#rhys larsen x you

[bambisworlds]

about my blog <3

you can call me B :) i'm 20 years old. she/her.

my masterlist

about my oc; bambi !

first off, not all of my fics include character description or names. bambi's in her 20s. she enjoys reading taking walks in nature, adult coloring books, baking, and collecting toys/trinkets/collectables in general. she has a passion for music, writing songs, and singing. she is shy around most people, besides people she's comfy with. she's often naive and doesn't catch on to when people don't like her or are being mean to her. florence is her best friend (i picture florence pugh when i write about her).

my content is mature and for 18+ only!! any minors will be blocked.

*some of my fics will include ddlg dynamics or an oc that age regresses, but not all of them. i will include warnings in my fics that include that sort of stuff for those of you that aren't comfortable with it! (also, if i misrepresent ddlg relationships or age regression please let me know! i'm currently still learning about it in regards to myself and in general). so, please be kind and patient with me <3*

requests :)

comment them under my masterlist or under any fics i've posted :)

big no no's for requests are; noncon, cnc, piss play, coprophilia, anything sexual involving a character that is in little space, or fics involving a minor and an adult together romantically. please exclude things like that from any requests you send in <3 (get as weird as you want besides that idc) i also only write for afab readers, sorry babes

people i write for :)

aemond targaryen, alex volkov, andy barber, august walker, azriel, bucky barnes/the winter soldier, cassian, casteel da'neer, chris evans, copia/papa emeritus iv, din djarin, drew starkey, eddie munson, geralt, harry styles, joel miller, rafe cameron, regina george (renee rapp's version), rhaenyra targaryen, rhysand, rhys larsen, rick grimes, simon "ghost" riley, sodo/dew drop, steve rogers, terzo/papa emeritus iii, wade wilson

****also i've found a few other Bambi oc’s, mainly in Rafe Cameron fics, so if there’s any similarities i apologize, they are coincidental and not intentional! <3

[goddessofvalyria]

BODYGUARD | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!oc

Summary: Aemond Targaryen is the bodyguard of Miranda, the daughter of an important politician.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, the fem!oc is named Miranda with long dark brown hair and eyes, kissing, sexual themes, dirty talking, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (m and f) tits sucking/play, SMUT, sexual tension, sex, violence, guns, alcohol. Age gap (Aemond is in his early 30s, she in her early 20s) This is a modern Aemond in modern AU. Yes, Aemond's role is inspired by Rhys Larsen from "Twisted Games" book.

English is not my first language, be kind and enjoy it <3

Words: 8348

This is my Masterlist and you can read more about Aemond and all the Ewan's characters.

Read the one-shot under the cut!

Aemond Targaryen is a formidable presence, a man shaped by the trials of his past. Standing tall with a defined, muscular build, his long silver straight hair flows down his back, contrasting sharply with the dark patch covering his left eye—a constant reminder of the battle that took it. Once a member of the King's Land Army and a Navy Seal, Aemond’s bravery and strength are legendary. His remaining purple eye, intense and vigilant, surveys his surroundings with unwavering focus, always on guard.

Aemond now serves as the bodyguard to Miranda, the daughter of a prominent politician. She is a striking young woman in her early 20s, with curly dark brown hair that frames her face and dark, intelligent eyes that miss nothing. Studying law with aspirations of becoming an advocate, Miranda combines beauty with brains, knowing how to navigate the complexities of her world with both charm and cunning. She carries herself with a provocative confidence, aware of the power she holds and not afraid to use it to her advantage.

The grand hall is buzz with anticipation as the evening's political convention is underway. It is one of the most significant events of the year, a gathering of influential figures, powerful politicians, and their families. Miranda, dressed in an elegant black Versace gown, stand at the front of the room, listening intently as her father give an impassioned speech about the future of their nation. Her dark brown curls cascaded over her shoulders and her jewelry sparkles in the light.

Behind her, Aemond Targaryen stand like a shadow, his tall, imposing figure alert and unwavering. He is never far from her side, always vigilant, always ready. Despite his often grumpy demeanor, Aemond is a man of duty, and he take his role as her protector very seriously. But as he watch her, there is something more in his gaze—a quiet admiration that he kept locked away, hidden beneath the stern exterior of a bodyguard. His eye follow the line of her neck, the curve of her shoulders, the way she hold herself with grace and confidence. It is a dangerous line he walks, for he know he could never act on the feelings that simmer beneath his stern facade. 

Miranda, on the other hand, is aware of Aemond's presence but often found him overbearing. She don't appreciate the way he loom over her, always close, always watching. His gruff personality and harsh tone often grate on her nerves, and she make no secret of her irritation. But she can't deny that he is exceptionally good at his job.

As her father continue to speak, Miranda shift her weight slightly, feeling the tension in the room. It os then that Aemond's keen instincts kick in. Something is off. His eye dart around the room, scanning faces, movements—anything out of the ordinary. And then he see it: a group of men, too focus, too deliberate in their movements, pushing through the crowd, their eyes locks on her father.

"Miranda," Aemond's voice is a low growl as he step closer to her. "We need to move. Now."

She turn to look at him, irritation flashing in her eyes. "What are you talking about? I'm listening to my dad—"

"Now" he repeat, more forcefully this time, his hand already reaching for her arm. There is no time to explain. No time to argue.

Before she can protest further, chaos erupt. Shouts fills the air, follow by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. The men drown weapons, aiming directly at her father on the stage. Aemond react instantly, pulling Miranda close and shielding her with his body as he begin to move them through the panicking crowd.

"Stay down!" he barks, his voice cutting through the screams as he push her toward the exit. Miranda's heart race, her breath coming in short gasps as the realization of what is happening hit her. Her father's life is in danger, and so is hers.

Aemond's grip on her is firm but not painful as he guide her through the chaos, his eye constantly scanning for threats. They reach the car outside, and with a forceful shove, he push her into the back seat, slamming the door behind her. 

He jumps into the driver’s seat and start the engine in one smooth motion, the car roaring to life as he sped away from the convention center. Miranda glance back through the window, fear and worry etched on her face. She want to go back, to see if her father is safe, but Aemond's stern voice broke through her thoughts.

"He's got security. They’ll take care of him," Aemond says, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly as he maneuver through the streets, driving fast but controlled. His focus is entirely on getting her to safety.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Miranda blurts out, her fear quickly turning to anger as adrenaline surges through her. “If you knew something was wrong, why didn’t you—”

"Because I don't have time to explain every damn thing to you," Aemond says, his voice harsh. "My job is to keep you alive, not to chat about it."

Miranda glares him, but the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. She looks down at her trembling hands, the gravity of the situation crashing over her. 

After a few tense moments, she speaks again, softer this time. "Thank you... for saving me."

Aemond’s gaze softens slightly as he watches her in the rearview mirror. He gives a small nod, his voice hoarse but less harsh. “It’s my job.”

But as he returns his focus to the road, his thoughts betrayed him. It isn’t just duty that had drive him to act so fiercely. It is something deeper, something he can't allow himself to acknowledge.

Not now. Not ever.

Miranda leans back in the seat, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breathing. She don’t like him—didn’t like his attitude, his arrogance. But in that moment, she realize just how much she dependes on him, whether she want to or not. And that realization is almost as unsettling as the attack itself.

The car pull up to the large country house that Miranda and her family call home, the grand estate nestle away from the bustling city, surround by tall trees and high walls. As soon as they arrive, Aemond is out of the car, his sharp gaze scanning the perimeter before he opens the door for Miranda. She steps out, her heels clicking on the stone driveway as she walks briskly toward the entrance. Aemond is close behind, his presence like a shadow that refused to leave her side.

Inside, the country house is quiet, the usual staff absent at this late hour. Aemond quickly moves to activate the security systems, locking down the property. The tension in the air is palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. As soon as the last panel is secured, Miranda spans around to face him, her eyes blazing.

"Do you always have to be so damn controlling?" she snaps, her voice echoing through the spacious foyer. "I get that you have a job to do, but you treat me like I'm some kind of prisoner!"

Aemond’s jaw tightens, his frustration boiling over. "I'm doing what I have to do to keep you safe, Miranda. If you can't see that, then you're more naive than I thought."

"Naive?" she hisses, stepping closer, her finger jabbing at his chest. "You're the one who thinks he can just bark orders and expect everyone to fall in line! You don't get to control every aspect of my life!"

"I'm not trying to control your life, I'm trying to save it!" Aemond's voice is sharp, his patience wearing thin. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you waltz into dangerous situations, acting like nothing can touch you? You could’ve been killed tonight, Miranda! Do you even understand that?"

Miranda’s eyes flares with defiance, but beneath it, there is a flicker of fear. She hate feeling vulnerable, hate that Aemond had see that side of her. "You don’t get to talk to me like that. You work for my father, not for me. And I don’t need you treating me like a child who doesn’t know any better!"

Aemond steps closer, his tall frame towering over her, but he keep his voice on control, though the intensity in his eye is undeniable. "Maybe you do need someone to remind you what’s at stake. I’m not here to be your friend, Miranda. I’m here to keep you alive. If that means being harsh, then so be it."

Miranda clenches her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she glared up at him. "You’re impossible," she mutt, her voice lace with frustration. "You think you know everything, but you don’t. You don’t know what it’s like to live under this constant pressure, to always have someone watching your every move."

Aemond’s expression softens for a brief moment, a flash of something almost vulnerable passing through his eye. "You’re right," he says quietly, his voice losing some of its edge. "I don’t know what that’s like. But I do know what it’s like to care about someone and not be able to protect them. I’m not going to let that happen again."

Miranda opens her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat. She see the pain flicker in his eye, and for a moment, she is caught off guard. But the anger and frustration are still too raw, too overwhelming.

"Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to control everything, you’d realize that I don’t need saving," she says back, her voice cold. "I can take care of myself."

Aemond’s face hardens again, the vulnerability gone as quickly as it appears. "Fine" he said, his tone clips. "But until your father tells me otherwise, I’m not going anywhere."

Miranda turns on her heel, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and confusion. She doesn’t know why this discussion bothers her so much, but she needs space. Without another word, she storms up the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

Aemond watches her go, his fists clenched at his sides. The discussion is having an impact on him, too, stirring up emotions he’s tried so hard to keep buried. But as much as he wants to follow her, to say something, anything, to make things right, he knows he can’t. Not now. Maybe never.

Miranda reach her room and slam the door behind her, leaning against it as she try to steady her breathing. Her mind is racing, the events of the evening replaying over and over. The attack, the fear, the way Aemond had protected her so fiercely. And then the argument, which had somehow seemed even more intense than the chaos of the convention.

She pushes off the door and walks into her bathroom, needing to do something—anything—to calm herself down. Turning on the shower, she strips off her dress and steps under the hot water, letting it wash away the tension that built up in her body. But even as the water cascade over her, she can’t stop thinking about Aemond.

Why did he have to be so infuriating? And why did she feels so…conflicted? She hate the way he treat her, hate his controlling nature. But there is something else there too—something she can’t quite put into words. The way he looks at her, the way he thrown himself into danger without hesitation, all to keep her safe.

Miranda closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cool tile. She can’t afford to think about Aemond like that. Not when everything is so complicated, not when her father’s world is so dangerous. And certainly not when Aemond is just doing his job, no matter how much she wishes it was more than that.

Aemond sits on the edge of the couch downstairs, restless. His mind races despite the quiet of the country house, the events of the evening still fresh. He can’t shake the nagging feeling that something could go wrong, that danger might still be lurking. He exhales sharply and stands, deciding to check on the situation outside through the security system.

His eye scans the camera feeds, revealing the guard dogs patrolling the perimeter and a police patrol car stationed outside the gates. Everything appears secure. But his concern for Miranda persists. The argument had left him unsettled, the tension between them simmering beneath the surface. He knows she’s safe in her room, but something compels him to stay closer, just in case.

Aemond ascends the stairs, moving quietly toward Miranda's room. The light from the bathroom spills into the hallway, and he hears the steady flow of water from the shower. For a moment, he hesitates, listening, confirming to himself that she's okay. The anxiety that had been gnawing at him begins to ease, and he decides to head to the room that’s been set aside for him.

Inside, Aemond strips off his work clothes, feeling the weight of the evening settle into his bones. He pulls on a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, his movements automatic, the routine familiar. But his mind is still on Miranda, replaying the look in her eyes during their argument, the fire and frustration that had blazed between them. He places his gun on the nightstand within easy reach, a habit born of years of training, before lying down on the bed. The country house is quiet, secure, and he convinces himself that she’ll go to sleep soon, and he should try to do the same.

Aemond is on the verge of sleep when he hears something. A faint noise, coming from downstairs. His body tenses instantly, and he’s out of bed in a heartbeat, grabbing his gun. The country house is supposed to be secure, but his instincts are honed from years in the field, and he knows better than to dismiss even the smallest sound.

“Miranda?” he calls out, his voice low but urgent as he steps into the hallway. There’s no answer. He repeats her name, louder this time, but the silence that follows only heightens his concern. His grip on the gun tightens as he moves down the stairs, the noise growing clearer as he approaches the kitchen.

When he rounds the corner, Aemond spots her. Miranda is standing by the fridge, her back to him, completely unaware of his presence. His relief is fleeting as his adrenaline-fueled mind still races with the possibilities. 

“Miranda!” he barks, his voice sharp, laced with the tension he’s feeling.

She jumps, spinning around, and her eyes go wide when she sees the gun in his hands. “What the fuck, Aemond?” she yells, anger and shock mixing in her voice. “Are you seriously pointing a gun at me in my own house?”

Aemond lowers the gun immediately, the intensity in his eye still burning as he tries to rein in his panic. “I heard something. You didn’t answer when I called,” he snaps back, frustration and relief colliding. “I thought—”

“You thought what? That I can’t even get a glass of water without you storming in here like it’s a war zone?” she interrupts, her voice rising with each word. “This is my house, Aemond! I shouldn’t have to explain every little thing I do to you!”

“You don’t understand the risks!” Aemond retorts, his voice as sharp as hers. “I’m here to protect you, and that means I take everything seriously. If you’re moving around, I need to know!”

Miranda glares at him, her hands clenched at her sides. “You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is suffocating me! I can’t even breathe without you looming over me, telling me what to do!”

“I’m trying to keep you alive!” Aemond fires back, stepping closer, the space between them charged with the intensity of their argument. “You think I like having to be this way? You think I don’t know how it looks? But I’d rather you hate me than see you get hurt because I wasn’t careful enough!”

Miranda’s eyes flash with a mixture of anger and something else, something that makes Aemond’s heart pound in his chest. “You don’t get to make that choice for me, Aemond. I’m not a child, and I’m not your possession. You might be my bodyguard, but you don’t own me.”

The words hang between them, heavy and charged. Aemond’s breath comes faster, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. He knows she’s right, knows he’s crossed a line, but the fear of losing her, of failing in his duty—of failing her—makes it impossible to back down.

And then, in the heat of the moment, something snaps. Aemond steps forward, closing the distance between them, and before he can think better of it, he grabs her by the arm and pulls her toward him, pressing his lips to hers in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Miranda stiffens, shocked, her hands pushing against his chest. But then, for just a heartbeat, she hesitates, caught off guard by the intensity of the kiss, by the raw emotion behind it. 

But reality crashes back in, and she shoves him away, her breath coming in sharp, angry bursts.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Aemond pulls back as if burned, the realization of what he’s done slamming into him like a freight train. He stares at her, his expression torn between regret and something deeper, something he’s fought to keep buried for so long. “I—” He starts to speak, but the words die in his throat. He knows there’s nothing he can say to justify what just happened.

Without another word, Aemond turns and walks away, the gun still in his hand as he heads back up the stairs, leaving Miranda standing alone in the kitchen, her lips tingling from the kiss, her mind reeling.

Back in his room, Aemond closes the door behind him and leans against it, his heart pounding in his chest. He’s crossed a line, a line he never should have even approached. But the taste of her still lingers, and he knows that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t forget it.

He places the gun back on the nightstand and collapses onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. He’s made a mistake—a mistake that could cost him everything. And as much as he wants to convince himself it was just a moment of weakness, deep down, he knows it was more than that.

Miranda stands in the middle of her room, her mind racing as she tries to process what just happened. The kitchen is quiet again, but her thoughts are anything but. She can still feel the pressure of Aemond’s lips against hers, the raw intensity of the kiss that had taken her completely by surprise. Her hand unconsciously drifts to her lips, tracing the spot where his mouth had been, still tingling from the contact.

She paces back and forth, trying to shake off the confusion and the strange mix of anger and longing swirling inside her. Aemond had no right to kiss her like that, she tells herself. But the truth is, she can’t deny the way her heart had raced, the way she had almost—almost—given in. She stops by the window, looking out at the darkened estate, her reflection faintly visible in the glass. Miranda bites her lip, trying to push the memory of his kiss out of her mind, but it lingers, stubborn and insistent.

Miranda slips under the covers, she still thinks about that kiss, those lips, those hands. She closes her eyes and takes off her shirt, remaining with her breasts bare, she slowly begins to touch herself with the thought of Aemond's lips on hers in her mind, pretending that it is he who is touching her.

She lowers her hands, teases her already hard nipples, leans against the pillows and arches her back, raises her hips and slips off her soaking thong. She slides two fingers inside her, she is hot, soaking wet, she begins to move her fingers, she moans, licking her lip. With the other hand she squeezes one of her breasts, she moans Aemond's name while she rides her own fingers, with her thumb she gives herself pleasure on her clit. It is not the first time she has done it, she is terribly ashamed of wanting it.

"Aemond" moans as she feels her pussy tighten around his wet fingers, she fingers herself and repeats his name over and over until she comes. God, how she wants to have him between her legs, how she wants to see his body on top of hers, see him subduing her and fucking her, opening her up on his hard cock. She is so excited that she finds herself fingering herself again, this time moaning louder, almost as if in defiance. She fingers fuck herself, her thumb ravages her clit and she comes a second time.

Exhausted, she falls asleep naked and frustrated, god she wants to fuck her bodyguard so much.

Aemond lies on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts a tangled mess. He’s furious with himself, ashamed of the way he lost control. The kiss was a mistake, he knows that, but it doesn’t stop him from reliving the moment over and over again. The softness of her lips, the brief but undeniable connection, the heat of the moment that had obliterated all rational thought.

Aemond finds himself in the same situation as Miranda.

He slides a hand into his boxers, then pulls them down, takes hold of his long erection and begins to slide the hand he spat on up and down. He wishes she were kneeling in front of him, he wishes he had her hands around his cock, he wishes he had her mouth. He closes his eyes, imagines her face, her lips, imagines her naked body: her full breasts, her narrow waist, her tight, hot, wet pussy. He wants to fuck her so bad, God.

"Miranda" Aemond moans her name, he feels close and comes into her hand, Miranda's name dying on his lips.

He runs a hand through his silver hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. He should have kept his distance, should have maintained his professionalism. But something about Miranda��the fire in her eyes, the way she challenged him—had gotten under his skin in a way he hadn’t expected. And now, all he can think about is how badly he wants to taste her again, how he’d give anything to feel her pressed against him, to lose himself in another kiss. But he knows it’s wrong, that he can’t let it happen again.

The following morning, Miranda and Aemond move around the country house as if on autopilot, careful to avoid each other. Breakfast is a tense, silent affair.

"My dad is safe, he texted me today in early morning. His bodyguard kept him safe, he is still at police central to talks about his aggression" are the only words she say before remain in silence again.

During the day they both focus on their own thoughts, neither willing to acknowledge what had happened the night before. Aemond busies himself with his duties, checking the security systems, communicating with the guards, all while keeping a deliberate distance from Miranda. She, in turn, throws herself into her work, studying for her law exams, trying to ignore the lingering tension between them.

But despite their best efforts, the memory of the kiss hangs between them like a shadow, coloring every interaction with an unspoken tension that neither of them can shake.

By the time night falls, the tension between them reaches again a boiling point. It starts with something small—Aemond insisting that Miranda stay in for the night, and Miranda pushing back, refusing to be told what to do in her own home.

“You’re not my warden, Aemond” she snaps, her voice laced with irritation as they stand in the hallway outside her room. “Stop trying to control everything I do.”

“I’m not trying to control you,” Aemond growls, his frustration spilling over. “I’m trying to keep you safe, but you’re too stubborn to see that!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so damn overbearing, I wouldn’t feel like a prisoner in my own home!” she retorts, stepping closer, her eyes blazing with anger.

Aemond clenches his fists, struggling to keep his temper in check. But her defiance, her refusal to listen—it’s driving him crazy. “You think I like this? You think I want to be here, arguing with you every night? You make everything harder than it has to be!”

"Your father is too loose with you!" she screams. "A girl like you should be treated a certain way and certainly not like a spoiled princess, damn it!"

Miranda scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, so now it’s my fault? Now I am a fucking spoiled princess?! You’re unbelievable, Aemond. You are—”

But before she can finish, Aemond closes the distance between them in two quick strides, his hands grabbing her by the shoulders as he pulls her into a kiss that is anything but gentle. It’s rough, intense, a clash of tongues and teeth, all their pent-up frustration and desire spilling over in one explosive moment. Miranda resists for a heartbeat, her hands pushing against his chest, but then something inside her snaps, and she’s kissing him back just as fiercely, her fingers curling into his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss is messy, desperate, filled with all the things they’ve been trying to deny. Aemond’s hands roam her back, pulling her flush against him as his mouth devours hers, the taste of her like a drug he can’t get enough of. Miranda gasps into the kiss, her body arching against his, her own desire igniting in a way she hadn’t expected. It’s a battle for dominance, neither willing to give an inch, both needing to prove something to the other, to themselves.

Miranda moans into the kiss, gripping his shirt and feeling his hard erection press against her hips. When they finally break apart, they are both breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together, their bodies still tangled. Miranda’s lips are puffed out, her chest heaving as she stares at him, her dark eyes filled with a mix of anger, confusion, and something dangerously close to desire.

Aemond’s grip on her tightens, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. He wants her—God, he wants her more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he knows he’s crossing a line, a line that could cost him everything. “Miranda, I—” he starts, but the words fail him, the reality of what they’ve just done crashing down on him.

Miranda’s expression hardens, and she pushes him away, taking a step back. “Don’t” she says, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else, something she’s not ready to confront. “Just… don’t.”

Without another word, she turns and storms into her room, slamming the door behind her. Aemond stands there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, his mind a jumble of regret, frustration, and an undeniable need that he can’t seem to shake. He knows this can’t continue, that he needs to find a way to regain control—of himself, of the situation.

With a heavy sigh, he finally retreats to his own room, the taste of her still lingering on his lips, his thoughts consumed by the memory of her kiss. He lies down on the bed, but sleep is elusive, his mind replaying the night’s events over and over. He knows things have changed between them, and he has no idea how to fix it—or if he even wants to.

Miranda lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind too restless to let her sleep. The memory of Aemond’s kiss is like a wildfire in her thoughts, impossible to extinguish no matter how hard she tries. The anger, the frustration, and the undeniable heat between them replay in her mind, over and over again. Her body still hums with the energy of their earlier encounter, and the unresolved tension makes it impossible to settle down.

She throws off the covers, her body too warm, too wired to stay still. Wearing only a tight tank top and a black thong, she gets out of bed, her bare feet silent on the cool wooden floor. Without thinking, she finds herself walking down the hallway, the country house quiet around her, the only sound the soft rustle of her clothes as she moves. Her heart pounds in her chest, her thoughts drawn to Aemond, to the way he had kissed her—rough, desperate, like he couldn’t help himself.

Before she can second-guess herself, she’s standing in front of his door. The house is still, her breath loud in her ears as she raises her hand to knock. The sound echoes in the quiet hallway, and she holds her breath, waiting. It takes a moment, but then she hears movement on the other side, and the door swings open.

Aemond stands there, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker, more intense, as he takes in the sight of her. His eye roams over her body, lingering on the way the tight top clings to her curves, the strip of fabric at her hips leaving little to the imagination. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips, and the tension between them crackles in the air like electricity.

Miranda’s eyes meet his, her breath catching in her throat. She’s not sure what she’s doing, what she’s expecting, but the words tumble out before she can stop them, her voice low and almost challenging.

“Tell me how a girl like me should be treated.”

For a moment, Aemond just stares at her, his eye darkening with a mix of desire and restraint. His jaw clenches as he wrestles with his emotions, the question she’s asked pulling at something deep inside him. He’s silent, his breath coming in controlled, steady breaths, trying to maintain a grip on his resolve. But her presence, the challenge in her eyes, the way she’s looking at him—it’s unraveling him.

He steps back, his hand on the door, as if he’s about to close it, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he motions for her to come in, his voice low and rough.

“Miranda… you don’t know what you’re asking.”

She steps inside, the door closing softly behind her as she faces him, her eyes locked on his. “I know exactly what I’m asking,” she says, her voice firmer now, a mix of defiance and need. “Show me.”

Aemond’s control snaps. In one fluid motion, he steps forward, his hand sliding around the back of her neck as he pulls her close, his lips crashing into hers. The kiss is intense, fierce, even more so than before. It’s as if all the emotions they’ve been holding back—anger, desire, frustration—pour into this moment. His other hand finds her waist, fingers pressing into her skin, pulling her against him as if he can’t get her close enough.

Miranda responds with equal fervor, her hands fisting in his hair, pulling him down to her level as she meets his kiss with a hunger that surprises even her. His lips move against hers, demanding, tasting, devouring, and she gives in to the fire that’s been burning between them for far too long.

Aemond’s hand slides from her waist to her hip, fingers brushing against the bare skin just above the waistband of her thong. He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, his breathing ragged, his voice a rough whisper. “A girl like you deserves more than this… but damn it, I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t” Miranda breathes out, her lips brushing against his as she speaks. She knows she’s pushing him, pushing them both to the edge of something they might not come back from, but she doesn’t care. All she knows is that she needs this, needs him.

He groans low in his throat, a sound of surrender, before he captures her lips again in another bruising kiss. His hands roam over her body, feeling the softness of her curves, the warmth of her skin. He’s rough, his touches possessive, but she responds to it, her own need mirroring his.

The kiss deepens, becomes messier, more desperate, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. Aemond lifts her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he presses her back against the door. The cold wood contrasts with the heat of their bodies, a reminder of how out of control this is, but neither of them care.

Their movements become frantic, hands exploring, pulling, teasing. Aemond’s lips move to her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses down to her collarbone as Miranda gasps, her nails digging into his shoulders. The tension between them is like a live wire, snapping and sparking with every touch, every kiss, until it feels like they might both combust.

But then, as quickly as it started, Aemond pulls back, his breathing heavy, his eye dark with desire but also conflicted. “Miranda…” he murmurs, his forehead resting against hers as he struggles to regain control. “This isn’t… we shouldn’t…”

She looks up at him, her eyes wide, her lips swollen from the kiss, her body still thrumming with need. “I don’t care” she whispers, her hands still clutching at him, afraid that if she lets go, he’ll slip away. “I want this… I want you.”

The tension that had been simmering between them for so long finally erupts, consuming them both in a whirlwind of passion and need. There’s no hesitation now, no holding back—just the raw, unfiltered desire that has been building up for far too long.

Aemond takes her in his arms, holds her to the door, grazing her lips with two fingers. Miranda opens her lips and shamelessly sucks his fingers. He looks at her, slowly lowers his hand, moves her panties to the side and enters her with his fingers. She is so hot, tight, soaking wet. "You are so wet, princess" he whispers, kissing her while with his fingers he makes one of those little fingerings that make her melt on his own fingers. "You're so needy."

Miranda moans, clings to him with her strength and clings to his body. "I don't want to come, I don't want to yet" she whispers soaked in pleasure. "This is just the beginning, princess" he whispers.

Aemond grabs her in his arms and carries her to the bed. He makes her lie down on top, Miranda takes off her top and Aemond takes off her thong. Naked, trembling and aroused in front of him. She is reduced to a mess. She grabs him by the waistband of her pants, Aemond is on top of her.

"I heard you last night" he whispers kissing her under the ear. "You were touching yourself thinking about me, huh?" Aemond opens her legs, swelling between them. "Yes" she moans feeling his fingers teasing her clit again. "I was touching myself and thinking about you" she whispers feeling Aemond's thumb encircling her pearl.

"I imagined you were between my legs" her hand slides over Aemond's. "I wanted you to be there licking me, touching me" she slowly runs her fingers over her wet opening and enters herself. "Aemond" she whispers arching her back. "So, I kept going like this until I came on my fingers" she moans, Aemond feels hard and sore, in one move he takes off his tracksuit pants and boxers.

His erection is long, veiny, calm, its pink tip is beaded with pre-cum. "Let me show you how to treat a girl like you."

Aemond takes hold of himself, his cock slides over her opening, Miranda moans, he teases her clit and then turns her on more and more. His cock slides over and over between her wet folds. "Aemond..." she moans, shaking, until he brutally thrusts inside her. It's heavenly. Forbidden. Her pussy is tight, hot and wet, made for him.

"You're so tight" Aemond whispers, grabbing her in his arms. "You're so... wet, so... fuck" he begins to thrust into her, his thrusts are strong, hard, they take her breath away. Miranda moans, pushing her hips towards him. She's dreamed of this for so long, she just wants it to never end.

"My good girl" Aemond whispers fucking her. "What would your father say if he saw you like this" a devilish smile forms on his face. "His little princess getting opened by his bodyguard's cock" he gives her a hard push, she moans holding on to his shoulders. She buries her face in his neck, inhales his scent. Her bodyguard's cock inside her is so hard, long, she can feel it almost all the way to her stomach.

"I touched myself to thinking of you" he whispers twisting her nipples. "Aemond, fuck, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond" she whispers, her scent invades his senses. He feels her tighten, her legs tremble. Aemond brings his fingers to her pussy, surrounds her clit with his fingers and moves them in circular movements. "Cum for me all over my cock" he whispers.

"Cum for your bodyguard, princess" he touches her, she is excited, his cock pushes into her and she is held tight to him, panting. Aemond continues to fuck her while she comes, he feels her orgasm approaching and while she comes he pulls out coming between her thighs. Their skin is sweaty, Aemond kisses her breasts, collapses in her arms.

Later, as they lie together in the aftermath, the room is quiet, the only sound the soft, steady rhythm of their breathing. Miranda rests her head on Aemond’s chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his skin. The warmth of his body against hers is comforting, and for a moment, everything feels perfect—like nothing else in the world matters except for this moment.

As her fingers glide over his chest, she feels the raised, uneven texture of a scar. Her touch stills, and she lifts her head slightly to look at him, her gaze questioning but gentle. “What happened here?” she asks softly, her fingers tracing the line of the scar.

Aemond’s body tenses beneath her, his eye darkening with the weight of the memories that come flooding back. For a moment, he’s silent, the only sound his breathing as he grapples with whether or not to open up to her. But something about the way she’s looking at him—concerned, caring, vulnerable—makes him want to share the truth.

“When I was in the King’s Land Navy Seals,” he begins, his voice low, almost a whisper, “We were on a mission… deep in enemy territory. It was supposed to be a routine operation, but everything went wrong. We were ambushed. The enemy… they knew we were coming. My best friend—he was right there beside me. We’d been through everything together, always had each other’s backs. But that day…” His voice falters, and he takes a deep breath, the pain of the memory evident in his tone. “I failed him, Miranda. I couldn’t protect him. I tried, but… he didn’t make it.”

Miranda feels her heart ache at the pain in his voice, at the weight he’s been carrying alone for so long. She shifts slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest, right over the scar, as if her touch could somehow soothe the hurt he’s been holding onto. “Aemond…” she murmurs, her voice soft and full of understanding. “I’m so sorry.”

He closes his eye, trying to push down the guilt that has haunted him for years. “That’s why I’m so… overprotective with you” he admits. “I can’t let anything happen to you. I can’t fail again.”

Miranda lifts her head to look at him, her eyes searching his. She can see the torment in his expression, the way he’s been carrying this burden alone, and it breaks her heart. “You won’t” she assures him, her voice firm but tender. “You haven’t failed me, Aemond. You’ve done everything you can to keep me safe. But you don’t have to do it alone. We’re in this together.”

Aemond opens his eye to meet hers, the vulnerability in her gaze cutting through the walls he’s built around himself. For a moment, they just look at each other, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding. Then, Miranda leans up and presses her lips to his, a soft, lingering kiss that’s more about comfort than passion. It’s her way of telling him that she’s here, that she sees him, scars and all, and that she’s not going anywhere.

When she pulls back, there’s a moment of quiet between them, the weight of their shared confessions settling into the space. Then Miranda speaks again, her voice a soft whisper. “No one must know about this—especially not my father.”

Aemond hesitates, his sense of duty warring with the desire to protect her secret, to keep this moment between them. He knows the risks, knows that if anyone found out, it could mean the end of everything—for both of them. But when he looks into her eyes, sees the trust she’s placing in him, he can’t bring himself to say no.

“Alright” he finally agrees, his voice steady but laced with a hint of reluctance. “I won’t tell anyone. This stays between us.”

Miranda nods, relief flooding her expression. She leans in to kiss him again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if sealing their pact with the touch of her lips. When they part, she settles back against his chest, her body molding to his as they find comfort in each other’s presence.

For a long time, they lie there in silence, wrapped up in the warmth of their shared connection. There’s still so much left unsaid, so many things they’ll need to face, but for now, in the quiet of the night, they find solace in each other’s arms, knowing that, no matter what happens next, they’ll face it together.

Miranda lies against Aemond’s chest, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw as she looks up at him. The intimacy of the moment has dissolved some of the barriers between them, and her gaze softens as she meets his eye.

“Take off your eyepatch” she whispers, her voice gentle but insistent.

Aemond tenses for a moment, the request catching him off guard. His instinct is to refuse, to keep that part of himself hidden. But when he looks into her eyes, sees the genuine curiosity and care there, something in him shifts. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reaches up and pulls the patch away, revealing the scarred, empty socket beneath. Inside there is a blue sapphire.

Miranda doesn’t flinch or look away. Instead, she reaches up to touch the scar, her fingers light and tender against his skin. “You don’t have to hide from me” she says softly, her voice filled with understanding. "The scar on your handsome face is... kinda hot, sexy to me."

Aemond swallows hard, the vulnerability of the moment washing over him. For so long, he’s kept this part of himself hidden, afraid of what it represents, afraid of how others would react. But with Miranda, there’s no fear, no judgment—only acceptance.

The tenderness in her gaze pulls him in, and before he knows it, their lips meet again. This time, the kiss is slow, deep, filled with a sense of connection that goes beyond physical desire. It’s as if, in that moment, they’re baring their souls to each other, revealing the parts of themselves they’ve kept hidden from the world.

As their kisses grow more heated, the desire between them reignites, but now it’s mixed with something deeper—a need to be close, to hold on to each other in this shared vulnerability. They move together with a newfound sense of trust and passion, their bodies entwining as they lose themselves in each other once more.

"I need you inside me again, please" Miranda whispers, Aemond begins to kiss her with soft, tender, wet kisses. Slowly he traces the profile of her body, reaches her pussy and opens her legs, positioning himself between them.

"I want you, princess. You're so breathtaking"

His naked body is pure art: a toned and lean body, veiny arms as well as her hands and her v-line closes to his long, thick and erect dick for her. Her long silver hair is loose and he, as well as she, smells of sex.

Aemond touches her, she is still so sensitive, but slowly he pushes his fingers inside her, so tight and wet. Miranda moans and soon he buries his head between her thighs and devours her as if it were his last meal of her moans, her hands in Aemond's long silver hair. "Aemond...Aemond, Oh my fucking god!" she moans, arching her back, Aemond licks her clit, fills her with two fingers and then when he is about to come he gets up, lifts himself on the bed, kneeling in front of her, takes his manhood stroking himself a couple of times, bends over her, who feels his erection pressing between her thighs.

Aemond rubs himself against her, shortly after he opens her again on his cock and she, invaded again, moans, bringing a leg to his side. "I need..." she whispers. "Of you, of all this... God Aemond, don't stop" Aemond holds her in his arms, buries himself inside her again. "It's dangerous" he whispers on her lips. "But fuck, how much I want you" he caresses her lower lip, bites it, kisses it.

He brings his hands to her waist, continues to push into her until he feels her break in his hands. Aemond kisses her breast, takes a sensitive nipple between his lips, licks it and Miranda, feels close to orgasm again. "Cum for me princess" Aemond orders her. "Cum inside me, I want to feel you" she replies.

Aemond looks at her, Miranda is lost in the most dissolute pleasure. He continues to fuck her until he feels her come around his shaft and he lets himself go inside her, filling her. "Princess, my little princess treated like she deserve" he moans, he lets himself fall on her body again, Miranda hugs him breathing in his scent.

"God, what a man you are Aemond Targaryen."

Miranda clings to Aemond, hugs him and places small, sweet kisses on the scar on his face. "When…" she whispers, moving her hand to his silver hair. "When did you start looking at me differently?" she asks.

Aemond sighs, looks at their reflection in the mirror in front of the bed. They are a tangle, skin against skin, the sheets at their feet. Their naked bodies touching, God, she is so beautiful.

"A year ago" Aemond admits. Miranda bites her lower lip. "When I carried you away from that event, where the crowd had started to become oppressive and they broke through the security barriers when they saw you. I took you in my arms, you were so scared. I carried you away and in the car, when you were crying and you held me… something in me snapped" her voice is calm, gentle and different from his usual arrogance.

"It started a year ago for me too" she whispers. "Soon after that, I… I don't know, but the way you made me feel protected… it made me want more" she rises a little, brushes their lips and settles on his chest, on top of him, their legs entwined.

Miranda rests her face on Aemond's chest, listens to the beat of his heart. "I tried to provoke you, Aemond Targaryen" she admits with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Splashing in the pool, teasing you, wearing shorts and circling you, little jokes… but nothing has managed to dent you until… today" she smiles, gives him a kiss on the chest.

"I don't want to give you up" Aemond admits. "But I know my place" her sense of duty is infinite. "We'll keep it a secret and… when the time comes I'll tell my father. I'm his only daughter and since my mother passed away he just wants to see me happy. How could he not accept our relationship? You're the person who protects me and loves me the most in the world after him, Aemond."

Miranda's words are sincere, she knows her father well and knows how to trick him in her favor. "Please, trust me" Miranda takes his face in her hands and kisses him with a burning intensity.

"Aemond" she whisper. "I'm horny again" she kisses his skin, he shivers at the touch of her lips

"And now let's make love" she sits on him, her naked body is simply wonderful. Aemond moves her on his hips, Miranda closes her eyes and lets himself be penetrated by his cock, hard again. She moans, Aemond sits on the bed with her in his arms, riding him. "You're mine" Miranda whispers. "You're mine Aemond Targaryen" he holds her, Miranda kisses his neck.

The world outside fades away as they make love again, this time with an intimacy that’s as much about their hearts as it is about their bodies. Every touch, every kiss, is charged with emotion, a silent promise that they’re in this together, scars and all. 

When they finally come back to themselves, they’re both breathless, spent, but there’s a new sense of peace between them.

Miranda rests her head on Aemond’s chest again, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her. He holds her close, his hand gently stroking her hair, and for the first time in a long while, they both feel a sense of completeness, as if they’ve finally found what they’ve been searching for in each other.

She was his and he was hers, her bodyguard.

[bookishpedia]

TWISTED SERIES X HUNTING ADELINE 9

Adeline: I handcuffed Zade.

*Later that night*

Bridget: I wanna handcuff you Mr. Larsen.

Rhys: Sure princess.

Bridget: (secures the cuffs)

Bridget: (Sub consciously gets on all fours to crawl)

Rhys: Aren't you supposed to be the one in control?

Bridget:

Bridget: Oh-

Rhys: (breaks the cuffs)

[thomasisaslut]

Stress and Relief

Bridget Von Ascheberg x Rhys Larsen

After attending many events, parties, weddings, even his own, Rhys Larsen was tired. Currently he was buried in paperwork, since becoming his wife's Prince Consort he hasn't had a break, Bridget intends to give him that.

OR

Bridget gives Rhys a blow-job for his hard work!

Word Count: 1.1k

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51154276

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1393367855-𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝-𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬-stress-and-relief

Rhys Larsen say at his desk, mounds of paper stacked upon the hard wood. He sighed, it's been so long since he has been able to relax, let alone properly fuck his wife—The Queen, Bridget Von Ascheberg.

His hands slam down on the desk, crumpling another useless piece of parchment before tossing it in the waste bin.

"Something wrong?" A voice chimes from the doorway, Rhys instantly snaps out of his anger and meets Bridget's eyes. A sight that lights up his world, one he couldn't live without.

"No." The new Prince Consort replies, his tone is still grumbly from the workload.

"Liar." Bridget walks over, her blonde hair tied back into a high ponytail, an elegant light yellow—near white—dress on, the trail drags behind her as she strides over. "What's wrong?" She places her hands on Rhys' cheeks, cupping his face in her delicate, soft fingers.

The former bodyguard sighs, he leans into his wife's touch. "I'm stressed... I know it is nothing compared to your work as a literal Queen-"

"Rhys Larsen!" Bridget interrupts. "Usually I am the one complaining, mister." She kisses his forehead, her lipstick leaving a slight smear, Bridget chuckles then wipes it away with her thumbs after licking them. "I know something that can always help..." The queen states suggestively.

"Princess." He warns, fuck, how Bridget loves that word, the same term he's called her since they first met, she more than loved it, Bridget adored it when he called her that. "We can't right now."

"I never said we had to go full on, god only knows how long you take." She winks.

Rhys smirks. "What? When I fuck you for so long you're limp? Perhaps even not walking at all?"

Bridget's cheeks flush a light hue of pink, she nods. "Yes, that." Her hands remain on her husband's face. "May I help you now, Mr. Larsen?"

"Of course, princess."

Bridget sinks to her knees, sliding under the desk Rhys was working at, she trails her hands from his cheeks to his thighs in the process.

The Prince Consort watches her every movement, from the twitch in her lips as a smirk forms to her fingers clenching around his legs, he loved it. Bridget spreads Rhys' legs before unbuckling the belt he wore, she unlocks it before moving to the button and zipper. Bridget quickly undoes both, Rhys lifts his hips slightly and the Queen quickly pulls his boxers down along with the black pants.

"Don't stop your work for me, Mr. Larsen. It is important after all."

Fucking tease.

But, Rhys complied, he picked up another piece of parchment and begins to scan the report. Bridget and the rest of the Royal Court—Only Bridget, Rhys didn't actually care for the Court's opinion, he was after all, a Prince Consort. He had more power—decided that he would take over resident issues. However, most of the recent issues have been nothing but unreasonable complaints.

'This restaurant is too expensive!' That isn't the Court's problem.

'The roads have too many pot holes.' The roads are made of gravel or are newly paved.

'There are too many-'

Rhys has to suck in a breath as Bridget took his cock into her mouth, she quickly sucked the tip, sucking the pre off of the head. He fees his cock twitch, it only grows more hard by the second.

Her tongue slips into the tiny slit before she circles around the tip with her tongue, Bridget then slides him further into her mouth, Rhys' cock now halfway in her throat.

"Fuck, Princess." Rhys moans, his free hand gripping her blonde hair. "You're always so good for me, well..." A small chuckle escapes his lips. "Almost always."

Bridget says something along the lines of 'Whatever' against his cock but it only came out as 'bmphf'. However, that very noise sent a shiver down his spine, his grip tightens on her scalp.

"More, Bridget." Rhys groans, he begins to buck his hips when Bridget removes her mouth from his cock, he sends a small glare his wife's way.

"You're suppose to be working, Mr. Larsen." She smirks, voice hoarse.

"And you're suppose to be sucking my cock, princess." He growls.

Bridget's smirk falls, her cheeks fade into a maroon color. "Then get back to work and I will do my job."

Rhys glares but nods, he brings his eyes back to the papers and Bridget begins to bob her head on his cock, pre was now pouring down her throat, Rhys was so close to cumming it was inevitable, he had to think of the weirdest things not to shoot his load.

Rotten tomatoes.

Grizzly bears.

Table cloths.

But the objects weren't enough, especially not when Bridget brought her hands to his balls and began to toy and play with them, squeezing and lightly tugging. A loud moan passed his lips.

"Bridge- Fuck, Princess. I'm going to cum and you are going to take it, do you understand?" Rhys looks down at his wife, Bridget on her knees was a sight to see.

She moans around his cock, a confirmation that she understood.

Within a second his load shoots down Bridget's throat, filling her esophagus with his cum. The blonde swallows every single drop, she then slides his cock out of her mouth, it causes a loud 'pop' sound. Bridget uses her index finger to swipe the release that slipped out of her mouth, she then sticks her finger into her mouth and then she finally, truly, swallowed every drop.

She stumbles a bit as she stands, knees red from the hard wooden floor. Rhys' hands instantly fly to her hips, stabilizing her balance.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Rhys blurts out, worry filling his tone.

Bridget only giggles. "No, my love, I am not." She straddles Rhys' lap, kissing his neck then jaw before kissing his mouth. Her tongue slips into his mouth and Rhys tastes himself on her tongue. They moan in unison.

"Thank you, Princess."

"Of course, Mr. Larsen, are you less stressed?" Bridget smiles, kissing his cheek.

"Yes, you're magical, Bridget."

The blonde headed woman laughs, she smiles widely, a sight that makes Rhys' life worth while.

"Yes, I am."

"Thank you, truly, Bridget." Rhys adds. When she raises her eyebrow he continues. "For everything, for loving me for who I am, for... for being yourself around me, thank you, my love." He cups her cheeks before slamming their lips together.

She melts into the kiss and presses back, slipping her tongue back into his mouth to deepen the kiss. But this embrace was different from before, instead of hungry it was loving and sweet, every moment of the kiss was magical.

Rhys and Bridget truly were perfect for each other.

A/N: I realized that there are nearly zero Twisted Series fics, I plan to fix that! I hope you enjoyed this short one-shot! 💕

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Do's and Don'ts

Hello everyone! I'm not really that new to Tumblr, so I do know how this whole thing works. I just kinda deleted my old acc, and made this one for a fresh start so yeah:)

You can find my Masterlist here!

Do's

Fluff

Angst

Smut

Platonic

Girl x girl

Gender nuetral reader/non binary reader

Platonic age gaps

PLATONIC family pieces (like, brother x sister, sister x sister, platonic stuff yk)

Don'ts

Rape

Huge age gaps (from four years apart and up)

Incest

Yandre/Tsundre

Character x animal/furry kinda thing

Kidnapping (unless it is part of a story and the kidnapper is platonic e.g. the grabber x platonic!reader etc)

A scenario in which the reader dies

Spirit x Reader (like a ghost kind of spirit, because that's js weird)

Specific AU's (e.g. Mafia!Seungcheol x reader. I'm general I js think it's a no)

anything anal (just no)

People who I write for:

Seventeen

All members

Alice In Borderland

Shuntaro Chishiya

Yuzuha Usagi

Ryohei Arisu

Kuina

Ann

Suguru Niragi

Ginji Kyuma

Daikichi Karube

Mira

Aguni

Akane Heiya

Kotoko Shiga

Sunato Banda

Kōdai Tatta

Oki Yaba

All Of Us Are Dead

Lee Su-hyeok

Choi Nam-ra

Lee Cheong-san

Nam On-jo

Yoon Gwi-nam

Park Mi-jin

Jang Ha-ri

Jang Woo-jin

Min Eun-ji

Han Gyeong-su

Yang Dae-su

Stray Kids

All members

BTS

All members

Blackpink

All members

Any Kpop groups

Squid Game

Kang Sae-byeok

Seong Gi-hun

Hwang Jun ho

Abdul Ali

Front Man

Cho Sang woo

Twisted Series

Alex Volkov

Rhys Larsen

Josh Chen

Christian Harper

Ava Chen

Bridget Von Aschenberg

Jules Ambrose

Stella Alonso

King of Sin Series

Dante Russo

Kai Young

Dominic Davenport

Xavier Castillo

Vivian Lau

Isabella Valencia

Alessandra Davenport

Sloane Kensington

There might be more added to this, but I will try to make a Masterlist sometime soon. So cya, and have a lovely day. Don't forget to drink water and eat something, love you all!

[socalwriterbee]

Sweet Escape

Choices Book: Witness: A Bodyguard Romance

Characters: Cassian Keane (m!LI) x Viviana (Ana) Marin (MC /OC)

Rating/Warning: Adult Language, Adult Content ⚠️⚠️18+ ⚠️⚠️

Word Count: 1700+

Base in Play: 2nd

Summary: Ana escapes from Cassian, once more. Going over what he has learned about her, wondering where she could have gone, a place from her past life, a place of comfort. But he needs to find her before the ones that want her gone do.

A/N: I know this book gets a lot of hate and at times deserving so. It had its moments but those were far in between. So I took the concept of the book, some scenarios from what I remember and from a quick search and I'll be making it my own as much as possible. Because HELLO BODYGUARD ROMANCE!! (I'm thinking of you Mr. Rhys 'crawl to me' Larsen)

A/N 2: Viviana (Ana) Marin is a mix of the MC with OC characteristics in her. I am hoping that she speaks to me in more of Original Character sense because lets face it, the witness MC is possibly not the best out there. And Cassian needs better than what was given to us!! Please excuse any errors, I tried to edit as best I could!

A/N 3: This fic is for Day 1 of Spring Fever Pitch, it contains adult language and 2nd base action. Location Location Location! Nothing hotter than things getting hot in a library.

Characters and some scenarios in use belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

📖📖📖📖

How the hell did mange to slip pass me? I was still trying to figure that out. It wasn’t the first time, she did the first night we met and look where it landed her. Didn’t she know the danger that was surrounding her, wondering the city, an easy target for the ones that wanted her gone. I needed to find her before they did and before my boss knew she was missing.

I was in deep shit once I had to report what happened.

With a woman like her, book -fucking- smart, beautiful and god so stubborn, she needed to be shown just how dangerous the streets were for her without my protection. And once I found her, that was exactly what I was going to do.

I was done playing games, done babying her, done trying to make this situation as understanding as possible. It was my job and her life on the line for god’s sake. The file we had on her, ran through my mind. Needing to remember the places that she frequented, the spots that made her feel like she had a normal life, even if that life was no longer hers.

Parks, downtown, clubs, the campus where she worked— I run my hands through the thickness of my dark hair and sighed, she wasn’t dumb enough to go back to her apartment. There was a place somewhere in this city that made it feel like her old self, the real her. Not the woman she was trying to be that night I met her, the night she ran into the people that changed her life forever.

The party-goer was not her, that much I knew. I watched her in silence in my apartment where we were staying before the safe house was secured for us to move to.

“Where did you go Viviana?” I whisper into the night, allowing myself to say her real name, the sun had set some time ago. The craving of a long pull from a cigarette makes my hand tremble, my hand fisted at the urge before releasing it easing the need a touch. I quit that habit a few weeks ago, the need for it was strong right now, knowing it would ease the tension and help clear my mind.

I scan my surroundings, the neighborhood stilling for the night. Nothing seemed out of place, the small neighborhood I called home for years went by as it did every night, not an action out of place.

Viviana, Ana, as she liked to be called was going on hour two of escaping from my home. “Think Cass think!” I mutter out, that day replaying in my head for what felt like the thousandth time.

I was up before she was, Ana had wanted to make our breakfast this morning, I thought nothing of it. Like she always did, she excused herself to the spare room that had become hers. I, on the other hand checked in, gave updates, which weren’t many and received them, along with a new timeline of our move to the safe house.

Ana had come down stairs with a book in her hand, not just any book. I recognized the book, the cover well worn, the spine cracked after many reads as it passed through the Keane family. It was in my possession now, my mothers favorite Irish love story.

I didn’t dare take it from her, the look that settled on her face I only saw once. Our night together that seemed so long ago now. The way she spoke of her love of ancient myths and the classical writings of famous authors. Any other man would have been turned off by such a subject but not me, I was drawn in at the passion she exuded.

That's when it hit me, fuck. I know where she was, hoping she is still there. One of her favorite places and the second most dangerous place she could be.

After getting in my car and driving to the university she had been employed at, I walked through the campus, a quiet night for the most part. A few groups of students passed me by as I made my way to the library. The building lights glowed, the air blowing inside instantly cooling everyone who entered.

It was quiet, too quiet for midweek. My awareness on high alert, there should be more people in here. I had to be careful, unable to draw my gun out, I didn’t need to scare the students that were here. A simple nod from the library staff sitting at the counter was all I got as I made my way deeper inside.

Walking pass the open area that housed tables and chairs for study groups, a handful or so of students here. None bothering to look up as I passed them by, all of them lost in their studies.

Heading further into the library, the ticking of my watch feeling like the only sound heard in the quiet space. My eyes roam looking for any movement, anything or anyone that shouldn't be here and there in the glow of a lamp is her reflection on the window.

Ana’s long chocolate colored hair gone, in its place was short. dirty blonde hair, she was still incredibly breathtaking. Unable to see the green in her eyes with her nose stuck in book.

Silently closing the space that separates us. My anger building at the carelessness she has of her surroundings. “Do you know how dangerously stupid this was?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Ana jumps in her seat at the sound of my voice. Looking up at the reflection of us in the window. Our eyes lock on each other, my jaw tensing as the silent minutes pass by.

“You scared me Cassian.” Ana whispers.

“I scared you?” I chuckle at her statement. “I could have been anyone, you lost in a book at a library you came to often before entering Witsec. People you worked with roaming the campus, one word of you being seen here could get to those that want you gone. What if the people who want you dead were roaming around and you wouldn’t have a clue of what is going on until it was too late.”

Her bottom lip trembles at my words, praying that she understands what could have happened with this little escape. “I…I’m sorry. I needed to get out.” Ana pushes her seat back to stand, turning around to face me.

The need to show her what real danger she was in evaporates when her emerald green steal my breath from my lungs the moment they truly land on me.

I needed to protect her, not only because it was my job but I've come to like her far too much for our own good.

There’s a hesitation in my step, the urge to close the space between us and take her in my arms. Every fiber in me wanting to relive the memories, the ones that still haunt my dreams, of our night together. The way her lips moved with mine, her hands running up and down my back with her legs wrapped around my waist.

Running my hand through my hair, damn it. I’m going to regret this but I needed her in my arms. One quick stride and my arms are wrapped around hers, one around her waist pulling her in and the other at the back her neck, exposing that sensitive skin and making her mouth ready for me to take.

My darken gaze searching her eyes for permission, the slightest opening of her mouth and the breath that hitches in her throat let’s me know she wants this too.

My mouth presses into hers, Ana moves her lips against mine trying to grab control as she takes a groan out of me. Pushing her back into the table, pulling away, Ana breaks our kiss when she jumps on and spreads her thighs open for me to fit between.

My chest heaving as the air fills into my lungs, her hands find their way under the hem on my gray t-shirt, her touch against my bare skin making me flinch at the contact. “Cass.” My name filled with promise of what’s to come as it slips from her lips.

Placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth then moving along her jaw and down her neck. My own hands roaming over the swells of her breast, making quick work of the buttons of her shirt. Pushing it open revealing her white bra against her tanned skin. Her back arches pushing her breast out wanting more.

Taking one, the weight of it perfect in my hand before pulling the cup of her bra down, revealing her pebbled nipple, my hooded gaze looking up at the woman before me, my Ana, watching her reaction when I pinch her nipples tighter. Smiling as her head falls back and that sweet moan causing my pants to get tighter.

My mouth and tongue ready to devour the sight in front of me, when the screech of a chair stops me. My years of training kicking in at the sound, my hand wrapping around the handle of my gun, ready to face whoever snuck behind us.

“Sorry.” A timid girl, hands filled with books says, runs away from the scene she stumbled on, the instant I turn around.

My head drops, I let myself get carried away in the moment, damn it! My job was to protect her not claim her whenever she looked at me. This was just a lapse in judgement, never to happen again.

Her life was in danger, for all I know I could have put it more in danger and all I wanted was to take her right here, to finish what we started, but that would never happen.

Rolling my shoulders back and straightening myself out, with the heat of the moment gone, Marshall Keane settling back in. My next words were cold, short and indifferent. “Fix yourself. It’s not safe, we’ve been out for too long.”

“Cassian.” My name being called out as a plea.

“Please.” I want to say her name but she wasn’t Viviana or Ana anymore, and calling her by her name would be the third stupidest thing I would’ve done tonight. “Listen for once.”

Ana’s little escape could have been the end of her. I needed to keep her at arms length, for my sanity and her safety. I had a job to do and Ana clouding my mind would be a disaster for the both of us.

I just didn’t know if I could stay away.

event tag: @springfeverpitch

[txemrn]

Thanks for the tag, @shannonsaid! Sending you the biggest hugs, lovey! I miss youuuuuuu! 🖤

Ships: Wait, are we discussing my favorites? Eep! Okay, so... there are a ton, so I am going to limit this to ships I dream about currently on a regular basis.

Fanfiction: Ethan Ramsey x Tatum Erikson (OPH); Liam Rys x Riley Brooks-Rys (PTG); Liam Rys x Reid Ambrose (Stay)

Books: Maxen Ash Colchester x Embry Moore (x Greer Galloway); Aiden Bell x Elijah Iverson; Tristan Miles x Claire Anderson; Pike Lawson x Jordan Hadley; Rhys Larsen x Bridget von Ascheberg

Last song: "Burial Plot" - Dayseeker

Last movie: The Help

Currently reading: Credence by Penelope Douglas; The Guest List by Lucy Foley (the struggle is real)

Currently watching: You [insert obvious stalker joke]

Currently consuming: water

Currently craving: more water, actually (just finished my glass lol)

~🖤~

Who wants to play? @sfb123 @charlotteg234 @socalwriterbee @ao719 @queenrileyrose @cariantha @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @peonierose @annfg8

“Tag 9 people you want to get to know better”

I got tagged by —> @ricketycr1cks 

Ships:

I ship almost anythinggg but my favorites are macden, neris, elucien, azris, and nesseida

Last song:

A&W by Lana del Rey is on repeat 

Last movie:

Avatar 

Currently reading:

Heir of Fire

Currently watching:

I’m rewatching trailer park boys for the 80th time 

Currently consuming:

Cran raspberry sparkling water

Currently craving:

A cinnamon raisin bagel 

Tagging: 

@looseleaflettuce @tuzna-pesma-snova  @mcdens  @lady-winter-sunrise

[sxtaep]

Hi I’m the “Twisted Games” anon lol! No, this one has to do with Rhys Larsen & Bridget! It’s a princess x bodyguard trope 👀

Honestly, at first I wasn’t a big fan of the book bc I felt that the pacing was way too quick for my liking. However, I’m 2/3 into the book now & I’m actually grateful bc it makes their feelings for each other more realistic plus the YEARNING! And omg Rhys is also very overprotective & VERY possessive so you can already imagine the things he’s saying during the smut scenes 🧎‍♀️🥴 and there’s also angst in this book too 😭 I’ve been listening to “4:14 am” by IV4 throughout the book & ugh the way it relates so much 😭😭 A few scenes are a bit cliche but idc ima live in my fantasies 😤

And omg really? I love sunshine x grumpy duo so I’m excited to read “Twisted Love” after! And wow lol that explains bc they did mention Alex & Ava in the beginning of the book! I heard “Twisted Love” was actually ranked as the best out of the series so yay can’t wait!!

PRINCESS X BODYGUARD TROPE? AHWIFHHWRKNW KILL ME 😩😩😩 i can already imagine what half the chapters in the book are like 🥹 IM SO EXCITED TO READ IT!!

there’s quite a few books with cringe scenes and before i started reading Twisted Love, my friend warned me there’d be one super cringey scene where Alex sings to Ava. NAURRR I CANT EVEN TYPE IT ITS MAKING ME CREASE 💀💀💀 if a man that isn’t any one of bts, and he sings to me… naww i’m walking away 💀😭

OMG WAIT i think Twisted Lies was one of the best apparently. I mean that’s what I’ve seen on tiktok but we all know tiktok is not a reliable source 😭

[pinkmoonmp3]

2020 reading list

hello lovelies! my goal is to read 52 books next year, written by authors that are women/poc/lgbt+. i would love some input for books to read, so if you have any recommendations, please send me an ask! here are the books i have on my list so far:

white teeth - zadie smith

the house of mirth - edith wharton

if beale street could talk - james baldwin

slouching towards bethlehem - joan didion

norwegian wood -  haruki murakami

the awakening - kate chopin

mrs. dalloway - virginia woolf

the brief wondrous life of oscar wao - junot díaz

exit west - mohsin hamid

americanah - chimamanda ngozi adichie

to the lighthouse - virginia woolf

the wind-up bird chronicle - haruki murakami

never let me go - kazuo ishiguro

pride and prejudice - jane austen

little women - louisa may alcott

jane eyre - charlotte bronte 

the handmaid’s tale - margaret atwood 

wuthering heights - emily bronte 

one hundred years of solitude - gabriel garcí­a márquez 

beloved - toni morrison

one day we’ll all be dead and none of this will matter: essays - scaachi koul

the feminine mystique - betty friedan

bad feminist - roxanne gay 

trying to float: coming of age in the chelsea hotel - nicolaia rips

what is not yours is not yours - helen oyeyemi 

boy, snow, bird - helen oyeyemi

on beauty - zadie smith 

her body and other parties - carmen maria machado

the paper menagerie - ken liu

homegoing - yaa gyasi

the mothers - brit bennett 

little weirds - jenny slate

the sympathizer - viet thanh nguyen 

between the world and me - ta-nehisi coates

the farm - joanne ramos 

long live the tribe of fatherless girls - t kira madden

good talk - mira jacob

women talking - miriam toews

the new me - halle butler

the affairs of the falcóns - melissa rivero

gingerbread - helen oyeyemi

queenie - candice carty-williams

normal people - sally rooney 

trick mirror: reflections on self-delusion - jia tolentino

severence - ling ma

with the fire on high - elizabeth acevedo

frankly in love - david yoon

emergency contact - mary h.k. choi

the library of lost things - laura taylor namey 

the remains of the day - kazuo ishiguro

barracoon: the story of the last “black cargo” - zora neale hurston

heart berries - terese marie mailhot

if they come for us - fatimah asghar

the poet x - elizabeth acevedo

the girls - emma cline

the fire next time - james baldwin

the female persuasion: a novel - meg wolitzer

circe - madeline miller

when katie met cassidy - camille perri

laura & emma - kate greathead

the great believers - rebecca makkai

so far so good - ursula k. le guin

play as it lays - joan didion

manhattan beach - jennifer egan

modern lovers - emma straub

if not, winter: fragments of sappho - sappho

i might regret this: essays, drawings, vulnerabilities, and other stuff - abbi jacobson 

paperback crush: the totally radical history of ‘80′s and ‘90s teen fiction - gabrielle moss

conversations with friends - sally rooney 

julie the maniac: a novel - juliet escoria 

brazen: rebel ladies who rocked the world - pénélope bagieu

choose your own disaster - dana schwartz

passing - nella larsen

awayland: stories - ramona ausubel

wide sargasso sea - jean rhys

if, then: a novel - kate hope day 

the mandarins - simone de beauvoir 

the dreamers: a novel - karen thompson walker

pulp - robin talley 

the care and feeding of ravenously hungry girls - anissa gray 

the murmur of bees - sofía segovia

blue nights - joan didion

autobiography of red - anne carson

swing time - zadie smith 

the source of self-regard: selected essays, speeches, and meditations- toni morrison

i’ll give you the sun - jandy nelson

the ninth hour - alice mcdermott

girls burn brighter: a novel - shobha rao

red at the bone - jacqueline woodson

costalegre - courtney maum

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[socalwriterbee]

Thanks for the tag @txemrn! 🥰

Ships: James ‘Hook’ Barrie x Wendy Michaels, Bridget Von Ascheberg x Rhys ‘Crawl to Me’ Larsen, Christian Harper x Stella Alonso, Ash x Embry, Sebastian Garcia x April Bennet (I could keep going. But I’ll stop here)

Last Song: In Case You Didn’t Know

Last Movie: Ant-Man & The Wasp: Quantumania

Currently Reading: The Sweetest Oblivion

Currently Watching: Repeats of Impractical Jokers (really just for some background noise)

Currently Consuming: Coffee

Currently Craving: Pickles, Pickles and more Pickles

“Tag 9 people you want to get to know better”

I got tagged by —> @ricketycr1cks 

Ships:

I ship almost anythinggg but my favorites are macden, neris, elucien, azris, and nesseida

Last song:

A&W by Lana del Rey is on repeat 

Last movie:

Avatar 

Currently reading:

Heir of Fire

Currently watching:

I’m rewatching trailer park boys for the 80th time 

Currently consuming:

Cran raspberry sparkling water

Currently craving:

A cinnamon raisin bagel 

Tagging: 

@looseleaflettuce @tuzna-pesma-snova  @mcdens  @lady-winter-sunrise