letting her know you saw it too. It's been years and she still thinks she had a claim on you.

"We didn't, we just decided we want to ignore you. What do you want Fallon?"

"I want to buy the company back."

"As much as I want you to have it so I don't have to see you. The contract stated you can't. I seriously don't know how your family sign such without reading the fine print."

"Well why didn't you?"

"I wasn't here you idiot. I gave mom the ropes as I had personal matters to attend to. She fucking accepted the deal. Hell, I didn't want what was written in it."

"Then give it back."

"I can't Fallon and you know it. I'd let hell freeze over before I'd work with you again, we both know that."

"What? Work together?"

"You didn't know? What happened to you? You just don't do stuff without knowing. Are you sick or dying?"

"Stop being dramatic, y/n! I'm trying to think. This can't be it."

"Well that's hopeful. You don't think, you scheme."

"Fucking shut up, Y/n! You don't know me!" She yelled. Kirby flinching as she haven't seen Fallon to be this enraged at someone other than her own family.

You clenched your jaw and looked at the redhead that's been standing awkwardly among you both. You walked around your desk and stop in front of Kirby and said,

"Ms. Anders, would you be a dear and let Ms. Carrington and I have a moment alone. You can ask Donna to show you around or get whatever you want." You smiled at the woman sweetly as if nothing is bothering you at all. You directed the redhead woman to the door. She nodded and smiled, leaving you both alone in your office. You locked the door after she left.

You studied the brunette woman facing away from you. Even after years of not seeing each other. She still has the same physique. Looking like a work of art. You admire her features. Maybe more defined ass but still the same old Fallon you know years ago. You approached her from behind. Your breath so close to her, her breathe hitching. It's been years but you still have that affect on her. She has an effect on you too but you know how to school yourself with all the years of practice.

"You still haven't change, have you pretty girl." you whispered close to her ear. She let out a breath as she felt you nibbling her lobe.b"Y/n..." she whimpered, trying to move away from your proximity. Yet you left open mouth kisses along her ear, neck, and jaw. The sexual tension in your office could be cut with a dull butter knife.

"Still bratty aren't you, love?" You put both your hands on her hips and gave it a hard grip. You heard her groan, finally having your hand on her body. Leaning her body over yours trying to feel anything to help her in her predicament. "Y/n, please..." she tried grinding her ass to your front. She was so frustrated and you can feel the heat. She needed relief and fast. She wants you. You both want each other so much.

"Be a good girl and bend over baby."

To the people outside, they thought nothing of it. As they thought that it was you getting frustrated due to your mother visiting you. It wasn't unusual for them to see your cold demeanour after being in a meeting with her or with old stupid men. Maybe you were angry again and the loud scream they heard and the banging that they can hear from inside was just that. Kirby on the other hand, knew what was going on. Her face looking like a tomato, knowing what's happening but a bit confuse on why it's happening now. Did you both know each other since back then?

[n0irb3ast]

You could hear it; shadows danced behind the thin fabrics that covered your bed. Once again, he had come to see you.

You held your breath, as if that would make you invisible to him, as if that way he wouldn’t find you.

Bony fingers pulled the fabric aside; the first thing you noticed was the sapphire shining under the moonlight. The prince was here once again.

"I hope you're not considering accepting Mother's proposal." His soft voice was the calm before the storm; you could tell by the glint in his eyes. It made the skin on the back of your neck prickle, and a chill ran through your body even under the blankets. "You are not a woman destined for faith."

“No.” You replied quickly, though your voice trembled, and he noticed the lie. You were planning to accept—to give your body and heart to faith, and not to him, who was the rightful owner of both by birthright.

That was enough to turn Aemond's gentle expression into a menacing one. His hands found your wrists, and you tried to break free from his iron grip, but it was impossible.

“I thought I made it clear when I told you that you were mine, sister.” He had indeed made it clear, on the first of many nights he took you in your own bed, yet you refused to believe it. Your mother had raised you very differently from your elder siblings. Aemond had been raised the same way, yet he seemed to have embraced the strange customs of your family all the same. In your eyes, what you and Aemond did, what Aegon and Helaena did, was an aberration.

“B-Brother…” you stammered. You had begged your mother, who was unaware of the difficult position you were in, not to make your entry into the faith official until after you had taken your vows, but she hadn’t listened.

“This is betrayal, sister,” he said softly. “You are betraying your blood, your family. You aren’t honoring my feelings—do you not care how I feel? Are you truly so... cruel as to mock your own brother by making such a decision behind his back?”

Just as you were about to answer, he placed a hand over your mouth, so forcefully you feared he might break your jaw. “No, sister, it’s not me you need to speak to, but Mother. You must tell her that you’ve changed your mind, that you will not accept her proposal... that you’d rather stay here, in the Red Keep, where you belong.”

You nodded and rose from the bed, smoothing down your nightgown in an attempt to appear at least somewhat presentable before your mother.

Just as you were about to leave, Aemond called your name, causing you to stop dead in your tracks. Your name was not sweet on his lips as it had been at other times; no, it sounded almost like an insult. “...And if you happen to accept Lord Wylde’s marriage proposal, I want you to know that this is a bloody war... Anything could happen to you at the hands of a degenerate like that man... Even death.”

[aewceotonykhan]

The Blackpool Combat Club is All Elite. Jon Moxley, Bryan Danielson and Claudio Castagnoli are All Elite.

[bronze-vermithor]

Freedom

aegon ii/lyseni!reader, aemond/lyseni!reader

summary: Aemond is in an arranged marriage with a Lyseni woman. She does not like him but she does like his brother Aegon.

warnings: reader hates Aemond, reader and Aegon only talk but emotional cheating?

note: this is not the same Lyseni!reader from my other fic Isolation. In my first draft, this fic took place during the Dance but I decided that might complicate things and took out anything implying what time this is set during. I also went with the book's canon of Otto being the one who thought of the alliance with the Triarchy. But since this fic doesn't take place during the Dance any longer, the alliance got created earlier than canon. If that doesn't really make sense then so be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Aemond’s wife stood at the window, gazing out at the darkening skies of King’s Landing, her expression as stormy as the gathering clouds. The oppressive air of Westeros choked her, just as its rigid customs stifled her spirit. Everything here felt like a prison, much like her husband Aemond.

Lys had felt like a world of freedom, alive with color, music, and indulgence. Here in Westeros, her every move was scrutinized. They expected her to play the role of the dutiful wife, to behave like a proper lady, and to mind her tongue and fall in line. It was a dull, suffocating existence, and Aemond, dutiful, and unyielding, was the embodiment of everything she despised about this place.

She did not choose Aemond. Their marriage had been arranged. Her father, with Otto Hightower’s careful planning, had sealed the alliance between her family and the crown. Her father was a wealthy magister who had strong ties to the Triarchy and Otto Hightower hoped he could potentially use that connection in the future if a war over succession ever broke out. Or something like that. She didn’t really care about their politics here.

She didn’t arrive in King’s Landing wanting to hate her life here. She wasn’t excited but she had been hopeful that her and her husband would find common ground. But immediately there had been no warmth in Aemond’s gaze when he first looked upon her, only a cold calculation. He was a man with a constant chip on his shoulder who held infinite grudges. He was stern and seemingly had no sense of humor. His presence made her feel wary and uncomfortable.

But Aegon was different.

A small smile touched her lips as she thought of her husband’s brother. Aegon was everything Aemond was not. He was wild, carefree, reckless, and perhaps a little too fond of wine and women. In his company, she found laughter, something sorely missing from her life in the Red Keep. With Aegon, she felt alive again, a stark contrast to the cold, rigid man she was bound to.

The sound of heavy boots echoed outside her chambers, and she knew it was Aemond before the door even opened. When he entered, the air seemed to chill, the tension between them thickening.

“Where were you today?” His voice was sharp, he was suspicious.

She didn’t bother to turn. “In the gardens,” she replied, keeping her tone cool, though they both knew it wasn’t the full truth.

Aemond stepped closer, his single eye narrowing. “With my brother, no doubt.”

She finally turned to face him. “He’s better company than you,” she snarked with a teasing smile.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. “You dishonor yourself by being around him. My deviant brother is no better than the whores he spends his nights with.”

“And yet,” she said, her voice cutting, “he’s far more tolerable than you.”

Aemond’s fury flared. “You are my wife,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Your place is with me, not parading about with Aegon.”

“I never wanted to be your wife,” she shot back, her voice rising. “My father gave me away like an object. I didn’t choose this life and I refuse to suffer in silence. At least your brother treats me like a person, unlike you.”

Aemond’s fingers twitched, a dark shadow passing over his face. For a moment, she thought he might strike her. Instead, he turned sharply, his back rigid, hands clenched.

“You will stop this,” he said, his tone soft yet menacing. “You will not see him again.”

She laughed bitterly. “You can’t keep trying to control me forever Aemond.”

“I can,” he replied coldly, “and I will.”

As Aemond stormed out of her chambers, her heart pounded in her chest. Each confrontation only strengthened her resolve. She would not remain trapped forever. Aegon was her key to escape.

Later, when Aemond was called away for some reason or another, she quietly slipped away, her footsteps soft but determined as she made her way to Aegon’s chambers.

She found him lounging on a chaise, a half-empty goblet in hand. His smirk widened when he saw her enter.

“Well, well,” Aegon drawled, setting his cup aside. “Come to escape my oh-so-noble brother?”

She smiled faintly, moving closer. “You could say that. I find your company much more interesting.”

Aegon’s grin widened, and he gestured for her to sit beside him. “I imagine Aemond is about as enjoyable as a cold bath. I don’t know how you stand him.”

“I don’t,” she replied, sitting down with a sigh. “I survive him.”

Aegon laughed, his hand brushing against hers casually. “That’s all anyone can do in this place. But you…” he tilted his head, his eyes appraising her. “You were made for more. Freedom. Pleasure.”

She felt lured in by his words, the rebellious part of her coming to life at what he said. It made her recall the memory of her life before she was bound by the restrictions of Westeros. With Aegon, she could almost pretend she was back in Lys, where laughter and wine flowed as freely as the sea breeze.

“And what would you know of freedom Aegon?” she teased, her tone genuine but curious. “You may live without care, but you’re still bound by your title and by your family.”

Aegon shrugged, reclining further. “Perhaps. But I take my pleasures where I can. Wine, women, a good fight. Isn’t that enough?”

She turned to face him more fully, leaning closer as her voice softened. “It’s not enough for me. I don’t want to simply indulge in pleasures. I want to be completely unshackled.”

Aegon’s smile faltered, just for a moment, as he studied her face. “You never will be as long as you’re married to him, you know.”

Her throat tightened at the truth of his words. Aemond would never grant her the liberty she craved. His jealousy had already grown stronger, especially over her time spent with Aegon.

“I know,” she whispered. “But I’ll take whatever I can get, even if it’s stolen moments like this.”

Aegon’s hand lingered on hers. “Then take more. Aemond doesn’t have to rule you.”

Her breath caught at the implication behind his words. She knew Aemond’s jealousy was close to boiling over, but wasn’t that what she wanted? To push him, to see the cracks in his usual icy facade? Maybe then he might show some personality for once.

“I won’t be his prisoner forever,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I refuse to be.”

Aegon smiled again, more genuine this time. “Good. You deserve better than to waste away under his control.”

They drank to that, to freedom, in whatever form they could find it. As their cups clinked together, she felt a surge of something reckless, much like the man sitting beside her. In Aegon, she could forget, if only for a little while, the heavy dull weight of life in Westeros. Here, she could breathe again. She could feel alive.

But even as they laughed and drank, she knew they were playing a dangerous game. She knew Aemond was not a man to be trifled with. She knew his jealousy was growing more intense with every passing day. She knew how much he disliked his own brother. It was only a matter of time before it all boiled over. And when it finally does, the consequences would be far worse than either of them could imagine.

I thought about writing another part but in Aemond's perspective so we could understand from his point of view why he's seemingly a bit harsh in this. But I'm undecided on if I will or not.

[stsgluver]

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 — gojo satoru

synopsis. libraries and gojo do not mix

wc. 1.3k

tags. rb!gojo, gojo x reader, reader is close friends with geto + shoko, gojo is described as an 'attention whore'

a/n. i might write for choso next since ive got some yuuji's older brother x babysitter ideas

series masterlist

“say it again.”

“now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

gojo’s head rested on his crossed arms as he stared up at you with those cerulean eyes that you so adored. he wore a confident grin as he shrugged off your allegations, “i’m gorgeous who wouldn’t want to compliment me?”

you scoffed, maybe a little too loudly for the student library you were currently in (they dreaded whenever you walked in with your snowy-haired boyfriend in tow since he couldn’t shut up for more than thirty seconds). “maybe someone who has three exams,” you emphasised by showing him your laptop screen with more tabs open than you could count, “in the next week and actually wants to study so they can pass.”

“my trust fund’s probably more than you could ever make working,” gojo waved a hand dismissively.

“that’s brilliant, satoru,” you deadpanned, “i’m not leeching off of you.”

“it’s not leeching, it’s love,” he said wistfully, blowing you a kiss.

you shook your head in disbelief – his parents had raised him in such a controlled environment, teaching him about his future important roles and the importance of his wealth. he’d risk it all for you and a relationship that he was not even sure was forever. well, in gojo’s mind you were forever – in his dad’s? not so much. so your boyfriend can’t exactly blame you for your hesitancy when his dad asked him at least once every week if he had broken up with you yet.

“i will never understand you.”

“but you do baby. better than anyone.” there was a sincerity in his tone, one that convinced you that he was right and you two were meant to be it for one another. he leant forward to press a quick peck on your lips, sitting himself back down far too soon for your liking. you weren’t even ashamed by how quickly he had you staring back at him with hearts in your eyes.

“this is a public space. i did not come here to see that.”

you twisted your head to see shoko grimacing with geto in tow, an unlit cigarette between her lips as she stuck her nose up at the two of you. they had just come out of their own exam and you were surprised that shoko hadn’t chosen to go and have a smoke before she met you. presumably, you took it as a sign she felt she hadn’t completely bombed out. 

pulling out the seat next to you, you excitedly gestured for your close friend to sit, having barely seen her for the last couple weeks with exams and assignment deadlines. she pushed her bag off of her shoulder, dropping down into the seat next to yours, before leaning across to steal the bag of crisps that you had next to your laptop.

“where’s my kiss, pretty boy?” geto sat down in the seat opposite gojo, an over exaggerated pout on his lips, the metal hoop on the corner of his mouth jutting out. he sent you a wink when you rolled your eyes at his usual flirting with your boyfriend. 

“see!” gojo didn’t even flinch when you elbowed him in the side because of how loud he was being. one of these days they were going to outright ban you altogether and then you would never get a moment of peace to yourself to study. “he compliments me. i wish he was my girlfriend.” 

you, again, went to hit him in the side, but this time he caught your arm, pecking your cheek quickly despite you trying to wriggle out of his gasp.

“shhh,” another student in the room hissed and gojo quietly groaned (somehow always the victim in his mind), releasing your arm and slumping down in his seat like he’d just been scolded by his mother. shoko snickered at his behaviour and the look on your face.

“can we please leave?” gojo whined a little more quietly, though not by much, resting his head on your shoulder. glancing over between the two who had just finished their exam, you let out a quiet sigh. they’d made no effort to take any materials and of their bags yet so there was no way they were going to be doing any studying now either. you were outnumbered three to one.

“depends,” you slowly closed the screen of your laptop slowly, gesturing between your boyfriend and geto opposite who raised an eyebrow. “you really want suguru to be your girlfriend instead of me? over a compliment?” you folded your arms in front of your chest, trying to not laugh as you acted serious.

geto clasped his hands together, clicking his tongue, “you hadn’t told her yet?”

gojo lifted his head from your shoulder, hesitantly glancing towards you with a grin he couldn’t hide as he (unsuccessfully) tried to shuffle his seat away from yours, “i was getting there. haven’t you seen her? she’s violent, i was scared.” 

“funny that,” you pointed a thumb at your snowy haired boyfriend, “weren’t you just offering me your trust fund?” 

that peeked shoko’s interest and she held out her hand to you, “i’ll go halfsies with you on that.”

“of course, anything for you,” you agreed, slipping your hand into hers and giving it a quick shake. shoko winked now at gojo, who’s mouth had dropped wide open at how carelessly you’d just hypothetically given away half of his money.

“woah, woah,” geto raised his hands in the air, bringing the attention back to him as hbe leant back in his chair, “this changes things dramatically. i was only ever here for the money.”

gojo gasped and stood up, overwhelmed by the consecutive betrayals, pointing an accusatory finger at his best friend, “you’re literally rich yourself. how could you use me like this?” to any random onlooker, they may have actually been convinced that he was seriously devastated by his fake mistress’ words.

“yeah but spending someone else’s money means everything’s free. i’m not asking for much, i deserve a life with no burden.” shoko stood up so she could reach across the table and give him a high five. 

gojo held out his hand, aggressively raising his fingers as he listed aloud, “i’m feeling undervalued, underappreciated, under-”

your boyfriend almost jumped out of his skin as a librarian placed a hand on his shoulder. it was almost comical at how this older woman, half the height of gojo, glared up at him. “excuse me sir, we’ve had several complaints,” though her words were formal and polite, she gritted her teeth as she spoke, narrowing her eyes at the disruptive male. if it were up to her, there’d be a large sign of his face on the door with a massive, red ‘x’ through it.

“sorry ma’am,” geto stood up and bowed his head, clearing his throat as he tried not to laugh, “we will be leaving now.” gojo nodded in agreement, slipping under the woman’s grasp and scurrying out of the room with geto close behind.

“i’m going to kill him,” you muttered, although you were still smiling as you hurriedly packed your laptop back into your bag to follow after your boyfriend. 

“all of that walking for nothing,” shoko complained as you stepped outside to see gojo and geto at the bottom of the stairs. pulling out her favourite yellow lighter from her pocket, she finally lit the cigarette she’d been teasing herself with since she’d left her exam.

once you got to the bottom of the stairs, gojo hooked his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to himself. geto stole shoko’s cigarette to take a hit, blowing out the smoke upwards before he looked between the three of you. “where to now?”

“i’m treating you all to ice cream with my hard earned money,” gojo pressed a kiss to the side of your head before lightly shoving you off of him, giggling to himself. “kidding! we’re all racing and whoever gets there last has to pay.”

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[vroomvroommuppett]

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andrew garfield x ex!wolff oc & george russell x wolff!oc

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send an ask or reblog to tell me what you think, and/or what you think could happen

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f1news

liked by user1, user2, and others

f1news fans saw actress and mercedes team principal's daughter, ella wolff, fighting outside of a restaurant with husband, andrew garfield. fans couldn't hear what was being said well, but it looks like it was a bad one.

tagged: ellawolff, andrewgarfield

user1 poor girl

user2 she never deserved him

user3 what happened?

user4 i hope she's ok

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andrewgarfield posted a story

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ellawolff posted a story

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ellawolffprivate

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and others

ellawolffprivate men ain't shit

alexandrasaintlmeux on the way bby 🩷

francesca.cgomez same flavy.barla we all are heidiberger_ on my way too lilymhe we're here for you hun iamrebeccad flying there now

charles_leclerc You ok?

lewishamilton We're all here for you, E.

carlossainz55 Just say the word.

kimiraikonnen 🔪?

sebastianvettel No, Kimi. We are not going to kill him oscarpiastri But the thought is there

maxverstappen1 Shipping red bull to you now.

ellawolffprivate if there's caffeine free, yes. i'll save them tho. landonorris ELLA WOLFF NOT DRINKING RED BULL?! ellawolff it's not good for the baby? charles_leclerc BABY?! pierregasly WHAT?! YOU'RE PREGNANT?! ellawolffprivate yes? i thought y'all knew alex_albon I did logansargeant Me too mickschumacher Same lewishamilton I did georgerussell63 Me three. oscarpiastri Ok you don't have to rub it in.

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