#song of the thin man is so boring

[jeanharlowseyebrows]

i was tagged by @maudeboggins to share my 4 fav comfort movies! ty for the tag!

in no particular order, and assuming that "comfort movie" means "movie i like to watch":

anne of green gables 1980s mini-series (not a movie)

fast five (pinnacle of the franchise and also very much a movie)

the thin man series (not one movie but i literally can't choose except for #not song of the thin man 1947)

spirit stallion of the cimarron (perfect no notes)

tagging anyone who would like to share their 4 fav comfort movies <3

[madaqueue]

PUSH AND PULL

something silent and intangible ties you to sukuna, and has for as long as you've known each other. but you can't help but wonder what would happen if you pull on that little red string of fate, bringing him closer than just friends.

pairing: ryomen sukuna x f!reader

themes/content: modern non-curse au, best friends to ???. suggestive/smut. language, pet names (pretty, baby, sweetheart), he calls you a slut but like as a joke, alcohol consumption, semi-public. 18+, MDNI (wc: 2.6k)

It was always just you and Sukuna, for as long as you could remember. Even as kids, the two of you found your home in the corner of the playground after he pushed someone off a swing you wanted to use; in highschool, you etched your names into the desks during some mundane class, landing both of you in detention. He wove his way into your life, and you into his, mending the frayed threads left behind by scissors and rough hands.

So of course neither of you ever dated - you didn’t need anybody else. Nobody would put up with (nor could handle) him and his moods. And you, well, nobody would dare get near you so long as you had him around.

To his credit, it took very little to scare any potential suitors off, oftentimes nothing more than a glare or a firm hand on their shoulder. And he seemed to understand that no one would ever quite compare to you, everyone else too boring, too bland, too pathetic to deserve his attention.

And so, you played along, this little game of pushing and testing and teasing and almost almost almost.

Yet, there was always something in the way, some invisible force keeping you from ever bridging the gap. “Just friends,” you both called it, a name for the insurmountable chasm between you. It was silent, unspoken, but always felt, a magnetic pull that kept you close but never allowed you to touch.

Tonight in particular, at this shitty house party of a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, that pull feels almost tangible, lingering in the hazy air.

Music blares, flashing LEDs illuminating the thin layer of sweat covering both of your bodies. Every thump of the bass electrifies the air, your heartbeat vibrating in tune. Tattooed hands hold your hips firmly against his body, your ass pressed to his pelvis.

You love this song. He loves you loving it.

That smug grin plays across his face, shadows cast by the flickering party lights above making it appear far more sinister to someone who doesn’t know Sukuna. But to you, he’s perfectly content.

When the chorus hits, you bend at the waist, dropping forward and grinding against him. Always such a fucking tease, he thinks as a quiet laugh escapes his lips. His fingertips tighten their hold but he shows no other sign of his sinful desires (he was proud of his restraint, even after all these years).

Bending your knees, the pathetically thin material of your dress rides up just enough that a prouder man would feel obligated to look away. Sukuna, of course, just chuckles as you look over your shoulder.

“You look like a slut.” Bright white teeth shine through his grin.

“At least I can dance,” you retort, hips circling against the front of his jeans. “You look stiffer than a dead guy’s dick.”

Throwing his head back, a laugh overtakes him, seemingly louder than the shitty pop song playing through the speakers. Pink hair catches under the red lights, absolutely electrifying. “Jesus, I forgot how filthy that fuckin’ mouth of yours can get.”

Fully turning around, you press your chest against his, your dress doing little to hide the way your nipples harden at the mild friction. The now-empty cup in your hand dangles at your side as you stand on your toes, lips brushing against his ear. “I’m gonna go get another drink to wash out this ‘filthy fuckin’ mouth,’” you shout over the music.

Instead of verbally responding, Sukuna steps back, slapping your ass as you make your way to the kitchen.

You know, of course, that he wouldn’t let anyone else talk to him the way you do, and you, of course, wouldn’t dare let anyone touch you the way he does (and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone else do it, either).

The kitchen is brighter than the surrounding chaos, your eyes blurry as they adjust. Finding your way to the stash of bottles, you pour yourself some combination of juice and liquor. The fake marble of the table is cold against your skin as you hop onto it, crossing your legs as the liquid hits your lips.

It’s certainly palatable, you shrug.

You bask in the muted silence for a moment before it’s broken by Sukuna’s loud footsteps marching towards you.

He always commanded attention so effortlessly, eyes turning to follow his path. At first you thought it was the visible tattoos lining his skin and notably unnatural hair, but over time you grew to wonder if there was something more innate, something living within his soul that evoked the unyielding focus from those around him.

Ruby eyes lock on yours (surely an effect of the colored LEDs still flashing nearby) as he glides in front of you. Your legs part, dangling over the edge of the countertop as he slots himself between them, arms encircling you.

Placing his palms onto the table behind your waist, the scent of whatever expensive cologne he probably stole this week hangs on his clothes as he leans closer.

“Thought I finally got rid of you when you didn’t come back.” His voice is gravelly, lips pulled into a leering smile.

“Maybe I just finally got sick of dancing with someone who only wants to paw at me,” you chuckle sarcastically. Lifting the cup to your mouth, you take another swig. “And you’re awfully close for someone who smells like shitty beer and sweat.”

“Oh really?”

Before you can respond, his lips are trailing up your neck, his nose pushing your hair to the side as he nuzzles into your skin.

His breath is hot, tickling your earlobe as he lowly whispers, “Well you smell lovely.”

On instinct your legs try to close around him, a desperate attempt to quell the ache growing between them. You hate his stupid fucking voice, his annoying flirting, how he always goes just a little too far pushing your buttons.

But he’s your friend.

(And that’s all you’ll ever be to him, too).

All you can do is chug your drink, hoping the alcohol dampens the racing pulse of your heart.

“Thanks, I actually pay for my perfume, unlike you, you fucking delinquent,” you manage to spit out.

Finally he pulls back, eyes locked on you. There’s an intensity behind them you can’t quite name, but one you’ve grown familiar with.

He’s playing with you.

A low hum vibrates from his throat in response, his gaze traveling down to your lips. “What’re you drinking?”

He changes the subject, as he always does when things threaten to get too serious, too real. Always running away, afraid to face the ever-insistent voice inside him that evokes a pause the moment before he hurls himself over the edge into desire.

You smirk. “Why don’t you try it?”

Bringing the cup to his face, it rests on his lower lip as you tilt it upwards, the saccharine liquid pouring down his throat. His eyes never leave yours as he swallows. A small trail dribbles down his chin while you place the empty plastic cup onto the counter beside you.

“Messy boy,” you coo, tone as falsely sweet as the drink lingering on his lips.

Grabbing his face, you pull him towards you, close enough you can make out the faint freckles decorating his cheeks. You collect the sugary liquor on your tongue as it travels along his skin, slightly rough from his freshly-shaved stubble. When you reach the corner of his mouth, you place a teasing peck before releasing your grasp.

“Someone should really teach you some manners, ‘Kuna.” And that devilish smile spreads across your face.

You see, you can play with him, too.

He stifles the giddy laugh building in his chest as he fixes his gaze back on you. “And someone should teach you how to make a drink, that shit was nasty.”

“You entitled brat,” you snap back, pushing him away with a hand against his chest. “I make excellent drinks, otherwise why else would you end up drunk on my couch every weekend, hm?”

“Maybe I just like the couch’s company,” he grins, dimples poking through the darkened lines spanning his face.

You’re both just staring at each other, waiting for something to happen, for someone to make a move. The air is electric, buzzing with that imperceptible desire.

Fuck it.

Just as you move to lean into him, a noise cuts through the static.

“Sukuna!” someone calls from the depths of the party.

His head whips around before shooting you an almost apologetic glance. “Guess someone else requires my attention.”

“Wouldn’t wanna keep them waiting for everyone’s favorite asshole,” you mock. With a mirrored smack of his ass, you send him away into the chaos surrounding you.

In his absence, your head swirls, overwhelmed with the alcohol and the lights and the sudden heat in your core.

Just friends.

You’re just friends.

Taking in a steadying breath, your hands shake as you pour another drink.

But at what point does it stop being a game? When do you decide to stop playing?

With a sigh you knock it back in one gulp before wandering between the bodies crowding the space.

The rest of the party is all skin and noise. It’s fluid and blurry and utterly debaucherous, the way you throw your arms around your friends, the way your body moves with each increasingly loud and repetitive song.

By the time the next few hours have passed, your feet start to ache as you make your way from the swath of strangers crowding the makeshift DJ booth at the front of the house.

Stumbling towards the back, a familiar voice calls your name.

“Where ya goin’, pretty?”

Sukuna is sprawled across one of the stained couches lining the walls, an unfamiliar girl hanging on his side. Her hands rest across his chest as her eyes cover you disapprovingly, nails digging into his shirt when you refuse to give her an ounce of attention.

“Lookin’ for somewhere to sit down,” you sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“Got a free seat right here,” he smirks, patting his thigh. This fucker.

An angry glare forms along the girl’s face as she stares at you with a displeased grunt. Crossing your arms, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I would, but I wouldn’t wanna interrupt anything.”

Sukuna never even turns towards the girl who now traces her fingertips down his chest. “Nothin’ to interrupt here, baby.”

Exchanging a quick glance at the increasingly unhappy stranger lounged across him, she lets out an annoyed scoff as she rolls her eyes, finally removing herself from Sukuna. Brushing past you, she tries to shove into your shoulder before she misses, tumbling forward and back onto the dance floor.

You can’t help but giggle at the failed show of dominance, your eyes now finding their way back to Sukuna. He pats his thighs again expectantly, eyebrows quirking as he awaits your response.

He’s fucking with you, of course.

But before you know it, you’re standing between his legs. With a small sigh, you seat yourself on his lap, bare legs straddling him. A whisper of mischief dances behind his eyes while his hands make their way to your hips, holding you firmly in place.

“See? Isn’t this much more comfortable?” he taunts.

Heat builds in your core at how low his voice is, the rumbling of thunder just before a storm.

“Mmm,” you hum, letting your dissatisfaction show as you click your tongue. Wrapping your arms easily around his neck, your fingertips absentmindedly trace the lines of his tattoos to where they end at the neckline of his t-shirt. “It’s a bit better, but something’s still missing.”

“Oh yeah?” When he smiles, the lines adorning his skin crease invitingly. “And what’s that, sweetheart?”

You can’t help but grin silently. Because you can fuck with him, too.

Rolling your hips forward, your clothed pussy drags along the outline of his cock. The firm denim of his jeans provides just enough friction to have you stifling a moan. He inhales sharply through his nose, the soft sound cutting through the static noise surrounding you.

“Isn’t that better?” you coo teasingly as his fingertips dig into your waist.

A choked groan leaves his throat, his inability to let you have the upperhand fighting against the sudden desire to pin you down on this shitty couch and fuck you right here. Attempting to shake the thought off, his head falls forward into your neck.

Of course he’s thought about you like that before - you’re gorgeous, fucking hilarious, and somehow just as stubborn as he is. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

But some small part of him worries that the moment he pushes you too far, you’ll run, just like everyone else in his life. He was always too intense, too angry, too much. But not to you - you seemed to love him in spite of it, maybe even because of it.

Maybe that’s why he lets himself play this eternal game of cat and mouse, the push and pull.

But fuck, right now he wants to pull.

He wants to pull you against him, dragging you along the length of his hardening cock through his boxers. He wants to pull you up and down as he fucks into you, feeling your warm walls meld around him. He wants to pull your lips apart with his, tasting how sweet you are, whispering things he wouldn’t dare say to anyone else. Anyone but you.

The words feel heavy on the tip of his tongue. I want you. I want you. I want you. They’re too weighted, he worries. Instead, he settles for biting at your neck, hoping that your skin between his teeth will be enough to satiate his body’s need.

“S-shit,” you stammer at the sensations of his canines digging into your flesh. “Acting like a fuckin’ teething puppy, hm? Need someone to train some manners into you? Or do you want me to tell you to sit, stay, tell you you’re doing a good job?”

And he does. But of course, he’d never tell you that.

Instead, he bites harder, leaving dark bruises in his wake, a reminder of his mark on you.

As his lips trace up your neck, he pauses to nibble along your earlobe. “Just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” he whispers, his breath hot. “Wouldn’t want anyone taking what’s mine.”

You nearly whimper at the words - his? - but you manage to hold back, instead letting your neediness out with another circle of your hips. He hopes you miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the movement.

“Oh? I’m yours now?” you tease, silently pleading he doesn’t notice the lingering waver in your voice. “Quite possessive, don’t you think, ‘Kuna?”

You feel him chuckle more than you hear it, the warm puffs of air gently blowing against your hair. “I’m only possessive of things I want,” he growls. God, you always loved that rasp in his voice, like a gravel road lining the way home.

At this point, you’re sure your panties are soaked through, the tip of his cock dragging along your clit through them. You’ve never gone this far with him before, never been so bold, so desperate.

And he fucking loves it.

“And what do you want?” Your voice is airy, breathless, as your pace seems to pick up. You’re grateful for the dim LEDs flashing distantly from the depths of the party for hiding the blush undoubtedly dusting your cheeks.

Trailing wet kisses along your jawline, his mouth comes to rest just in front of you. His lips are soft, barely brushing against yours, a few millimeters apart. So close. So fucking close.

“I think it’s rather obvious.” His breath smells like liquor and desire as he whispers, “I want you.”

a/n: getting out of my writing slump by going back to my roots (wanting to fuck sukuna)

[ghostssimp]

Aegon Targaryen//The Right One

As a daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you were supposed to find a man who would take your hand in marrige. It's your duty to be wed away. Your grandfather Viserys, he made a royal gathering to find the best suitor for you.

The real problem is, you had one in your eyes.

Aegon Targaryen. Your uncle. It looked like history was repeating itself, thinking how your mother fell for Daemon. Targaryens always had traditions that others found weird, but to keep the blood pure, sometimes you have to do what you have to do. Even Alicent, who first was against it, was thinking of marrige between Aegon and Haelena. In the end, Haelena got married to Aemond.

As you stand in the corner of the room, you see how a lot of men are having their eyes on you. Eating ypu with the looks of desire and need for power. You were just a pawn to them. Greedy bastards only wanted to have a little part in the game of getting closer to the crown. The sad truth is that they had no idea what it meant to be on the top.

You're always watched. Can't have a moment for yourself. Every step that you take is carefully watched by everyone. Every desicion is important and there is no place for mistakes. And as for women? You knew you were here for them to just spread your legs and give them a new heir. They didn't care for you. They didn't want you for love. Just to use you.

"Pretty boring out here, isn't it princess?" There is a low voice next to your ear and you can't help but smile as shiver runs down your spine. "I should be honored, my prince." Your eyes met his lilac. "After all, this is for my engagement."

Aegon scoffs, his eyes scanning the place. "Yes, but to whom?" His eyebrow rises as he takes a step closer, brushing the lock of hair from your face. "Neither of them are worthy of you."

Your breath hitched as your lips parted for a bit."And who is it then? I am nothing but a tool." Aegon looks at you, something battleing inside of his eyes. They always seemed distant, but when he talked to you, it felt like everything made sense back.

You were the only one to understand his pain. To understand his preassure. Who said he wanted to be a damn king as his mother was expecting him to be? Who said he wanted this life? His mother was always preaparing him for the big role he didn't wanted. To hell, his father didn't even look at him and he had to be ready to be a king?

"You are so much more than that." His fingers grazed beneath your chin, barely touching it leaving a ghost feeling underneath. His thumb crosses over your lips. The feeling of his rough skin on your soft lips made you feel like it was supposed to be like that. For your lips to belong to him. To any part of him. He glanced away, clenching his jaw. He was in a deep thought as he walked off.

Your eyes follow him as he gets lost in a crowd. You felt like you should've ran after him. You wanted to, but you were sceptic.

"Why is such a lady standing alone?" My head turns to see one of the lords over. Tyland Lannister. You never liked Lannisters. In your eyes, they were just a one more pawn that wanted to become a closer to a king. Maybe even to become a king.

"Just enjoying the gathering, my lord." You give him a polite smile. You didn't want to engage the conversation, but he seemed too interested in you. "Well, the night is long, and the songs are delightfull like you. Would you give me an honor, and give me your hand for a dance?" He chuckled extending his hand out.

You clench your jaw your lips in a thin line. "I really don't feel like dancing, my lord." His face changed to a frown. "Oh, am I not worth of a dance with your grace?" Something bubbled in you with his words. Anger, for him to use a guilt card. You didn't want to make a scene. You were a royalty afer all.

"That is not what I said, my lord." You take his hand. "Of course I would like to dance." There was a smug smile on his lips. You knew what he wanted. His grip got more like a possesive one as he pulled you onto the dance floor. His other hand held the small of your back. It felt like he was holding you too tight. Like he held you with greed.

Despite you trying to hide your discomfort, Tyland pulls you even closer and held you tightly to him. The two of you danced in a dead silence. You started to look around the place, trying to find someone to save you. To get you away. Your eyes searching around, it seemed like you were looking for a specific person. "Something is on your mind, princess?"

You look up to him giving him a fake sweet smile. "Not at all." When you look away, your eyes finally meet his with a pleading look in them. Aegon as soon as he catched your eye, stopped in his tracks and seemed to process the situation. He starts to make his way towards you, his eyes never leaving yours.

As Tyland takes you in for a spin, you extend your hand and Aegon takes it pulling you away and swaying off with you in a dance.

Aegon seemed proud with a smug smirk on his lips. "Tief." You say under your breath, feeling how he held you much more gentle as the two of you took off in a dance.

Aegon laughs heartly at your statement shaking his head. "You seemed like you needed rescuing." You nod your head, gazing up at him."You stole my heart, you stole me from my dancing partner. What is next?"

Aegon grins at your words, enjoying the playful banter between you. He spins you around, pulling you back against him as you continue the dance.

"I'm a greedy man, my princess," he says with a smirk, his hand on your back slipping lower for just a moment before resuming its usual position. "I'll steal whatever I can get my hands on."

His eyes never left yours. There was a glint of something in them. "Stop looking at me like that."

Aegon raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider at your words. "Like what?" He asks innocently, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him. You have to bite the smile that wanted to escape your lips. "Like I'm a dinner."

"Oh, believe me, my princess, you're a feast fit for a king." He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And I'd happily devour every last bit of you." He pulls you impossibly closer, his hold on you possessive but tender at the same time. "Can you blame me for admiring you so? You're far too captivating to ignore." A chuckle escapes your lips.

"Va moriot gīmigon se paktot udir, gaomagon ao daor?" You're always finding the right words, aren't you? His eyes glanced down to your lips as he leaned his head to the side. He hums, you knew he enjoyed when you switched to Valyrian."Ñuha jorrāelagon, you're going to be a death to me." His voice just above a whisper. it was raspy and deep as you look at him in a haze through your lashes.

He leans in closer, his own eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting yours again, a mix of fondness and desire in his expression. "You keep looking at me like that, and I'll have to claim my future wife right here and then." He mumurs softly.

Your lips part in a shock. "Since when am I your future wife?" He smirks smugly, pulling you in, his face just inches away from yours.

"Since now. I'm not letting anyone else claim you. You're mine to have."

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter III: Dreams 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You miss Aemond, yet you can’t stand to be near him. Will performing a new song about your separation make you feel better?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive Aemond, fighting, smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, thigh riding, P in V, thumb in bum, spit kink, degradation

Word count: 5750 A/N: Thank you always my love @theoneeyedprince ♡

“This is the third day in a row that guy comes in here, orders a coffee, and pretends to work on his laptop as he stares at you”, Alysanne whispers in your ear and points to the silver haired man sitting in the back corner of the campus coffee shop. 

He’s clad entirely in black, and his long hair is neatly tied in a low bun at the base of his neck. 

“You should go talk to him!”, she urges with a gentle push on your shoulder. 

“What? No. He’s not been staring at me”, you shut her nonsense down, slightly embarrassed by your friend's pushiness. Alysanne is such a hopeless romantic; always convinced that the love of your life’s lurking around the next corner, constantly looking for a ‘meet cute’ to thrust you into. 

“Oh, come on! He’s definitely been checking you out! Maybe he’s just shy?”, she argues, staring at the stranger unabashedly as he sips his coffee. Her lack of discretion fuels the nerves bubbling inside you, eager to end this embarrassing conversation as soon as possible. 

“Aly, please. A guy like that doesn’t get shy. Typical rich fuckboy”

He certainly is good-looking, and probably knows it as well, dark designer clothes a stark contrast to the surrounding patron’s jeans and sweatshirts. He looks to be around your age, a student as well, you’d guess. 

Alysanne hums in response, moves to stand by the display of sweets by the register, and places a cinnamon bun on one of the small dishes stacked on the counter. 

Before your protests stop her, she walks towards where the stranger is sitting, a wide smile plastered on her face, 

“Hi there! My lovely friend and coworker over there made these earlier today. Would you like one?” 

Her voice is unnaturally cheery as she places the dish on the table next to the stranger's laptop. 

He looks up, nods stiffly in confirmation, and quietly mumbles a “thank you” before quickly returning to type on the keyboard, eyes again on the screen. 

“Would you like to talk to her? I can ask her to come over here”, Alysanne offers, voice still upbeat, so energetic it nearly comes across as intrusive.   

The stranger seems slightly thrown off by her forwardness. He looks up at her in surprise, but stays silent. 

To anyone else, his stoicism and unfriendly demeanour would be enough reason to leave him be. But not Alysanne, who turns around to catch your eye and gesticulates for you to come over with an exaggerated wave of her hand. 

From behind the register, you’d watched the scene unfold in horror, certain that your friend would embarrass you to the point where ‘rich fuckboy’ would tell everyone on campus about what a freak you are. 

You slowly make your way over, eyes boring holes into Alysanne as you force yourself to smile, dreading the inevitable faked  niceties you’ll have to exchange with the strange, silver-haired man. 

His face is even prettier up-close. 

High cheekbones, strong jawline, sharp nose, beautiful eye- 

Your gaze stops at his left eye. The baby blue iris is covered by a thin mist of white, and a red, angry scar slashes through the socket, starting at his forehead and ending at cheekbone. 

“Hope you like it”, you blurt out, trying to grab Alysanne’s hand and tug her away from the unbelievably awkward interaction. She’s still smiling, dodging your hand while her attention stays on the stranger in front of you, 

“Would you like her number?”

Alysanne persistence causes dread to pool in your gut. God, she could be so forward it was disturbing; completely ignoring what you thought to be common social decency. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest as the stranger hums at your friend’s question, 

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about the open mic last week. Did you write that song?” 

“‘Planets of the Universe’? Um, yes, but it’s not really finished, um, I mean, I just sang it for fun, I was kinda drunk last Friday..”

Your babbling reflects how the stranger makes you feel; nervous and unsure. His face is impassive, and his tone so unemotional it borders on stern. 

You only performed that silly song because your friends were pushy and you were buzzing on way too many margaritas. Why does he care about who wrote it? 

“You’re not a guitarist, I assume?”, he asks and you notice the corners of his lips briefly turn upwards, as if to prevent a smile from breaking out. 

God, the audacity of this rich fuckboy. 

“No, but like I said, it was just for fun”, you bite back. 

You don’t care for his condescending tone, or his efforts to make you feel bad about your sub-par guitar skills. Does he not understand what ‘just for fun’ means? 

The stranger’s gaze is still locked on you as he hums in response. He stares with an intensity that leaves you feeling even more unsettled. 

“You’ve got a very unique voice” 

The unexpected compliment takes you by surprise, and a warmth spreads over your face; heating up your cheeks. 

“My siblings and I play a bit of music on the side, for fun” he says with an emphasis on the last part, mimicking you, “I think your voice would go well with the sound we’re trying to create”

He sounds very matter-of-fact, like he’s offering you a business proposal. You notice something shine in his intense gaze; something inviting that makes it hard for you to concentrate on what he says. 

“The song you performed has great potential, with a proper guitarist backing you up, that is. If you’re interested, we’re meeting up tomorrow night” 

You’re briefly lost for words, not expecting him to be so forward. Alysanne is practically vibrating with excitement next to you, glancing over at you with a wide smile and big, expectant eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll stop by after work” 

Your infatuation with Aemond started slow. 

Essentially, it was the small things he did that pushed you to the realisation that he isn’t just some ‘rick fuckboy’, but a quite caring and sensitive man. Albeit with a layer of stoicism obscuring his more tender side. 

Things like him insisting that he needs to walk you home after band practice, even if it’s still bright outside. Or him picking you up in his car when it rains, so you ‘don’t catch a cold’. Or him offering to help you with coursework, surprising you with detailed, hand-written notes tucked in between the pages of your textbook. 

Aemond is caring in such a genuine way, always asking you how your studies are going, how work at the campus cafe is like, if you’d eaten anything. Always straight-to-the-point. And when you answer, he listens to you with such intensity, you’d think whatever comes out of your mouth is of grave importance. For the most part, it’s not. 

You soon find yourself looking forward to seeing him, heart skipping a beat every time he picks you up after you've finished your shift at the cafe. He always waited outside of the cafe, observing you tidying up through the shop window with a cigarette glowing between his fingers. 

When he asks you one day if you’d like to grab dinner after practice, you eagerly accept his invitation, trying your hardest to hide the excitement you feel as he says a quick goodbye to his brother and sister before leading you out of the studio you used for practice. 

It’s not a date, not really, yet when you sit next to Aemond in that dimly lit booth at the rather posh Yi-Ti-inspired restaurant he’d picked, it sure feels like one. 

That night, after sharing a bottle of wine, your face is warm and you’re filled with alcohol-infused confidence. As you talk animatedly about your favourite musician, Aemond regards you with a small smile playing on his lips, eyes intensely meeting yours to take in all your telling him. You feel a sudden urge to kiss him, and though it is chaste and unplanned; a result of your slight intoxication, you feel mortified as you pull back, ready to apologise for placing your lips on his without consent. Before you have a chance, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls your face back towards his, kissing you passionately, though his lips are soft and gentle. 

As you pull away, eyes still closed and mind lost in the bliss of your first kiss, you hear Aemond murmur a quiet “finally”. 

As a partner, Aemond seems to study you just as diligently as he studies everything else. 

He quickly picks up on your favourite things.  

If you’d been admiring a particular flower when you passed by the flower shop on your way to campus, you’d later find a bouquet waiting for you at home. When you went to museums and exhibitions together, he’d lean in next to you, one hand gently on your waist and soft lips right by your ear, and tell you everything he knew about the artist or artwork in front of you. Later, he’d buy you postcards of the paintings you’d shown particular fascination with, so you could decorate your bedroom wall with them. 

Though he claimed that his knowledge of the arts simply stemmed from being a history major, explaining that “art is one of the greatest insights we have to previous decades”, you have a strong suspicion he actually knows so much because there’s a secret love for the arts tucked away inside him, where he keeps the more sensitive parts of his soul. 

Sometimes you’re privy to that too. 

Like the time he wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant downtown to celebrate your six month anniversary. Being a student, you didn’t really have money to spend on anything besides rent and food, meaning that you hadn’t been able to reciprocate the lovely gifts Aemond had given you since you first got together. 

Determined to give him something meaningful, you purchase a small frame from the local charity shop, print out some pictures you’d taken together from the university library, and put together a little collage of your time as a couple. 

You include a message on the back of it, thanking him for everything he’s done for you; for being such a caring boyfriend. 

As you timidly hand him your homemade gift at the luxurious restaurant, you feel a storm of unease swirl within you, suddenly overcome with embarrassment that you couldn’t get him anything nicer. 

Aemond’s eyes light up in a way you’d hardly seen before. 

He turns the gift over in his hand, admiring the photo collage and reading the little message on the back. 

Grabbing your hand, he looks into your eyes and says a quiet “thank you”, and the gravity and sincerity of his voice lets you know that he appreciates the simple gift more than he can put into words. 

The coming week you stick to the same set list; kicking off each performance with ‘The Chain’ and finishing with ‘Go Your Own Way’. You’d like to pretend that the performances got easier as time went on, but that would be a lie. 

Each night, you’re forced to sing Aemond’s self-pitying words; ‘if I could, I’d give you my world’. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes each time. What made him incapable of ‘giving you his world’ when you were married? He made it sound like he had no part in your divorce; like all he did was try and love you while you broke his heart. 

Fuck that. 

He broke your heart. And he kept breaking it. Every fucking night he made you sing his martyr complex bullshit. 

It wasn’t anything new, not really. This is how it so often went when you fought as a married couple, it had just taken a new form. The bones of it are the same; Aemond is upset and shuts you out, you try to reason with him and get burnt. 

There’s something about his attitude when you find yourselves in a fight. He could turn so condescending, berating you for your emotions. Like he’s better than you for not letting them get the best of him; for not shouting or crying. 

He thinks showing that something hurts him is a sign of weakness. That he’s too smart to let his insecurities and doubts overtake his senses. So he can pretend he doesn’t feel such unbecoming emotions. 

Even when they prove too strong to push down. 

Aemond has been quiet for the entire trip back home, jaw shut tight and eyes refusing to meet yours. 

You know something’s off in the way his usual stoicism doesn’t feel natural, but forced. He’s holding something back, keeping something from you, and you can’t figure it out for the life of you. 

As you enter your flat, he finally breaks the silence. 

“Did you like that?”

His voice is colder than you’re used to. You recognise the tone though, from when he’s had enough of Aegon’s endless shenanigans. 

You step out of your heels and turn around to face him, “Like what? The party?”

His face is set in a frown and he irritably clicks his tongue at your obliviousness, 

“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb” 

You really have no idea what could’ve prompted his sour mood, so you stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. You don’t feel like playing these games with him; they won’t lead anywhere. 

If he’d just tell you what made him upset, you could solve the issue and move on.  

He sighs at the lack of answer, “You liked all that attention, didn’t you?”  

Oh. 

He’s jealous. 

“Oh come on, Aemond, this is great for the band! We’re getting recognition! We’re recording our first album!”

You don’t want him to rob you off the excitement you’d felt today, talking to one of Westeros biggest record labels and finally getting the recognition you’d worked so hard for. 

He turns to face you, features still stern as he backs you into the wall, 

“But did you like it? The way that guy from the record label was eyeing you?”, he asks again. 

You know Aemond has a tendency to get protective of you; fussing over you and insisting that you listen to him. And when he’s caring, and when you feel anxious, it feels comforting to have someone protect you so fiercely. But you’re not a child, and he doesn’t have to treat you as one. 

“Why would I like it?”

Your challenge makes him move closer. You see the way his pupil is blown wide, the heat in his gaze radiating off him. 

“I think you did. I think you enjoy the attention”

It’s almost laughable; the fact that Aemond Targaryen, undoubtedly one of the most alluring people you’ve ever met, feels threatened by some sleazy guy from a record label. How could he think some guy flirting with you would affect your affection for him even in the slightest? 

Still, there’s something intriguing about the dark look in his eye. It’s so passionate; the way he observes you. Like he wants to devour you. Punish you. Claim you. 

It sparks something alight inside you. You want to match his fire.  

“Maybe I did”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a smirk from breaking out. Will he fall for the provocation? 

Aemond’s eyes narrow. They travel from your face down to your body, and his arms come up to cage you against the wall of your hallway, 

“You like tormenting me, is that it?”, he asks lowly and presses the tip of his nose to the side of your face, trailing it down your cheek. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, lowering your lips to press kisses onto his neck, 

“Yes”, you say against his skin, a light chuckle escaping your lips. 

It’s almost cute when he gets like this, and so flattering in the most twisted way. He’s just as enchanted by you as you are by him. 

He startles you by pulling away, grabbing you by your waist and flipping your body so you’re suddenly facing the wall. 

He rucks up the short skirt of your cocktail dress with much more force than necessary and a firm smack lands on your ass. The sudden sting of pain makes you inhale sharply and you feel your pulse elevate with excitement.  

Behind you, Aemond drops to his knees, kisses your stinging backside, and pulls at the flimsy material of your thong until it tears in two, falling to the floor. 

His insatiable display causes desire to pulse within you; an ache that nestles itself between your thighs and beats as fast as your heart. 

Pushing on your lower back, he urges you to lean forward as he continues to soothe the aching flesh of your ass with sweet kisses. 

The chill air of the room feels strange against your hot, wet cunt, and you wish he’d touch you in the place you needed him most. The place that painfully pounds with want for him. 

As if he could read your mind, Aemond grabs the front of your thighs with his large, warm hands and he presses his face against your exposed cunt, unwilling to waste any more time as he swipes his tongue over your swollen clit. 

You moan in gratitude and your forehead falls to make contact with the wall in front of you, the sweat of your forehead sticking to the cool surface. 

He knows exactly how to work you; how to make you squirm and tense up and reach your peak in no time. 

With each movement of his tongue against your clit, you feel your peak grow closer; an embarrassingly fast release only your beloved could elicit. 

As you lose yourself in the pleasure, and your hips begin to move in tandem with Aemond’s tongue, his debauched kisses lessen, and he pulls away from your cunt, wiping his sticky face against the back of your thigh. 

You let out a frustrated whine, turn around to face him, and look down at him, still on his knees. 

“That’s just cruel, Aemond”

He looks so beautiful kneeling in front of you, long hair dishevelled and cheeks flustered pink. 

“Maybe I like tormenting you as well”

He still has that darkness dancing in his eyes, but now accompanied by the playful grin that’s spreading across his face. He stands, leans in so closely your body gets pushed against the wall behind you, and places one of his legs between your naked thighs, 

“Beg me to fuck you”

He rocks his jeans-clad thigh against your exposed core as he makes his demand; blue colour quickly darkening from the stain of your arousal. 

You throw your head back and moan at the pleasurable friction, the harshness of the fabric providing wonderful relief to your aching clit. Your hips quickly meet the rhythm of his thigh, and when he lowers his face to bite at your nipple through the thin material of your dress, you feel your previously denied release approach once more. 

You move yourself more forcefully against his thigh, and as your movements turn sloppy from pleasure tightening inside you, he pulls away yet again.  

You know you look like a mess with your hair frizzy from the friction of the wall, spit covering the fabric over your nipple, and the lower part of your body fully exposed; inner thighs sticky from arousal. 

“Aemond, please”, you whine as he straightens up, face wholly entertained by your miserable state. 

“Beg me to fuck you”, he repeats, this time slower and with emphasis on each word. 

You bite your lip and look at him. You can see the hardness of his cock straining against his jeans, but you know he’ll never relent; never give you what you want until you give him what he wants. 

“Please”, you plead, hands moving forward his zipper to undo his trousers. 

He tuts and slaps your hands away, 

“Beg”, he repeats, face returning to its previous, stern expression. 

You’d like to think you’re as good as him at playing these games. But you’re not. You don’t have the patience. 

“Please fuck me Aemond. Please make me come, please make me feel good, please stretch me out on your cock, please-” 

Your pathetic surrender is cut off by his lips on yours, kissing you passionately, stealing your breath. 

Pulling down his zipper, he takes his length in hand; rock hard and glistening with arousal. He pushes your body up against the wall and you quickly catch on, wrapping your legs around him as he enters you in one swift motion. 

“Fuck! Thank you!”, you cry out when he finally gives you what you want, and an amused snort espaces his nose. 

Aemond wastes no time in ravishing you and sets a brutal pace, pelvis repeatedly hitting your clit as his cock hits your g-spot. You’re unable to do much more than to just take it; take the mind-numbing pleasure he’s forcing upon you. 

For the third time, your peak is within reach, so close your cunt starts to tighten around Aemond’s cock. To your dismay, his pace slows, and you’re back to begging,  

“Please, I’m so close. Please let me come Aemond”

He pulls out, smiles at the devastated frown on your face, and turns you around once more. 

This time, he presses your body against the small side table by the front door, pushing his hand on the back of your head so that the side of your face makes contact with the wooden surface, ass prettily propped up and glistening entrance waiting for him. 

He presses the slick tip of his cock against your leaking hole, and pauses without entering. His large form looms over you as his hand reaches for your face, thumb stroking your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth, 

“Who do you belong to?”

His voice is lower, and calmer, than before. You look up at him; at his lust-filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips. 

You. Always you.

“You” 

Aemond’s thumb is still on your lower lip. He leans down and pushes his length fully into you again, making you let out a cry in blissful relief. 

God it feels so good. 

You see him purse his lips together, spit collecting between them, and he slowly lets it drip down to where his thumb is. 

Onto your lower lip, your tongue, your teeth. 

He smears his spit around your lips and tongue with his thumb, pace of his hips picking up to thrust into you harder. The table beneath you rocks against the wall aggressively loud. 

“Would you let anyone else fuck you like this?”, he asks, trailing his spit-soaked thumb down your body, stopping between your asscheeks to push at your puckered hole. “Never”, you assure, moaning as he pushes his thumb in, never ceasing the pace he’s set as he fucks you on the table. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little slut. Mine. No one else will ever see you as fucking cockdrunk as I do”

Maybe it’s the heat of his tone. The dark, possessive passion that excites you, even in its volatility. 

Maybe it’s the way he knows your body. How he can turn you into a begging, pathetic mess by the briefest of touches. 

It’s hard to decipher what makes your orgasm feel so utterly consuming, but when it hits, and your body shakes from the force of it, you know that no one else will ever have this effect on you. 

You. Always you.

You’ve made it a habit to go back to your hotel room between the sound check and the show, not able to bear spending more time around Aemond than absolutely necessary. 

Both of you had tried to keep up with the cordial act, but even Erryk had started to catch on to how forced each of your interactions felt. Whenever you or Aemond addressed the other, everyone around you tense up and the air feels thick; like you’re all just waiting for what’s bubbling beneath the surface to finally erupt. 

Tonight, as you’re getting ready for the tour’s fifth stop in White Harbor, no amount of breathing exercises seem to lessen your nerves, making your hands clammy and heart flimmer in anxious anticipation. 

You’re finally going to perform one of your new songs for Rumours. 

What if the fans hate it? 

Writing has helped you deal with the aftermath of your separation; a tedious effort to make the painful end of your relationship into something meaningful. A song about lost love. 

What if it sounds awful live? 

Recording separately means that this will be the first time the band actually plays the song, as opposed to each member recording their own part in solitude. 

The song sounded good in post-production. It’ll sound great live too.

You try to repeat the comforting phrase to yourself as you spot Aemond and Alys in your peripheral vision; her arms around his neck, his lips coming down to brush against her cheek. 

You don’t know if you’d rather barf or cry at the display, but when Aemond’s seeing eye briefly searches for yours, your stomach turns in disgust.

The intro of your new song starts to play; upbeat drums accompanied by a melancholic guitar melody. Aemond plays it flawlessly, just like you knew he would.

This is it. Your time to shine; to actualise the pain that’s been wearing you down for the past months. To make it into something that means something. 

Your music.

‘Now there you go again, you say, you want your freedom’

‘Well who am I to keep you down?’ 

You don’t want to look at Aemond, don’t want to mimic the staring contest he challenges you to each time he sings ‘The Chain’ or ‘Go Your Own Way’. 

You’re not doing this for him, you’re doing this for yourself. To make sense of the suffering he’s caused you. You’re doing it for the fans; all those who can resonate with what you’re singing.

‘But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness’

‘Like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Oh but gods, do you want to throw him a quick glance though. 

See hurt in his eye. 

See his jaw tick in anger at your words. 

‘Thunder only happens when it’s raining’ 

‘Players only love you when they’re playing’ 

Now you understand why he wanted you to do backup vocals on his new songs. You feel so powerful as you make him sing your lyrics, a sudden rush of hubris getting the best of you as you steal a glance of him.

‘They say women, they will come and they will go’

‘When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know’ 

You’re disappointed to find him in his usual state, stoic face turned away from you.

The recent rage-filled, passionate tone his voice had adopted is gone. He sounds just as calm and precise as he usually does. 

‘Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision’

‘I keep my visions to myself’

‘It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams’

‘Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?’

‘Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad’

‘In the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Like the previous nights, you’re in a rush to get back to your hotel room as soon as the show ends. 

As are your bandmates; no one really enjoys the tension that seems to be a permanent feature whenever you are all in the same room. 

As you’re about to jump into a taxi with Helaena outside of the venue, you realise that you forgot the tote bag you keep your notebooks and music sheets in backstage. You tell her to go ahead and quickly make your way back to retrieve your forgotten bag. 

A security guard lets you back in and you spot your tote immediately, laying on one of the many cheap fold-out tables lining the walls of the room. As you make your way towards it, you hear someone clear their throat in the other corner of the room. 

You’ve no idea what he wants, but you turn around in an instance, leaving your bag on the table. 

Aemond is sitting by himself in a dark corner of the large room, stomping out a cigarette onto the silver ashtray he's holding in his left hand. He places it on the ground and leans back in his seat, 

“I never said that, you know”. 

His voice is low. He sounds tired. 

“Said what?”

You’re still sadistically disappointed by the fact that he’d acted so indifferent during your performance of ‘Dreams’, and it reflects in your voice. He has a talent of bringing it out of you.

“I never said ‘women come and go’, or whatever. The reporter said it” 

His voice grows more irksome with each word, matching yours. 

Sure, he hadn’t said it. But he might as well have. 

“Whatever, Aemond”, you sigh, too tired to engage in pointless discussion with him. You turn to leave, reaching for your bag, but he stops you once again,  

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t perform that song again”.

You let out a startled, joy-less laugh at his audacity, “Too bad”

“Then change the lyrics. It’s obviously about our… relationship” 

You can sense strain in his voice. He’s holding something back.

Maybe you finally got to him.

“So are your new songs”, you counter. 

He is such a hypocrite, it’s almost laughable. An unbecoming characteristic of his that reared its ugly head more frequently as your relationship got worse. 

“I never say they are though. You’re quoting me, hard to assume it could be about anyone else”

His voice is low and dark, you have to focus to properly hear him. 

“Thought you didn’t say that?”

You have to bite the inside of your lower lip to keep yourself from grinning as you add, 

“Maybe the song is about the reporter?” 

The provocation works. Aemond swiftly stands up, seeing eye dark and threatening as his voice grows louder, 

“My songs aren’t filled with blatant lies, you’re calling me names and shit” 

His nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily, hand flexing in an attempt to stifle his rage. 

You’d got to him. 

“You can’t be for real, Aemond! Every fucking time you perform your new songs you're staring at me on stage, singing about how I can ‘go my own, lonely way’! You have no right dictating what I write or how I express myself”. 

He’d gotten to you too. You can’t hide your irritation any longer, a whole week being in his insufferable presence proving to be too much.  

It’s his turn to throw a condescending laugh your way. 

“Well, you’re the one who kept going on about how lonely you were”

Back when you were still together, when the fights had became a permanent, unavoidable recurrence, you had accused Aemond of never truly letting you in, leaving you feeling lonely in your relationship. 

But there’s a difference between feeling disconnected from your partner, and being unable to be on your own. 

“You couldn’t be alone for a second, Aemond, that’s how fucking lonely you are. How long did it take you to hook up with Alys? 3 days!?”

“Because you left me!”, he shouts back. 

And there it is; the anger that he pretends he doesn't have within himself. The ugly, raw emotion he thinks he’s too good to let overtake his senses. 

His voice isn’t cold anymore. 

His face isn’t indifferent. 

His eyes shine with heartbreak, but so do yours. 

“You chased me away with your fucking obsessive behaviour! You deserved to be left!” 

Sometimes when you fought when you were married, you’d hold yourself back, still trying to protect Aemond’s feelings to some degree by not purposefully hurting him just because you were angry. 

Not anymore. 

He grimaces slightly at your words and you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

He deserves it. 

You can’t bear to look at him, and you can’t hear anything either, heartbeat thumping in your ears so loudly it’s giving you a headache. 

If you stay, and see that the fire in his eye has been extinguished by regret, you might cave in. 

You can’t. 

So you turn around, grab your bag in a haste and storm out of the door, rushing to get hold of a taxi on the busy street by the venue. 

You hold it together in the car ride to the hotel. You thank the driver and offer him a tip, you enter the building and go to the elevator, smile at an elderly couple who engage you in some polite smalltalk about the weather. 

It’s not until you enter your hotel room and lock the door behind you that you allow the tears to fall. 

They seem endless, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. 

Seeing the empty space, the empty bed, makes you feel so lonely a stinging pain goes through your chest. You're pulled back to the memories of living with Aemond, coming back home to him; sleeping in the same bed as him. 

You miss him so much it hurts. Not the person you’d just had a fight with backstage. You miss the Aemond he was before; your Aemond. 

You think about the Aemond in the museum, who’d tell you about the history of the Water Gardens and Prince Maron Martell.

You think about the Aemond that kissed your forehead before each show. 

You think about the Aemond that loved you. 

You go to your closet, stretch your arm all the way to the back, and search for what you know to be there. Your hand finds the soft sweatshirt and you pull it out from the dark corners of your hotel room closet, quickly pulling off all of your clothes until you’re standing in nothing but your underwear. 

Aemond’s uni hoodie still smells like him. You cry harder, uglier, as you put it on, burying your nose in the fabric and inhaling deeply. 

Maybe the Aemond you miss still exists in your dreams. 

You get under the duvet, nose still nuzzled in the soft fabric and body shaking from the violent sobs leaving your body, and fall asleep.

A/N: Before you ask, no. She doesn’t know if Aemond met Alys exactly three days after their separation. She’s exaggerating for emphasis, as one often does when fighting. The point is that he “moved on” suspiciously fast.

Planets of the Universe is a demo song that never made it onto Rumours, but it so good; very raw and real. TY for reading 🩵

[just-some-user-hunny]

Platonic! Yandere Daemon as your father...

. Daemon is proud of his blood. The moment he heard of a child that bore striking resemblance to his features, he immediately set out to reclaim what was his. He cared little for the woman who he shared a bed with, you were his child. He cares little for your bastard heritage, as long as you were his, he wanted you.

. The moment he sets his cold steel eyes upon your little form, he grew entranced. So this is the little one he's heard so much about. he wastes no time scooping you up and tucking you under his arm, trudging back to his sneering red beast as you wail and kick. The sooner he gets you home, the better. Your fight almost amuses him, a feeling warming in his chest that he has another firey daughter to call his own. Baela and laena will love you.

. Now obviously Daemon is not a man of... Honour, so to speak. You already had a heavy inkling since he kidnapped you, but learning about his disastrous and odd relationships with other women, it only digs the hole of contempt deeper. The older you grow, the more you understand. The concepts clear, the ones that held no weight or comprehension to your young troubled mind holding clarity and meaning. It's safe to say whatever bond he yearns for is all but doomed attempts. Still, he pushes and pushes. He'll keep you pinned under his thumb for as long as he can, at any cost.

. It's a strong chance that he may not want you to have a dragon of your own. A dragon meant freedom. Power. Something he felt you had no need for, you have a whole castle of Dragonriders who will defend you to their last breath after all. Why need one? Besides, Ceraxes is right here. He'll probably encourage you to rely on Ceraxes or Syrax the most. If you want dragons, they are at your disposal. If you were to gain a dragon, he'd be disgruntled at best, passive aggressive at worst.

. He is not around often, due to his little side quests and whatnot. What keeps him fairly calm is knowing that you're in safe hands within the secure walls of dragonstone. Rhaenary adores you like her own, and you are often kept distracted with toys and books and dresses and dragons to your hearts content. As long as you stay within the castle, he doesn't mind you all too much.

He does however have passive aggressiveness towards his nephew, Aegon, with his ill treatment of you. At some point Daemon probably encourages you to wack the boy back, yes, with that heavy book right there... Probably followed by a snide little chuckle as Alicent can only silently hold her tongue in discontent.

. Ceraxes is just as transfixed with you. He's a nosy dragon around you, fixing you with wide eyed glares that seem to drink your existence in, imposing and domineering. However he sings and chirps in your presence, purring happily to see you. Daemon will try to take you on as many dragon rides with you as possible as a child, wanting to find something to do to spend time with you. Something mutual, despite the unequal power balance. You love dragons, and your princely father has a dragon. A beautiful dragon. A serpentine dragon of blood red scales and filled with song. Come now, sweetling. Don't you like ceraxes? He loves you. Dry your eyes and hurry along. Look, he's added an extra harness to the saddle just for you.

Now when you do agree to ride, albeit a little dishearteningly, Daemon is truly happy. His smile is slight and thin, but his eyes speak all. Ceraxes will purr in his shrill song, pressing himself low to the floor as your father lifts you up to sit upon the saddle. Daemon can ignore your pouting quite contently.

. Baela and rhaena are your fond half-sisters, who often feel like your only rocks amidst the storm you've been dragged into. They are protective and patient with you, and are usually the only ones to truly listen to your woes and pleas. There is little they can do, like taking you back home. Besides, they have their own motives. They hate to see you miserable, but you'll have a considerably better life in the castle. You'll always be fed and kept safe, you'll never have to sleep upon straw or wear rags again. They still remember the little grimy child that Daemon brought home, and they dread the thought of you living like that again. They are a little yandere too, but considerably more relaxed and gentle. They don't say no to having you join them on dragon rides or horseback riding away from DragonStone, but as long as you return with them, they'll be content.

"Consider, sister" baela will coo

"father will find you. Ceraxes undoubtedly has your scent" rhaena chimes in, stroking your cheek and thumbing away a tear.

"and we would miss you" baela whispers, sharing a look with her twin. They both equally bear the burden knowing that there is little escape for you, and they sympathise with your situation. However- ultimately, like dragons, they are filled with greed and fire. They enjoy having you at home with them. They like braiding and styling your hair, or reading you stories, or having you interact with their dragons. Morning and moondancer are lovely dragons, and are the least smothering. They'll croon and let you pet them, but they won't stare like Ceraxes or nudge you around like a worrisome mother like Syrax. It's a strong chance as well that you were there to comfort them as they grieved their mother, even if it had been a couple years after her passing. Grief is still stricken in their hearts, but you- the little tearful bastard child, held empathy for them. You had just lost your mother, so to speak, and knew what it was like not being able to see her again. To never hear her voice once more, or to feel the touch of her hands upon your brow or her lips against your forehead.

You had embraced them with all your childlike bashfulness and clumsiness, embracing them hard in your little arms as they sniffled into your shoulders. Your words, despite being ungraceful and poised, were heartfelt. Since then, they were glued to you. Often being stuck in-between them and holding their hands as they weaved throughout lords and ladies at banquets and balls, giggling with warm joy as you would try to keep up with them- a big smile on your face for once.

. Daemon will see your close bond with your half-sisters and use it to his advantage. He'll watch you all embrace and giggle and play, and watch fondly. Knowing that you at least had a reason to smile here now.

. It is settled in his mind. Rhaenyra will keep you smothered in pretty things and toys and books, your half-sisters will keep you smiling, and he will keep you safe in your cage.

. One saving grace from Daemon, however is that he won't give your hand away to any lord that comes tottering by. So? You think because she is a bastard it means she should just settle for whatever she can get? That's his princess you're talking about. Daemon is always sure of his view of marriage- it's for political power. But for you, due to your heritage and claim, there is no need to hand you over to a lord or prince. It's the only shred of freedom you'll be granted, and let's be honest, life as a targarian woman isn't pretty. The gods could ask for you, and he'll still deny them.

. Overall, he would be a pretty standoffish yet controlling yandere. He'll use the people around you to keep you trapped and within his control, and stand in with his intimidation and wit to keep things running the way he wants it. There is little chance of escaping with him as your father- he has eyes across the earth, the oceans, and the sky. But as long as you stay content within the stone walls of your prison, all will be well.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

hey could I possibly get a scenario of reader who is not Gojo’s s/o yet. Taking a nap in his presence. They don’t plan it. They were talking with him for a bit. They just felt tired suddenly and fell asleep on the couch in the teacher’s lounge room next to Gojo in the middle of their conversation. He’s the only one in the room?

Gojo Satoru - Falling Asleep on His Shoulder Mid-Conversation

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

. . .Hey @nesting-dreams, It's your turn today. Sorry that I took so long, college and work have been taking up most of my time so I have to squeeze these in here and there. Sorry that it's really short, for some reason I had a lot of trouble with this one. This takes place a few months before the events of Jujutsu Kaisen. Also, this is written in the third person, so I hope you don't mind it too much. The lyrics quoted in this one are from the song “Put You Head On My Shoulder” by Paul Anka. —Benny🐰

Warnings ➔  Reader is Gn, Reader is a 1st Grade Sorcerer, Reader Teaches the 3rd Year Students 

Word Count: 534 words

                                                                                                   

❝𝕻𝖚𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕺𝖓 𝕸𝖞 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗, 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝕸𝖊 𝕴𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕬𝖗𝖒𝖘, 𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖞~ 𝕾𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖟𝖊 𝕸𝖊 𝕺𝖍-𝕾𝖔-𝕿𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖔𝖔~ ❞

. . .

♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾

“You've got to give that poor kid a break; he's got his own missions already, you know?”  

[Name] chuckles in exasperation from their place beside the strongest sorcerer, arms loosely crossed over their chest.

“Wha– Oh c'mon, it builds character. It's not like Megumi won't get harder missions when he goes up a grade. Plus, it's a bonding thing too; he's getting to know more about me by experiencing what I do for work!”

The snow-white-haired man smoothly excuses himself, glancing at the person beside him.

[Name] rolled their eyes and attempted to playfully shove Gojo aside, only to have their hand stop just an inch from the man's clothed shoulder. They huffed, giving the man an annoyed expression as he chuckled at their futile action and rested his arm behind them on the sofa's backrest.

“You and that damn infinity– quit smiling like that, you weirdo.”  

The first-grade sorcerer jokingly complained, rubbing their now sore wrist with their free hand as they lazily laid their head on the infinity that shielded Satoru’s shoulder.

Blindfolded blue eyes glance down at the top of [Name]’s head; his long arm moving from its place on the sofa's backrest to draping around their shoulder where slender fingers annoyingly pinched at their cheeks.

“Ya tired? Stay up all night doing boring paperwork again~? That's why I just make Ijichi do mine.~”  

The white-haired man blabbered as his hand continued to busy itself with poking at the other's face.

The shorter only hums quietly at first, swatting at his bothersome and intrusive appendage, before quietly muttering:

“...You always bully that poor man… you make me feel bad for ‘em.”  

Gojo lets out a quiet but amused chuckle, beginning to play with and tug at the ends of a few thin locks of [Name]’s hair. The first-grade sorcerer grunts in annoyance and swats at his hands again, shrugging their shoulders up to their ears to hide them from their fellow teacher’s nimble hands. The blindfolded man then ‘‘relents’’ and only rests his hand on their shoulder.

“I don't understand why you feel bad for that guy; he works for those damn geezers.”  

He complains, tossing his head back childishly and digging in his ear with his pinky while tracing the lines in the textured ceiling with his gaze.

A few moments of silence –with the addition of soft rhythmic breathing– pass after his words before he lifts his head and casts his gaze to the left. The sight of a close-eyed [Name] greets him; their body and expression fully relaxed, allowing him to tell that they had fallen asleep easily. After a few seconds of admiring their sleeping face, Satoru deactivates his infinity, allowing the first-grade sorcerer's soft and warm cheek to rest on the fabric of his uniform jacket. 

A soft sigh escapes his nostrils as his hand resumes playing with their messy locks of hair.

“You know you could ask Yaga to switch classes with you if those third years are giving you this much trouble… Man, you're even more hard-headed than Suguru was…”  

The white-haired man mutters quietly, his own eyes closing as he rests his head on top of his friend's.

♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾

. . .

❝𝕻𝖚𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕺𝖓 𝕸𝖞 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗, 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝕸𝖊 𝕴𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕬𝖗𝖒𝖘, 𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖞~ 𝕾𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖟𝖊 𝕸𝖊 𝕺𝖍-𝕾𝖔-𝕿𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖔𝖔~ ❞

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Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[spookwyrdie]

Riled Up

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}

Bang Chan x Reader x Han Jisung

word count: 1.2k

summary: You were going to be in a lot of trouble when you got home if the way Chan was staring daggers at you across the bar was any indicator. But the dance floor was so tempting, Jisung’s arms wrapped around your waist were so inviting, and the music was made for swaying your hips against him. Chan will have to show you both who you belong to.

genre: smut, power play

warnings: adult dialogue, sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy, threesome,

a/n: branching out from femdom to write about jealousy feels very apt for me rn lmao. i don't want han has a bias wrecker....BUT THE PARASITES....THE DEMONS in me want han as a bias wrecker

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

Jisung is already on his way to the dance floor as the DJ starts playing one of his favorite songs. You turn to Chan.  

“Come on, let’s go dance!” you said, tugging on his sleeve. 

“No, sweet thing, I’m a little tired tonight.” He brushes you off, taking a sip of his whisky on the rocks. You know how hard he’s been working lately; tonight was supposed to help him unwind, get out of his head a little. You pout, pulling out all the stops, trying to get him to come with you. 

“Pleeeeease?” 

“Why don’t you go dance with Ji? He’s already out there on the floor,” Chan says, nodding towards Jisung, who had already started shaking his hips to the beat. Chan takes your chin in his hand to give you a little peck on your pouting lips and sends you on your way. You throw one last pleading look over your shoulder as you get up, but Chan grins, a stubborn glint to his eyes. 

Fine, if he wants you to go dance with Jisung, you’ll do exactly that. You make sure to add an extra sway to your hips as you walk away from the table where everyone is lounging, knowing Chan won’t be able to take his eyes off you.  

You toss your arms around Jisung’s neck once you make your way to the floor. He grins wide when he sees you, giving you a big hug.  

“Y/n!”  

“Hey Ji!” you shout over the music into his ear. “You mind helping me make Chan a little jealous?” 

Jisung looks over at where Chan was sitting, leaning back in his chair, watching the two of you with a satisfied look on his face. “Sure! You know I love seeing that guy crack.” 

Jisung pulls you into his arms and soon you fall into a rhythm, your hips in unison. He presses you closer until there’s no room between your bodies. The bass pounds through you as you feel his body moving against yours. Running your hands over Jisung’s body as you dance, you use him as a prop for your seduction of the man sitting across the room. You make sure to trail your fingers down Ji’s chest, spinning around and leaning your back against him, you roll your hips into him while making direct eye contact with Chan. The way his eyes bore into you, sitting forward, glowering, makes you giddy. You smile at him, challenging him.  

Jisung was a great partner in crime, his hand slinks around your body to rest on your lower belly, gently pressing your pelvis back into him, grinding you down onto him. You gasp a little at how tantalizingly close he is to your core. His hand slides over the thin fabric of your dress, his fingertips brush against the edge of the elastic of your panties. He groans, hooking his chin over your shoulder. You turn your head to look at him, but his eyes are not on you in this moment. You follow his gaze.

He’s staring at Chan across the room, a daring gleam thick in his eyes, goading him to the dance floor. He’s enjoying putting you on display as much as you enjoy riling up Chan. 

The music changed from high energy to something darker, more sultry. You turned back towards Jisung, foreheads basically touching. Your hand roamed to the back of his head, plunging your fingers into his wavy hair. Groaning into your touch, he readjusts to slot a thigh between your legs. You gasp as his hands on your hips press you down on his thigh, only a few layers of fabric between your core and his skin. You’re so close to him, looking up under your long lashes you watch as something playful and wicked flits across his face. He bites down on his lip as he smiles at you, giving you a slight nod.  

Jisung’s fingers sink into your plush hips, and you feel him pull gently, encouraging you to rock against him. Desire floods through you, gasping at the slow friction you’re building between your bodies, getting lost in the rhythm of the pulsing music. You and Jisung are pressed together so close, you felt your heart flutter a little bit as he huffed a laugh against your skin. He tilts his head in such a way that you think he’s going to kiss you – and oh, how nice that would be right now along with the hot pressure of his thigh against you. You see his eyes drift away from your face, a lazy smile stretches across his face. 

“Oh, he’s definitely riled up now.”  

You look over your shoulder to find Chan sauntering over. He looks like an animal, quietly stalking up to its prey. The look in his eyes is deadly and it makes your chest constrict with excitement at the thought. Your little show had paid off.  

He snakes an arm around you, pulling himself flush with your body, hard muscle pressing into your soft curves. Swaying back and forth with you to the music, he buries his face in your hair, growling in your ear, “I said dance with Jisung, not fuck him on the dance floor.” 

You turn to meet his eyes, mischief radiating from your smile, “Jisung was a great suggestion, I got carried away with the music.”  

You peck him on the cheek with that. His grip on you gets tighter and you arch back, grinding your ass directly into him, feeling his cock already half hard. He hisses at the contact, placing a strategic kiss right underneath your ear, grazing it with his teeth. Your eyes flutter as you gasp and your head lolls to the side, giving him more access to your neck. 

Your body is sandwiched between Chan and Jisung, rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the music. You can barely hear it anymore, you’re lost in the sensation of being pushed and pulled between these two men. Chan’s breath is hot and heavy against your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin, littering the side of your throat with angry red marks. Jisung leans back to take in the image before him, his palm drifting up your arm to your collarbone. His fingers trail gently up the opposite side of your neck, dancing along your jaw until they rest against your lips.  

Your eyes meet his as he gently presses his index and middle finger against your lips. You oblige, pulling the digits into the wet velvet of your mouth. His fingers are slightly salty as your tongue glides along them, curling around the digits. You watch his jaw drop open as you suck on his fingers, you can feel his moan resonate in your chest where you’re still pressed up against him. His hips jerk up towards your body as you pull his fingers into the heat of your mouth, his hard cock straining against his pants presses into your pelvis. Caught between these two bodies, grinding back and forth, feeling your clit drag against Jisung’s thigh while Chan sucks on your neck has you nearly fucked out on the dance floor.  

“You better take her home, hyung,” Jisung says, eyes still fixated on your mouth. “Before she gets carried away again.”  

Chan pauses his attention to your neck, glaring at Jisung, lips still hovering over your throat. 

“Watch it, Ji.” 

“Oh, I will,” he grins, his teeth shining in the low light of the club. “Couldn’t look away if I tried. 

[trancylovecraft]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WANDERILLUSTREOUS!: Chapter One!

(YANDERE GENSHIN VARIOUS x READER)

[F/N] [L/N], A twenty-two year old college student goes about her mundane life. Most people would describe her as content, And maybe [F/N] would've described it as such too- Her life. Over and over again, Day after day, The cycle never stops. That is, However, Until she suddenly drops into Genshin Impact out of nowhere. In any other case, [F/N] might have been glad to be there. In a fantasy land where she had only ever visited in her dreams, With a feeling she couldn't describe flooding her entire being. However, [F/N] couldn't be further from excited.. She had never played Genshin in her life. [F/N] threw her head into her hands, Holding back the urge to scream. “I’m absolutely screwed, Aren’t I?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚AO3 LINK *ೃ༄

GENDER: Femme LIST OF YANDERE'S: https://pastebin.com/ErsuA2cz SONG: RISK, RISK, RISK! - Jhariah NOTE: N/A

PROLOGUE *ੈ✩‧₊˚ MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ NEXT PART (ON AO3) *

To say that [F/N] had never played Genshin Impact in her life, Was a bit of an exaggeration.

She had played Genshin. However it was a good couple of years ago, And even then it had only been up until she had arrived in Mondstadt.

It was a rather boring night, [F/N] could recall. She had only downloaded the game after seeing it all over her social media, Flickering through her TikTok with thinned lips as she saw edit after edit, Listened to audio after audio, Read reference after reference of which she couldn’t understand.

Her thumb was hesitant as it tapped the download button on the app store.

It really didn’t seem like something she’d be interested in..

But when even her friends began to start raving about it..

After waiting the nail-biting time it took to download on her phone, She finally got to play, Her phone held landscape in both hands as she gripped it tight. Blue light lit up her face, Eyes burning at the sudden glare within her dark room.

She had ran around after the cutscenes ended, When she had chosen the sister and her brother was subsequently taken away. [F/N] went around, Hit a few of the enemies, Did a few of the character cutscenes, Picked up a few apples..

In all honestly, [F/N] couldn’t understand the appeal.

The characters she had so far met, A girl with reddish clothing and an effeminate boy coddling a dragon, Both weren’t really that promising. The girl especially. [F/N]’s eyes rolled after the fifth dialogue box flew by.

[F/N] had then uninstalled the app with a display of disappointment on her face.

It really wasn’t for her after all.

“Jesus-! Does there really need to be so much twigs..?! Man- My feet are gonna be bleeding at this rate.”

“Jesus? What’s a Jesus?”

“Uuh- No- It’s uhm..”

Which really sucked, Considering her current predicament.

“Woah..! Look at that!”

[F/N] pushed herself up, Finally trudging uphill to now stand perched atop the peak of the entire valley. The sky, A bold blue with white clouds stricken across such a wondrous canvas- [F/N] could only marvel, Feeling her breath be taken by the wind as she looked out over the sea of her surroundings.

Mountains and valleys, With the named city faded off in the distance- Towering windmills cutting the sky open like blades as the bird continued to soar around them. [F/N] could only watch as their wings beat against the wind, Wild and free.

Her eyes trailed down, Centring on what was now before her.

A crescent shaped valley, Careened off by the surrounding headlands. [F/N] felt her heart pound in her chest as she gazed across the trickling ring of water in the middle, Surrounding a small island like a moat.

And a carved stone pillar, Holding a beautifully chiselled statue atop it.

[F/N] let go of her breath, Her eyes ablaze.

Mondstadt. She was in Mondstadt. The first location within Genshin Impact, At least she knew that. By the cool winds that danced across the grasslands she was traversing through, Carrying the revitalising scent of saccharine rosebuds and rejuvenating sweet flowers-

The wide horizon with far away mountains- Snow-capped peaks fading into the ocean blue of the sky as the gulls above continued to soar-

Yeah, This place was way too good for real life.

She was in Mondstadt, No doubt.

“That’s a statue of the seven..!” Paimon gasped as she looked out across the valley, Excitedly pointing down towards the statue below them.  “There are a few of these statues scattered across the land to show The Seven's protection over the world.”

“The seven?”

“Yeah..! The seven! Though.. Paimon guesses that you haven’t heard of them.. They’re the gods that rule over Teyvat!”

A neuron clicked in her head.

Oh yeah, The Archons, [F/N]’s heard of them.

Mostly from thirst traps.

“No, No. I think I’ve got an idea about who they are.” [F/N] nodded her head as she looked out across the valley, Sweeping the dirt and dust and hair out of her eyes as she took in the cool air. 

Paimon nodded happily, Turning back towards the statue.

“Mondstadt is ruled by the Anemo God, Barbatos! You think he has any idea about how you ended up here?” She asked in thought as she began to float away, Beckoning [F/N] to follow her down towards the statue.

[F/N] shook her head, Beginning to trail along with an uneasy look.

“I don’t know-” She exasperated, Yelping as she almost trips over a stray rock. “Look- All I want to do is just- I don’t know.. Find a place to gather my thoughts, And get a good meal. I don’t know if this ‘Barbatos’ guy knows what happened to me, But I’ll figure it out once I get my stomach full and my head to stop pounding.. Ah, Jeez..”

“Paimon agrees! Spinning around and around in a whirlpool really builds up an appetite..!”

And fishing a fairy out of one too. [F/N] could almost feel her stomach doing kickflips.

[F/N] groaned as she trudged along. According to what fleeting memory she had of the beginning of this game, The traveller- The sister- She had made her way to the little island in the middle of the statue- Pressed her palm against the cracked stone and suddenly she was able to control the element of Anemo.

Was [F/N] capable of doing the same? Was she meant to do the same?

She had taken the traveller's place after all. 

Eventually, [F/N] managed to stumble along, Following the fairy to the miniature shore of the ring pool with only a few more scrapes added to the bottom of her feet. She winced. As soon as she got the chance, [F/N] was getting a pair of shoes, Supposing that was another thing to add to the list.

Snapped out of her thoughts, [F/N] shot Paimon the dirtiest look when she said she had to swim.

[F/N] shuddered.

Tossing her bag to the side, [F/N] took in a deep breath.

Anything to progress the plot, She supposed.

“Ugh, Dangit.. There goes any semblance of warmth I have.”

[F/N] whimpered, Absolutely drenched in spring water. Dripping from her hair, Her clothes and the tip of her nose all cold soaked in dew. Making her look like a wet cat as she stood in the centre of the small island, [F/N] tried not to shake as she felt the water crawl down her back.

Turning away, She tried to refocus.

[F/N] took a deep breath in, Shuddering as droplets continued to trickle down her body, Her legs. With a sharp exhale she reached out her hand towards the cracked stone pillar, Her fingers twitching.

Her palm pressed flat against the stone, Just like the traveller did in canon, Cold and coarse against her touch.

The wind continued to blow through the valley, The floral scent still invading her senses. For a moment, Nothing had happened. [F/N] almost expected it not to work, Did she want it to work?

“What the-”

The statue began to glow, The sphere held up like the moon in the statue’s hands began to radiate light like the sun.

[F/N] stumbled back, Eyes widening in shock as she felt the wind begin to pick up around her. Roaring and waving- A speck of light picking up from the sphere, Swirling and swaying in the wind-

Heading right towards [F/N].

“Ack-!” [F/N] yelped out as she felt the wisp crash into her chest with the toll of a wind chime. She backed up, Almost tripping over the stray rocks as a sudden spark spread across her body like wildfire.

Her headache began to cool, The ache in her feet began to dull.

A strange tranquillity (?) washing over her.

“Ooh! Did you just feel the elements of the world?” Paimon gasped as she almost zoomed towards her, Eyes batting as she looked over [F/N]’s figure.

“I-I guess so..?” She replied hesitantly, Her hands patting down her body, Almost frantic, As if looking for some kind of injury. Though thankfully to her relief, She found no cuts or gashes or whatever else Her body was uninjured-

Quite the opposite, [F/N]’s eyes widened when she realised the cuts on her feet were no longer present.

“Huh.. It healed me..?” She whispered, Her eyes shining, Amazed.

“Seems all you had to do was just touch the statue and you got the power of Anemo!” Paimon marvelled, Blinking in wonder as she turned to look at her. 

“I.. I did?” [F/N] blinked as she felt a sudden power wash over her- Cool and sublime just like the saccharine winds that danced throughout the little island she stood on. How strange. She felt a shiver trail down her spine as the wind crept up her back.

She got the power of Anemo? But she didn’t feel any different..

“Searching for the Anemo Archon should be our long-term goal! Finding out why you came into Teyvat is your goal right? Or is Paimon getting that messed up..?” Paimon asked, A hand on her chin in thought.

[F/N] blinked.

Her goal?

[F/N] hadn’t thought about a goal.

“Yeah. You’re right..” She spoke slowly, Controlled. Her head nodding. [F/N] supposed that she needed to set some kind long-term goal set in mind. “I need to find out how I got here. Yeah. I need to figure out how I got into this world- You’re right.”

Paimon smiled.

“Of course I am, Paimon’s always right!” The fairy hmphed, Arms folding as an expression of pride across her face. “Perhaps, because you got power from the God of Anemo, you can find some clues in Mondstadt! And as your guide, Paimon will be glad to take you!”

[F/N] took a deep breath in, Took in the flowers- The pollen. The air so much clearer than in the suburbia she was use to kicking about in. She shuddered. [F/N] still felt like a fish out of water, Like a sheep out of her pen- Like a person who was never meant to be here-

But she needed to stay calm. She needed to stay focused.

Turning to Paimon, [F/N] gave her a curt nod and a short agreement left her lips. A grateful look in her eyes, Thankful for at least some kind of guide in this place- This foreign planet. Even if her guide was a little uncanny- With her big eyes and the way she seemed to float mid-air- [F/N] was glad she had at least some form of guidance here. 

Paimon grinned, Beckoning her forward.

“Come on then, Let’s head to Mondstadt!”

⭒❅✸✪✸❅⭒

“Agh-! The hell is that!?”

[F/N]’s bag dropped to the ground.

Her voice was drowned out by a roar unlike any other, A bellow shaking the earth- 

Shaking the trees as the mass careened over the horizon. It’s roar like an avalanche- Crashing, Enveloping everything-

Tallgrass whipped back from the gales, Pushed by the sheer force of the gale. Flowers trembled. Bugs began to scatter. Worms became unearthed as the ground shook with such vitriol.

[F/N] could only watch in horror.

A dark shadow flew over her. She stood frozen in a down-turned field, Waist-deep in tallgrass that tickled at the dampness on her skin. Her eyes were just as agape as her mouth was, Gasping, Trembling, Head pointed straight up. 

It was a dragon.

A massive- Impossibly sized dragon.

And it was flying right over her.

Talons shining under the heat of the sun, A white underbelly, Horns pointed behind it’s head like a crown. Beady eyes paying her no mind as they wildly searched for a suitable spot. 

The wings, Feathered and ruffled- Gliding across the sky making birds wildly soar away from the bigger fish- Feathers like diamond and crystals scattered across it like a butterfly’s- Tufts flying off as it crashed down upon the forest.

[F/N] tried not to fall from the quake, Rippling out across the land.

“Holy-!” [F/N] cried out as the earthquake finally subsided, Only proving to make her stumble back a few steps. Goosebumps travelled across her skin as she let go of the leather strap of her bag, Slipping out of her grasp.

“Wow! What is that!?”

Paimon's voice cried out from beside her, Shrill and squeaky as it always was. A dragon, Of course it was, [F/N] had no idea how she had forgotten about this part of the game- A dragon whose mere claw was the size of her- Gliding and crashing into the forest with a roar.

[F/N] knew that she wouldn’t forget it now.

She took a step forward, Then another- Her eyes trained in the direction that it had fallen in. Paimon floated forward too, Stars fading in her wake as she 

“It's landed in the heart of the forest. Come on, We should go check it out..!”

“What..!? Are you insane?!”

There was absolutely no way Paimon had just said that.

[F/N] looked at Paimon, Wide-eyed and absolutely baffled. Check it out? What. The massive, Several-story tall dragon that had crashed into the forest and seemed absolutely livid out of it’s mind?

“Yeah- No.” [F/N] shook her head rapidly, Laughing almost sheepishly as a bead of sweat ran down her brow. “Look- Paimon- I don’t know about you but I don’t have any weapons- Or- Or any actual abilities I know how to use yet- But you know what I do have?“

“What?”

“A will to live.”

“Aha..” Paimon giggled awkwardly. Scratching behind her head sheepishly, Almost flushed as the redness of her face began to flare up in embarrassment. 

[F/N] sighed, Pinching her brow.

How did it go in game again?

The traveller had made her way into the heart of the forest after the dragon crashed into it, Fighting low-level enemies with her newfound power and gaining XP quickly rendered useless by the resources she found.

She had hidden behind a tree, Eavesdropping in as the dragon began to communicate with that effeminate boy- Venti, Was it? [F/N] knew of him at least, If only by name. He had been trying to soothe the dragon from what she could recall, However thanks to the traveller- Her presence had disturbed them and therefore made an issue in the plot.

So all [F/N] had to do was just.. Not get involved. 

All she had to do was just pretend she saw nothing and go on about her merry way.

[F/N] sighed, Turning towards Paimon.

“Come on, Let’s just get to Mondstadt- I don’t think this is something we should be getting involved.. In..” [F/N] blinked, Her voice slowly trailing off, Quieter and quieter as her eyes began to focus on something.

“Eh? Traveller? What’s with that face?” Paimon tilted her head, Blinking as she observed the rather befuddled expression crossing her new-companions face. [F/N], In turn, Only narrowed her eyes further, Looking directly behind Paimon.

Raising a shaky finger, She pointed.

“H-Huh..? What is that?”

[F/N] double-takes, Her eyes batting as they observed a hunched over figure sat crouched a good few feet away from her. 

It was curled over, A thick mass of matted fur around it’s hidden neck. [F/N] could almost puke at the sudden smell it gave off. Body the colour of coal, Spine jutting out on it’s back- [F/N] almost wanted to look away-

“Oh- It’s a hilichurl..!” Paimon gasped.

“A hilichurl..?!” [F/N] squeaked.

Well, That explained what it was- A low level enemy in the game. [F/N] was almost prepared to slowly turn around and quietly make her get away. She didn’t have any weapons to fight it, Not that she had much experience anyways.

But she didn’t move an inch. Not when her vision trailed to it’s hands- Fingers thick with chipped nails the colour of dirt and grime as it fiddled around with something unsee-

[F/N]’s eyes widened.

“H-Hey-! Wait- That’s my bag! Stop touching that, It’s mine!”

Her bag, The one she had dropped in shock after that dragon had flew right over her head, The one she had grabbed onto for dear life when she had first fallen into Genshin- It was being raided by what looked to be a decrepit little beast- Hands deep with in the compartments, The zipper ripped right open.

[F/N]’s eyes widened. Her phone, Her food, Her notebook-!

The hilichurl’s head jerked around, Eyes glaring at [F/N] from behind the shoddily painted mask it wore. [F/N] shuddered. The fur around their neck fluffed up, The hilichurl angrily garbled out a war cry. 

Or maybe it was more akin to a ‘catch-me-if-you-can!’

Because it was only a moment later until it began sprinting off in the opposite direction- Bag clutched tightly in its arms, Swiftly sprinting away on it’s hobbled feet while letting out garbled laughter.

“Oh no you don’t-! Come back here!” [F/N] yelled out as she began to take off after it. It didn’t matter whether she had a weapon or not, Or shoes, Only wincing a bit as the pebbles hit against her skin. There was no way she was going to let some small little man run off with her stuff-!

Paimon gasped as she watched [F/N] sprint after the creature, Her voice reaching a peak as she called after them.

“H-Hey! Wait for Paimon..!”

⭒❅✸✪✸❅⭒

“Finally! Got you..!

The hilichurl cried out in a panic as it scurried away. Bag falling to the floor as it ran off into the cover of the trees, Scattering, Sprinting away from [F/N]- Who was just about ready to lunge at it.

“Yeah-! You better run..!” [F/N] heaved as she collapsed onto the grassy, Teeth gritting as she tried to calm down the fire in her chest. Damn it. [F/N] really needed to start doing cardio..

[F/N] gasped.

Her bag.

[F/N]’s hands snatched the leather strap of her fallen bag, Lugging it towards her. What damage could that thing have done to it? Most importantly-

What it could have done to the things inside of it.

[F/N] searched through her bag, Her hands moving feverishly as she counted her belongings. Her dead phone. Her energy drinks. Her notebook? Thank God, Her notebook. Thank God it was all there.

As for the outside?

The Hello-Kitty Charm? Intact. The silver zipper running up the leather? A little muddy but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. [F/N] sighed, Almost feeling her body deflating from the sheer relief she felt in that moment as she grasped onto her poor bag tighter.

“Oh my gosh.. I feel like my heart could explode..” She breathed out as she clutched her bag to her chest, Lungs burning in her chest from how fast she had to run. [F/N] breathed out. She hadn’t any idea how long it had been since she’d had to run that fast.

[F/N] blinked. 

“Paimon..?”

[F/N] raised her head from where it had been resting atop her bag, Confused upon the lack of response. Huh. It seemed the fairy had gone missing.

Or more accurately, [F/N] had left her behind.

“Damnit..” She sighed as she sat there amongst the weeds and the dirt, Having lost her only guide to this entire place- To this video game. [F/N] just sat there breathing in and out, Her chest constricting, Her pyjamas still a mess both damp in saltwater and sweat.

Dang it. [F/N] was a mess.

She breathed out.

Wait..

“Where am I..?” [F/N] blinked, Her head jerking right to left. Eyes as wide as dinner plates as she observed her surroundings.

A forest.

[F/N] sat within a small clearing in a forest, Collapsed to the side of an old trail no doubt made by years of travellers coming through here. It was cool here. The wind quieter than usual yet the floral aroma still lingered in the air.

Tree’s shrouded her, Surrounding the vicinity in all directions. [F/N] bit her lip, Trying to figure out where she had came from. The leaves acted as a canopy, Only letting darting lines of light through to hit the forest floor, Yet not enough to show her where she was going.

[F/N] blinked.

Well, She was lost.

[F/N] cursed herself under her breath. How could she have been so stupid? Running after that thing? Leaving her only guide behind? How could she be so clueless as to not even notice her surroundings.

Pinching her brows, A sigh left her lips.

[F/N] winced as she pushed herself to her feet, Stumbling like a new-born foal as she tried to gather her balance. Great, She was in the middle of an unknown forest without her fairy guide to tell her where exactly to go.

It was a stupid idea to run off like that.

But she couldn’t have just let her bag fall into another’s hands!

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, She began to follow the old path. If [F/N] couldn’t figure out where Paimon was or which way she had to go- Then she’d just follow the path, Right? Sticking to the trail was just common sense, Taught ever since she was little and old enough to go hiking through the woods in her big yellow raincoat.

A smile crossed over her face for only a second, Faint but meaningful. As [F/N] continued to follow down the old path.

Though this trail wasn't as wonderful and adventurous as they felt when she was small.

It didn’t have that same feeling.

That feeling..

“...Don't be afraid.”

What?

[F/N] paused just as her foot was about to press down on the dirt. A young- Feminine sounding voice echoed out from somewhere ahead of her- Around the bend, Further nestled from within.

It was soft like the wind that drifted throughout the trees. It was calm and soothing, Trying to calm down something- Someone. [F/N] raised an eyebrow. It was a rather beautiful voice, One that would sound rather beautiful if it were to sing.

Broken out of her thoughts, She could hear something else too.

[F/N] felt her body move for her. One foot after another. Slowly. Walking towards the sound of the voice and the low- rumbling sound that revved like the engine on a car. It was low, Quiet, Yet it felt intense and threatening all the same.

[F/N] didn’t know why she was heading towards it, Her eyes wide- Searching as she approached the stalk bark of a nearby tree. The rumbling grew louder, And as it did, [F/N] peered around it-

Oh.

You gotta be kidding..!

“ ..It's alright now, I'm back. ” The boy spoke softly as he stood there, Sage green cloak flowing behind him as his hand outstretched to the dragon- Almost touching the snout, But not quite.

The dragon was there, Body hulking over the small frame of the boy yet it stayed back- Either out of hesitation or trepidation- Perched upon a rockside as it almost tried to read the boy’s mind. Steam blew out of it’s nose. A rumbling reverberating from inside of it’s chest like an engine about to take off.

It was a scene [F/N] never thought she’d remember so clearly. Watching as the boy tried to take a few steps closer to the beast, An expression that could only be described as concern struck across his features.

It was him- Venti.

[F/N]’s heart thundered in her chest as she gripped onto the trunk of the tree tighter. Her lips parted, A display of shock and terror upon her face. It was one thing to witness this on a busted up iPhone, It was another to watch this play out before her very eyes.

A cold sweat drew over her.

[F/N] needed to leave. Now.

A quiet yet frantic step back. Her eyes eternally locked on the scene in front of her- Like the dragon would turn to her and lunge any second. Jaw snapping, Teeth clanking, Swallowing her whole in a single bite.

She wasn’t meant to be here- 

[F/N] took a step back, Barefoot pressing down against a feeble twig-

SNAP!

[F/N]’s eyes widened.

The dragon let out a roar.

It shook the forest. Leaves flying off their branches, Squirrels squeaking and beginning to scatter away from the scene. [F/N] yelled out, Almost toppling over from the sheer force of the dragon’s roar-

“Who's there!?” Venti called out in alarm, Eyes darting between the dragon and [F/N]’s general direction. 

The dragon grew restless, Wings batting, Creating gusts of wind that could cause planes to crash out of the sky. Tornadoes to form. It’s beady eyes began to dart wildly in every direction until they landed on Venti, The one trying to soothe it-

With a snarl, It lunged.

In a sudden disappearance- A flash of blue and green he vanished into the wind- Just like that. The dragons jaws snapping down into thin air. A low growl erupting from it’s throat as it realised this- The dragons eyes now latching onto [F/N].

She managed a look up.

And it was coming straight for her.

She gasped, Stumbling back, Afoot caught on an ankle.

THUMP!

“Agh!” [F/N] cried out as she hit the floor. Hard. Her head crashing against the hard surface of a nearby group of rocks. Her body winded and and sore as the beating of the wind hitting against the dampness of her clothes, The dirt across her skin.

The dragon avoided her entirely, Wings beating as it flew over her in a frenzied rage- Taking off into the sky, Wind parting as it carried the beast along. Higher and higher. Raising until it was nothing but a splotch within the clouds.

Gone, Along with the wind it carried.

[F/N] exhaled.

As she laid down against the dirt, The grass tickling her skin- She couldn’t help but feel reminiscent. [F/N] thought it was a little silly considering everything that had just happened- Especially since it was for a time that had happened such a short while back. 

She was back exactly where she had started only an hour or two ago. Lying upon the grass, In the dirt and the mud. Bugs scurried around her form like the chalk outline a detective would grimace at, Creating a picturesque outline upon the ground, Her eyes hazy.

Dang. She was tired.

[F/N] hadn’t gotten any sleep, Not a single bit of shut eye- Even before she had came here. If she was any less sleep deprived she would have regretted her time spent during the early morning hours. For what? Just another chapter to read through on her phone?

[F/N] breathed out. 

It was strange, Per se. Despite the usual lack of tiredness there was something else- A sort of sensation that felt like water beginning to pour over her skin, Seeping in, Flooding throughout her system. It was also reminiscent of her first few moments here, Something that made [F/N]’s breath hitch in her throat- 

It was that feeling.

[F/N] shut her eyes.

What was it called again?

“Hey..! Are you okay..?!”

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 69

One time while escaping from a cell, Romana commented that it would be child's play to unlock the door with her sonic screwdriver. She then said it was literally child's play as doing so had been a game back on Gallifrey. (Audio: Subterranea)

One of Jamie's distant relations became a spy during World War II and used the name "the Doctor." (Audio: Operation Werewolf)

On his report, Borusa gave Theta Sigma a 7 in the subject of "Physical Inactivity." He commented that his pupil seems to think he is a mountain goat. (Short story: Report on Term's Work)

Memory lanterns are Time Lord devices that resemble paper lanterns but record an individual's thoughts and memories. During the Time War, many Gallifreyans released these lanterns as a desperate ploy to not be forgotten, as they thought they would all die. (Novel: Engines of War)

Ben, Polly, and Jamie played with a ouija board on the TARDIS. This caused a dark cloud from the time vortex to slip inside Jamie's mind, affecting his behavior. The Second Doctor banished the cloud by reading a recipe for Bajaxx stew written in Ancient Gallifreyan. (Short story: Something at the Door)

Jarra To killed the previous overseer of the Axis. Eventually, a Time Lord came to investigate, but they killed them. By the time the Fifth Doctor and his companions landed there, they described the corpse as "rank" with oozing flesh and insect larvae. (Audio: The Axis of Insanity)

After leaving Nyssa, Tegan, and Marc behind, the Fifth Doctor had several adventures on his own. Eventually, he encountered his Eleventh self, and he decided to return to his companions because he didn't want to be like him - companionless and disparaged in 1892. (Audio: Thin Time)

Time Vortex leeches live in the time vortex, and the Doctor had thought they were a myth from Ancient Gallifreyan songs until one of them clung to his Eleventh self's TARDIS exterior. (Comic: Space in Dimension Relative and Time)

One time, a man called Gaylord Lefevre played a game of cards against the Toymaker. He cheated and used a needle to mark cards, but the Toymaker was aware of this and altered his cards to be a hand full of jokers when Gaylord wasn't looking. The Toymaker claimed he wasn't cheating but instead following a new rule that Gaylord had introduced - that cheating was acceptable. (Comic: The Greatest Gamble)

Gallifrey has a transtube, which is basically an underground train. It has a central station under the Capitol. (Novel: The Ancestor Cell)

One time after the Seventh Doctor was knocked out, he drowsily told Ace that he had had a terrible dream. A man with ringlets had been reaching out to him, saying, "Come in, Number Seven, your time is up." He was talking about the Eighth Doctor. (Audio: The Silurian Candidate)

Maria Mazzini once commented on how powerful the Fifth Doctor's thighs were - after slapping them. (Audio: Serpent in the Silver Mask)

One time, the Fourth Doctor decided to take Sarah Jane to Geshtinanna. The journey in the TARDIS took nine weeks, during which both became bored and tired. While traveling in the time vortex, the clocks in the TARDIS all stopped, and the Doctor then detected the remains of another TARDIS in the vortex, trapped their because the pilot had made the mistake of locking their course. They were worried that they too had fallen to the same fate and were unable to change course, but when the day of materialization finally came, they successfully materialized. The Doctor realized that the TARDIS had stopped all the clocks out of respect for her fallen fellow TARDIS. Even after nine weeks of travel, they materialized nowhere close to Geshtinanna. (Short story: Eternity)

The Seventh Doctor has shifted his genetic makeup enough to disguise himself before and mimic someone else. He admitted that he learned this trick from the Master, who frequently used regeneration as a disguise. (Novel: Original Sin)

On Gallifrey, there are two hundred and eight tenses in their languages. They don't translate well. (Novel: The Crystal Bucephalus)

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[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (8)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson! reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

word count | 5.2k words

summary | chapter title: The Side Quests of Lady Mikaelson and Jaehaerys Targaryen. Flashback, flashback. Flashback, flashback. Flashback!!! (backpack song from dora playing)

tags | uhh, child sickness? creepy man, death, blood, miscarriage, reminder: reader is mentally and physically a teenage girl, with the knowledge and memories of a five-hundred year old vampire.

note | My heart will always be soft for viserys iii and the boy he was (before becoming angry and abusive). I always thought Dany was the prince that was promised, now I realise it was Jaehaerys all along. Jaejae the 2nd, you will always be famous to me. Alsooooo can we talk about CrazyTom's artwork of Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, Aegon and Viserys. I'm obsessed!!!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏��𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the landscape, yet it felt as if you had been riding for an eternity. Your heart ached for Jaehaerys; the boy had gone from being flushed with fever to trembling like a fragile leaf in your arms. The relentless chill of night seeped through the sky as you desperately sought refuge, knowing that time was slipping through your fingers.

A troubling notion flickered at the back of your mind, persistent and unwelcome: vampire blood possessed remarkable healing properties. You understood its power all too well—but administering it to a child? The thought sent a shudder through you, compelling you to cast it aside.

At last, a flicker of hope emerged on the horizon, a humble farm materializing in the fading light. You encouraged your steed to quicken its pace, each stride bringing with it the promise of sanctuary.

Yet, as you approached the entrance, a gnawing doubt took root in your mind. The farm was eerily silent; no animals roamed the barren fields, and the grass grew wild, reclaiming the land it once served. Rusty gates hung crookedly on their hinges, their broken visage painting a grim picture of neglect. Though the place bore the marks of despair, it was shelter you so desperately needed.

In the heart of the farm stood a dilapidated house, its once-inviting facade now obscured by age and wear. Your brow knitted in concern as you noted the boarded windows, their splintered frames, while shattered glass glimmered ominously like shards of a lost past.

Dismounting the horse with careful precision, you cradled Jaehaerys in your arms, his small frame feeling impossibly fragile against you. His small head rested against your shoulder, and with tender care, you drew the blanket around him, eager to shield his silvery hair from sight.

With a determined stride, you approached the door, Jaehaerys nestled protectively against you. You wrapped your knuckles against the weathered wood, the sound echoing in the stillness. After a brief, agonizing wait, you knocked again, more forcefully this time, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Your patience, a rare commodity in such dire moments, teetered on the brink of exhaustion. Just as you reached for the handle, ready to force your way in, the door creaked open violently.

A man stood there, his expression a mask of suspicion that softened upon recognizing you—a mere girl holding a babe. He appeared to be in his late twenties, towering over you with a lean frame, almost ghostly in his thinness. Dark hollows etched into his cheeks and sunken eyes spoke of sleepless nights and countless burdens, aging him far beyond his years.

You took a steadying breath, feeling the weight of your urgency. "Forgive me, sir," you began, your voice a blend of desperation and resolve. "My son is gravely ill, and I implore you to grant us shelter from the weather."

His dark brown eyes flicked over your form, lingering on the boy before darting past you to survey the evening sky. "Seems fine to me," he remarked, a hint of sarcasm threading through his tone.

A sigh escaped your lips, a mingling of frustration and exasperation. You understood the rules of invitation all too well; only through his willingness would you find sanctuary. "I assure you, he has taken ill. A fever seizes him, and I fear he won't make it till sunrise if we remain out here. Please, I beg you—let us come inside."

The man scrutinized you, searching for hidden truths behind your wide, beseeching eyes. Then came the question that sent a ripple of caution through your veins: "Are you alone?"

A warning echoed in your mind, a primal instinct urging you to tread carefully. Yet, you were not merely a helpless girl; you were an Original, a creature of the night with immortality coursing through your veins. Steeling your resolve, you responded with a nod, your eyes wide to convey innocence, "Yes, I am."

He stared at you for a moment more, then stepped aside, inviting you to enter. “Come inside, then,” he murmured, granting you passage across the threshold.

As you ventured into his dwelling, it mirrored the desolation that lingered beyond its walls. The atmosphere was devoid of warmth, wrapped in a shroud of emptiness that seemed to echo the chill of the wintry night outside.

“How do you survive in winter?” you couldn’t help but ask, curiosity leaking into your voice.

He moved ahead of you, shrugging dismissively as if the question were an afterthought. “I get by.”

You followed him through the dimly lit corridors, ending up in what you surmised was his bedroom. With a gesture towards a ghastly contraption that barely resembled a bed, he said, “You can put him here.”

Grateful, you nodded and brushed past him, gently placing Jaehaerys down on the makeshift bed. With tender care, you swept the strands of hair from his face, attempting to obscure the telltale glimmer of his silver locks.

“You look a bit young to have a child,” the man remarked from his position behind you, his gaze trailing over you with an intensity that unsettled your very core.

"Aren't all girls?" you replied softly, allowing a hint of bite to creep into your tone as you turned your attention back to Jaehaerys.

"Fancy clothes you've got on," came his voice again, laced with curiosity and something more insidious. You sighed inwardly, frustrated by his relentless inquisition, feeling the heat of his gaze like a noose tightening around your throat. "You a lady or something?"

Your eyes drifted down to your attire — a simple green dress, elegantly cut but unpretentious by your standards. To you, it was nothing but fabric; to the eyes of the common folk, however, it gleamed with the opulence of fine material and intricate embroidery that bespoke of you standing.

"Or something," you replied vaguely, then spun to meet his gaze head-on, a noncommittal smile painting your lips as you turned to face him. "You've been so kind, yet I realize I have yet to learn your name. My name is Rebekah and this is my son, Jayme," you said.

A sly smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, an expression that held secrets of its own. "Hello, Rebekah. I’m Tym," he said, the name rolling off his tongue like a promise—or perhaps a threat, you couldn't discern yet.

The air thickened with a momentary silence, as your attention remained fixed on Jaehaerys, who stirred restlessly upon the rickety bed. With a subtle clearing of his throat, Tym broke the stillness. “Got some stew simmering over a pot. Care for some?”

His intentions appeared benign, yet a cautious wariness lingered beneath your polite smile. “That would be lovely, Tym,” you replied.

As he turned to fetch the stew, you cradled Jaehaerys, your fingertips brushing against his fevered brow. You planted a gentle kiss atop his head, whispering a quiet prayer for his recovery, your thoughts drifting back to a distant, haunting memory of the only time illness dared to lay its claim upon you.

You laid in your small makeshift bed, your frail form draped beneath layers of faded linen. It was a peculiar day, the air thick with the scent of impending rain, yet it did nothing to soothe the searing discomfort that coursed through her. At the tender age of eight, you found herself ensnared by a relentless cough, the kind that rattled your small chest and left you gasping for respite.

Your mother, Esther, hovered close, a blend of nurturing instinct and divine desperation etched upon her face. With deft hands, she anointed your forehead with fragrant oils, whispering incantations as if the very words could weave a protective barrier against the illness that sought to ravage her youngest child. Dreamcatchers, crafted from woven twigs and adorned with feathers, hung limply around the bed, enchanting the air with their promise of sweet, undisturbed slumber.

Though young and naïve, you could sense the depths of your mother’s magic, a language that danced just out of reach of your understanding. As your body quaked with another fit of coughs, you felt an unwelcome chill enveloping you, a stark contrast to the fever that scorched your skin.

“Shh, my sweet,” Esther cooed, her voice a soft balm against the storm of her anxiety swirling within the room. She gently stroked your flushed cheek, her eyes—usually so fierce and commanding—now wide with concern, scanning every inch of her child for signs of relief.

Suddenly, the sun’s warmth spilled through the hut as the flap was pushed aside with an abruptness that startled you. With great effort, you turned your head, your heart fluttering at the sight of your father's imposing figure silhouetted in the doorway. For the briefest moment, joy sparked within you—your father had come to check on you.

Yet that joy was extinguished instantly as you watched him barely acknowledge your presence, his gaze locked onto your mother like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. “Wife,” he rumbled, his voice rough and unyielding, “Hendrik calls for you.”

Without a glance in Mikael’s direction, Esther continued her tending, damp cloth in hand as she wiped away the sweat that clung to your overheated skin. “I am busy, Mikael,” she replied, her tone firm, unyielding against her husband.

Your small frame tensed as the tension in the air thickened. Your father’s eyes darkened, annoyance flashing across his face. “He is in distress,” he pressed, his voice low, “he needs his mother.”

Fleeting uncertainty crossed your gaze as you stole a glance at your mother. Esther's lips pursed, a familiar sign of her frustration simmering just below the surface. “And she needs me more,” Esther countered defiantly.

“I will not ask you again, Esther,” Mikael’s voice was dangerous now, a rumble that hinted at the storm brewing beneath the surface.

With a resigned sigh, Esther’s gaze softened as it met yours, a flicker of pain reflected within, as she acquiesced. “I will be out in a moment.”

After a tense moment that felt like an eternity, Mikael strode from the hut, leaving a cold breeze in his wake. You could almost see your mother’s shoulders sag, the weight of contention that had filled the air lifting slightly.

Esther returned to her ministrations, fussing over you as if her very life depended on it, before leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your hot forehead. “Rest, my sweet. I promise, I will return.”

The present moment snapped into focus as the soft creak of the door announced Tym's return, his hands cradling a small bowl of steaming stew that filled the air with an enticing aroma.

You offered a grateful smile as he approached, accepting the bowl with a sense of warmth that contrasted with the chill of Jaehaerys's feverish skin. Though you had no need for sustenance— in all honesty, you had no need for human food, whatsoever—it was Jaehaerys who was truly in need of nourishment. Yet the delicate strands of his silver hair were a secret you dared not expose.

With wide, innocent eyes and a pleading smile, you turned your gaze to Tym, your voice a gentle lilt. “You’ve been so gracious and accommodating, Tym. Might I trouble you for a glass of water to soothe my parched throat?”

His expression faltered for a moment, surprise flickering across his face, before it transformed into a smirk that danced across his lips, revealing a charming dimple. With a nod of understanding, he lifted himself from his seat and made for the door, ready to fulfill your request.

The moment he stepped beyond the threshold, you seized the opportunity. Raising your wrist to your mouth, you punctured a vein with your sharp fangs, allowing a few precious droplets of your vampire blood to trickle into the simmering stew. The rich, coppery liquid blended seamlessly with the bubbling broth, and just as swiftly, your wrist healed, the wound disappearing as if it had never existed.

You leaned over the sleeping form of Jaehaerys, your voice a delicate whisper entwined with the warmth of your concern. "Jaehaerys, my sweet," you murmured softly, gently brushing tousled silver strands from his forehead. "You must wake and eat."

The boy’s lips pouted, instinctively shaking his head in protest, prompting you to coo in a soothing tone as you gave him a gentle shake. "Just a few bites, darling, then you can drift back into slumber. I promise it will help."

Slowly, his violet eyes began to flutter open, blurriness giving way to confused recognition. "Munās," he murmured, the word escaping his lips like a soft caress. A tender smile graced your face at the endearing term, encouraging him along as you lifted a spoonful of the stew to his mouth. (Aunt)

As he slowly sat up, the blanket slid away, unveiling his Targaryen silver hair glistening in the soft light. With a cautious lean, he accepted the offering, his tiny bites deliberate and slow, while you continued to weave sweet encouragements into the air.

Another harrowing cough wracked your small frame as you lay ensconced in the shadowy confines of your hut. Tears welled in your eyes, cascading down your cheeks as the weight of despair pressed upon your fragile heart, specter of death lurking ever closer.

Your head turned slightly, drawn by the soft patter of footsteps crossing the threshold of your sanctuary. Hope flared within you as you believed it might be your mother returning. Slowly, you blinked open your weary eyes to behold a small boy with bright, golden hair and piercing blue eyes, peering hesitantly around the dim room.

“Nik,” you croaked, a wan smile flickering to life despite your ailment.

Niklaus met your gaze, his own lips curving into a smile that illuminated the gloom. “Baby sister,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and scratchy. “You’ll catch my sickness too.”

With a puff of bravado, Niklaus drew up his chest. “It’s quite all right. I was chosen as the sacrifice.”

Your small brows knit in confusion, the gravity of his words lost on your young mind. “What?”

He began to explain with a playful glint in his eyes, “Initially, Elijah offered himself but Rebekah, Kol, and Henrik voted, and I was chosen to come instead.”

“Why?” you asked, a small pout forming on your lips.

A mischievous grin danced across your brother’s face as he playfully drew out a small box he had been clutching. "Because, dear sister, I've brought gifts."

With that revelation, your sickened facade brightened, and hope rekindled within you. “Really?” you gasped.

“Indeed,” Klaus said, settling beside you, the box nestled comfortably in his lap. He opened it with care, revealing its treasures to you.

"Rebekah crafted this lovely flower crown just for you,” he announced, lifting out a quaint yet ruffled circlet made of daisies. A tender smile spread across your lips as Niklaus gently raised your head to place the crown upon it.

“Now, this is from Elijah,” he continued, holding up a delicate bracelet of tiny beads before sliding it onto your wrist. “He thought it would add a touch of color to your day.”

A frown grew on his face as he reached for yet another item. “Henrik was at a loss for what to offer, and Kol…” he hesitated, clearly exasperated, “Kol handed you an acorn.”

A delighted giggle escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all. “An acorn? Why on earth would he do that?”

“He thought it would be amusing,” Klaus replied, rolling his eyes, while you giggled in actual amusement, as he placed the acorn in your palm.

You gazed up at Niklaus with the purest adoration, your voice softening as you asked, “Now, what did you bring me?”

He hesitated for a moment, a shy smile creeping onto his face as he rummaged through the box once more. Finally, he withdrew a small wooden figurine, expertly carved into the likeness of a girl with delicate wings. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the beauty before you. “A fairy,” you gasped, snatching it from his hands with reverence.

“It took quite a bit of time to craft her,” your brother admitted, a hint of bashfulness coloring his cheeks.

Cradling the wooden figurine as if it were spun from glass, you murmured in awe, “I love her. I shall name her Nikola, after you.”

“I’m honored, baby sister,” Klaus replied, his smile brightening, though a shadow of concern lingered in his azure gaze as it wandered over your frail form.

A shadow fell upon the moment as a voice broke through, startling you both. “Niklaus,” came Finn’s stern tone from the entrance, his figure half-illuminated in the dim light, his gaze aflame with concern. “You ought not to be here.”

“I was merely—”

“It’s far too dangerous,” Finn interjected, his tone unyielding. “You must leave at once.”

Niklaus huffed, frustration laced in his voice. “Very well, I’ll take my leave.”

With a final, gentle squeeze of your hand, he cast a glare at Finn as he slipped out of the hut.

“He was only bringing me gifts,” you murmured to your brother softly, seeking to defend Klaus.

Finn turned his gaze upon you, his features softening entirely. “He is but a boy, sister, which means his body is more susceptible to the fever.”

“Oh,” you replied, frowning in understanding. Your eyes flickered to him, a hopeful smile gracing your lips. “But you have a gift for me as well, yes?”

A roguish grin unfurled on Finn’s lips as he lowered himself beside you, leaning in conspiratorially. “Indeed... my delightful company."

You pouted, feigning dissatisfaction at his answer. Finn relented swiftly, his eyes twinkling. “Fear not, sweet sister, for I come bearing treasures.”

From behind his back, he revealed your favorite flower—a rare middlemist bloom—its delicate petals unfurled like secrets waiting to be whispered. “But this doesn’t grow in our region,” you gasped, voice cracking yet lilting with awe.

“Indeed,” Finn replied, his expression warm as he regarded the flower. “I traveled great distances to find it, and what’s more, there’s something undeniably special about this one.”

“What is it?” you inquired, your heart racing with excitement.

“I’ve been practicing magic with Ayana,” he confessed, pride lighting his features. “And I have successfully cast a spell to ensure this flower shall never wilt.”

Your eyes widened in wonder, absorbing his words. “You mean it will remain this way forever?”

“Yes,” he affirmed gently, placing the flower delicately within your small hands. “Let it symbolize my eternal love for you.”

Your youthful heart raced at his declaration, a radiant smile gracing your lips. “Eternal, truly?”

“Indeed, my flower,” Finn replied softly.

As that memory enveloped you, a bittersweet thought gnawed at your heart. Finn's ‘eternal love’ had faltered in the wake of your misstep, a fleeting mistake that had cast a long shadow over your bond. The pain lingered like a specter, even as you tended to Jaehaerys, carefully guiding him to sip the savory stew infused with your healing blood. Each gentle caress of your hand across his fevered brow was filled with an unspoken hope.

The tranquility was shattered, a sound like breaking glass slicing through the air, pulling you from your reverie. You whipped around, your heart racing as you caught sight of Tym, his gaze locked onto the boy child. “Tym,” you breathed, feeling a prickle of dread.

“The boy’s hair,” he spat, voice laden with accusation. “It’s silver!” You flinched at the loudness of his words, your eyes darting to Jaehaerys, who, to your relief, appeared to be deep in slumber once again.

You felt a wave of dread wash over you, the boy nestled against you oblivious to the chaos. “He’s a Targaryen bastard,” you countered, your wide eyes feigning innocence, your voice a whisper of urgency.

Tym shook his head vehemently, his once warm expression now twisted by suspicion. “No, no! You called him Jaehaerys,” he exclaimed, his finger jabbing toward you like a dagger. “Today was the prince's funeral! Did ya kidnap him?”

Your heart sank, frustration simmering beneath your composed exterior. You raised your hands, palms facing him in an attempt to calm the brewing tempest, as if easing a wild beast. “No, please. Just calm down,” you urged, your tone laced with reason.

Yet a spark ignited within Tym’s gaze, transforming his concern into something darker. “Perhaps there’s a reward out for the two of you,” he sneered, the words dripping with malice. With that, he turned to leave.

But before he could take a step, you appeared before him with a feral grace that startled him. He stumbled backward, landing abruptly on his rear as shock flared in his eyes. “What the fuck are you?”

With a soothing tone, you replied, “I need you to calm down, Tym.” You tried, almost desperately, to appeal to a semblance of mercy within him.

In a frantic attempt to escape, he began to crawl away, but you were far too quick. Swiftly, you seized his chin in a gentle yet firm grip, directing his gaze to meet yours, channeling your compulsion. “Calm down,” you urged, feeling the power of your words weave through the air like tendrils of shadow.

Gradually, you noticed the tension in his shoulders ease, yet a gnawing uncertainty tugged at your mind. Yes, you were a stranger to him, but the haste with which he spoke of rewards for both you and Jaehaerys left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, you whispered, “What were your intentions with me?”

The compulsion settled over him like a shroud, and he answered without hesitation, the words spilling forth in a smooth, almost languid cadence. “A pretty girl comes to a lonely man's door. It’s practically a gift from the gods.”

“And what if I did not reciprocate those feelings?” The question escaped your lips with a pang of trepidation. Deep down, you feared you already knew the answer.

Tym shrugged, his gaze locked with yours, a reckless glimmer in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re a girl, and I'm a man.”

A weary sigh escaped you, disappointment settling like a stone in your chest. You dropped back onto your heels, your mind swirling with the implications of his words. In a world where predators lurked in shadows, your thoughts danced with the darkest possibilities—his intent to claim you while you slept, disregarding your will and robbing you of your decency, mere steps away from a child.

Deep sorrow enveloped you, thick and suffocating. With men like this, the glimmer of hope for any kind man felt like a cruel joke. “I genuinely believed you to be different—a bit strange, yes, but kind.” Your voice softened, laced with disbelief. “And now I see you possess the same animalistic traits as the rest.”

You paused, considering your next words with the weight they carried. “But I am not just any girl. And because of that I have the power and strength to protect other girls that cannot protect themselves.”

“And to do that,” you murmured, a chilling intensity igniting your gaze as your veins darkened beneath your skin, your pupils transformed into hungry slits, your fangs stretching long and sharp as moonlight kissed your features, “I must rid the world of men like you.”

Panic flared in his eyes, tangible and raw, yet your compulsion anchored him in place, keeping him eerily calm as you leaned closer, your breath a whisper of silk. “I haven’t fed in days. Soothe your mind by knowing that I shall savor every drop.”

With that, you descended, your fangs finding purchase in the soft flesh of his neck. His warm blood surged into your mouth, hot and intoxicating, even as he struggled against the inevitability of his fate, the frantic thumps of his heart echoing the finality of the moment, while his protests faded into a desperate silence — knowing it was a battle he could not win.

You lay in a restless slumber, your breaths ragged and shaky, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on your brow like dewdrops in the pale light of morning. Once again, Esther softly dabbed a cool, damp cloth over your forehead, worries etched deep in her face as she watched her youngest child struggle to summon the strength to open her weary eyes.

“Mama,” Your voice emerged, frail and whispered, like the rustle of leaves in a faint breeze.

Esther’s warm, deep-brown eyes locked onto her daughter’s, and a bittersweet smile graced her lips, tinged with sadness. “Hush, my love, I am here.”

The young girl gaze held Esther’s, filled with a mixture of trust and fear, as your mother’s tender hands continued to soothe your frail, sickly form. Yet, as the heat surged through your small body, you could not suppress the trembling words that slipped from your lips, “Am I going to die?”

For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze in the hut. Esther’s hand stilled, her heart clenched tightly in her chest. She diverted her gaze, struggling to conceal the tears that threatened to spill, the weight of her daughter’s words echoing in the silence. After a brief struggle for composure, she raised her hand to wipe away the dampness from her cheeks, looking down at the precious girl before her with fierce determination. “No, my sweet. You shall be just fine.”

A heavy stillness enveloped the hut, the world outside a distant murmur as your small voice broke through it once more, tremulous yet bold, “Will Father be sad if I die?”

Esther felt her heart shatter at those words, each syllable a dagger to her already broken spirit. Mikael harbored disdain for you, a constant reminder of his wife's unforgivable betrayal. Fortunate that he remained unaware of Niklaus’s lineage, yet Esther’s sweet daughter nevertheless yearned for her father’s love, seeking any semblance of affection in a heart hardened by resentment.

In that moment, Esther summoned what remained of her resolve, donning the familiar mask of tenderness, “Of course, he shall be, my star.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, yet she couldn’t bear to shatter the fragile threads of hope that clung to her daughter.

As your eyes fluttered shut once more, the lull of despair washed over Esther. She turned away, struggling to disguise the stark truth that loomed ever closer: her precious child hung at death's door. She could not bear the loss of another—never again, not after Freya.

Flaws ran deep in Esther, but they were borne of circumstances beyond her control; the bond she shared with you was a force unto itself. Perhaps it was the innocence of her youngest that drew Esther in, or perhaps it was the stark contrast to her other children. The warmth of your light was undeniable, a glow that illuminated the fears she dared not confront. Still, she would love them all—though deep down her heart loved you most.

With a surge of fierce determination, she pressed her hand to her abdomen, feeling the promise of new life stirring within her—a babe that once again grew. Yet the sacrifice loomed before her.

Night had cast its velvety cloak over the world; the moon watched solemnly as her family succumbed to slumber. Gathering the materials for her desperate ritual, Esther prepared with practiced hands. The moment felt both heavy and sacred. With a steady resolve, she sliced her palm, crimson droplets spilling forth to dance upon your fevered brow. Then, she cradled her daughter’s head, her other hand resting over her own womb.

With a whisper that quivered in the air like a prayer, Esther began to murmur the spell—repeating it like a mantra, “Hanc vitam in eam.”

"Hanc vitam in eam."

"Hanc vitam in eam."

Each iteration grew more fervent, woven with her love and desperation, a last thread of hope tethering her spirit to your fading vitality.

When she finally opened her eyes, a wave of relief washed over her like the dawn breaking through the darkest night. Your strained features had eased, the pallor giving way to the flush of life. A sob escaped Esther, raw and unrestrained, as she sank beside her precious child, lifting the fragile frame into her arms.

All that mattered now was the warmth of your body against her own, even as blood seeped unnoticed from between her legs, the physical price of her choice.

A/N — actually confirmation that reader is esther's fav. also to go in more detail of reader's infatuation with finn, it's mostly because in her time, you were raised to become the perfect wife, and her mother always used to tell her, "when looking for the right husband, he should be like finn." obviously she took that too literally.

Next up, Reader returns to King's Landing...

Anywayyy

ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴋᴀᴇʟsᴏɴs

(can you tell I made this within an hour ;) )

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

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@anakilusmos @spacexdrago @strawberymilktea @snowtargaryen @fiction-fanfic-reader @feelingfaye @sxlsvv @crystal-siren @no-one0804 @tojisprincess @meraxesruin @supernaturalstilinski @talilosha@emerald-error20 @athanasia-day @mynameisbaby9 @lexi-anastastia-astra-luna @siriusblackrunmeover @shilphy87 @moonstruksandco

[shocymer]

Redemption

"To him who's giving you a second chance, If there's heaven and hell, would you still risk everything for him?"

Pairing : mafia!Mingi × f!reader

Word counts : 6,1k

Contents and Warning : 18+ smut mdni! , mafia! AU, mention of illegal drugs, TW! mention of abused (undetailed), mention of rape (undetailed), attachment issue, suicide attempt (see the end notes), smoking cigs!mingi, action, gunfight, bloodshed, soft dom!mingi, oral (giving), size kink, slightly choking, unprotected sex, cumshot, creampie, husband!Mingi.

× This works is part of "The Brothers Series", and never meant to represent Mingi in any shape or form ×

Cold. Ache. Numb joints. Struggled to blink your eyes for a few times, you found yourself laying down in the dark alley for don’t even know how many hours have passed. Slowly moving your bruised frail hand to reach those chapped lips of yours. A familiar deep voice startled you. You saw those man through the corner of your eyes.

He's leaning against the alley wall next to you. Lighted his cigarette, before letting out a puff of smoke that slowly dissolve into thin air.

“Just like I told you before young lady. You should take my last offer.”

The tears rolled down your cheek. Recollecting your memories how he found you in the similar state a week before, except it isn’t worse as now. With the same bruises covered all over your body, due to escaping from your abused household, you could still save that perfect healthy legs of yours.

His words kept ringing inside of your head. As it’s like forced to get out of it. “Come with me, I can guarantee your safety.” Made you rethink over few times. Who else should I trust? People who only called themselves family constantly abusing you whenever they like just to venting out their anger issues. So far you could endure it all, but unfortunately not last night. In attempted to fight back, your legs get broken instead. Right in the middle of the night after all of those hell ride, you dragged your limping self to this dark alley with the only remaining strength.

The man shrugged his shoulder in impatience. Waiting for your answer who’s still silently cry while laying on the cold asphalt not moving an inches.

“So, how is it?” he’s asking your final decision.

You turn your head towards him, mouthing the words “Please take me.” Before the consciousness left you out.

He throw away the remaining cigarette that slipped between his fingers. Stepped on it with the tip of his sole then walk slowly towards your body. He crouched down while scanning your miserable state.

Shook his head as if he felt the pain after seeing you, then a deep sighed left from his mouth. “What a poor soul, you should’ve decided earlier.”

After he brushed off the dust on his black suit a little bit, he carried you into his arms. Proceed to walk step by step towards the end, greeted by his men who’s immediately open the car door for him. Then they drove away, taking you out of that terrible dark alley, leaving it’s coldness and your past behind.

⁠✧

“As expected you’re doing a good job.” His sweet voice echoed in your ears, quite the opposite of his intimidating looks.

It’s the same man who saved you a few years back, Song Mingi. He’d been diving in illegal activities since the beginning of his life, doing a lot of dirty works neatly. His men were scattered everywhere, all thanks to the connections he had built from a long time ago. And you think you’re also part of them.

You devoted your entire life for him as he’s your salvation. Obediently do everything he ordered without hesitation. Despite all of the sin he had done, never in any slightest he will put you in danger. To the point you’re getting bored of hearing his same message every time you’ll go on a mission.

“If the situation getting worse and you are in unfavorable state, find me. I’ll take care the rest of it.”

Sometimes you want to protest. Due to a lot of experiences of working under him for many years, you should be able to handle the worst possible thing. But he always forbids you, questioning your own safety and it ended with a long lecture. If so, what can you do? You can only sit with your head down waiting for him to finish his scolding. But deep down inside you’re happy about it.

“I just did what my master told me to do.” You responded in bliss everytime he praises you.

His fingertips run trough the strands of your hair, stroking it in delicate manner. “Good girl.” While looking into your eyes proudly. His smile is intoxicating. That’s become a strong reason for you to do his errands perfectly.

“This is for your hard work.” He put a white fancy paper bag on your bed. Then giving you few last caress on top of your head before leaving. Your eyes trailing his presence till it disappear behind the door.

When you peeked at the contents, it was a bundle of money and a jewelry box with small note on it.

Throw away the old one, I know it shredded into pieces.

- M.

You laughed at the note. How could you throw it away, that was the first gift he gave to you. You already guessed that the second you open the box, it’s an exact same bracelet that wrapped around your wrist for years, struggled to keep intact after it wrecked on your last two missions. Well, he’s pretty sweet for a criminal.

⁠✧

Different days, different matters. Beside the other trivial works, his biggest main source is the casino. What made him furious was someone trying to sabotage it by smuggling illegal drugs in. He already had one or two suspect names and somehow believed they’re located in a red light district area. Now, you’re into a heat arguments with him, hating every nonsense ideas that spurt out of your pretty lips.

“No. Definitely not.” He crossed his arms, sure thing your words flamed his anger even more.

“It’s much easier for me to blend in there. You’ll get their information faster.” You talk quietly afraid of his wrath. He always lets you join him wherever he goes. Except for one place, the red light district. Either he left you at his place or he never told you that he would go there.

Frustration overwhelmed him, ended up taking off his black spectacle. “I hate to say this sweetie, but I’m a man and you’re a woman. I can’t let you go there.”

“But the sex worker..” You averted your gaze from him, hesitant to continue. “are mostly women, I thought that I can disguise as one of them.”

He immediately got up from the chair and walked towards you. His thumb and index finger grabbed your chin, turning your face to him, made you looking straight into his eyes. “Listen young lady, it’s not worth of the risk. I-” he shook his head then release the grip from your chin.

“I lost my mother there. She was brutally ganged by multiple crazy bastard.” You could see his jaw tightened, his stare were full of resentment. “I was only six that time. Then, father brought me here.”

Ah, somehow you’re familiar with the father figure he told you about. You believed there’s 8 of them who’s adopted by the father. As you remember, they named themselves KQ Fellaz. They’re quite famous cartel where you used to live before. Even though their existence is still questionable, but at that time people keep talking about them. You don’t even know if Mingi was part of it. In fact, you think he’s the father itself due to him has saved you before.

Now you understand, why he strictly banned you from going there. He didn’t budge at all after spilling over his bitter past. Couldn't stand the look on his face, you bring your warm hand to cupped his cheek, caressing it slowly hoping it’ll calm him down. When you’re about to hug him, there’s a knock on the door. Both of you turned to the source of the sound in reflex.

“Come in!” Mingi yelled.

A tall male figure entered the room. He looked friendly, his arms were wide open as if he was waiting for Mingi into his arms. Mingi’s eyes instantly lit up, then he returned the hug like an old friend who hasn't seen each other for a long time.

“Oh Yunho, I thought you wouldn’t come.” Mingi said as he let go.

“I’ll definitely come. But I couldn’t promise you exactly when.” He patted mingi’s back.

They’re lost in conversation, talking about those casino problems which this Yunho guy believed all the ruckus caused by the same prominent figure that interrupted his own works too. Meanwhile, you’re busy looking at him from the corner of the room where you’re sitting. He's the complete opposite of Mingi. His facial features are delicate, his skin is white as milk, his hair is short with dark brown colors and well styled. What equates them is only their clothing, they consistently wear black suits, although Yunho is much more formal, meanwhile Mingi looks a little bit casual just like how people dealing in this kind of works are supposed to be look like.

There’s no intimidating aura emits from him. Made you wonder, what works he’s in with those kind of look? An entertainer? Or public figure? Who knows, maybe he’s one of informants that your master is looking for.

You stopped your thoughts when his eyes met with yours. He gave you a soft smile, before turned back to Mingi.

“You’re into adopting too ?”

“She is..” Mingi took a quick glance at you, a thin smile formed his lips, “..my tool. You know, I’m not as good as father.” He always takes time to praise no one know whether those figure exist whenever he mentioned its name. Using his index and middle fingers, he gestured you to come over him.

You obediently approached Mingi, his arm automatically wrap around your waist as asserting your ownership to the person he’s talking to. If he did this, it means Yunho is one of his important business partners. But wait, they’re mentioned those same “father” before. So..

Yunho only chuckled at the sight of you two. Then immediately diverted it, “Tell me what else do you need?” he asked.

“I really need their exact location. Ya know there’s dealers activity around the red light district, but I’m still doubting whether it’s legit their quarters or their operation zone only.” Mingi reached for the lighter in his pocket to light the cigarette that placed between his lips. Smoked on it once or twice.

“I sent my men to check it last week, but fuck there’s no words back till now.” He continued while looking far away out of the window.

Yunho could sense the annoyance radiating through his words. “And? What’s your next move?”

He grinned while imagining how he would ravage those wretch. “Wiped clean their base of course. I don’t like any pests slink in my lovely fields.”

Knowing what to do, Yunho promised him that he’ll be back for few days to dig more information. Before leaving, he put his hand on Mingi’s shoulder, leaning closer to talk beside him in low tone. “Remember, don’t act rashly.” When Mingi turned to him, he only gave him a faint smile, “Oh and keep an eye on your surrounding bud.” Then, he patted Mingi’s shoulder for few times and walk away out of the room, leaving you two alone.

⁠✧

“.. Yes sir, please go this way. We can talk about it in my office.” The old man that known as the manager guided Mingi as soon as he set his foot at the casino entrance.

You look around, the situation is still the same as the normal days. Crowded by people who enjoy betting their own wealth, plus the sound of slot machines were rumbling in the background as you go deep inside. The casino has been around for almost a decade. Even though it’s still quite new, but its reputation is well known to be able to compete with others. And of course Mingi despise any slightest intervention for the continuity of his business. So, he intended to find out everything with his own eyes today.

“How about we talk about the matters here. I want to enjoy the casino atmosphere right now.” He declined the offer politely, giving a convincing reason with the only sole purpose which is to observe everything clearly.

The manager immediately snapped his fingers, called several waiters to prepare the VIP seats that located in the middle of the casino. Of course anything is done for your master as the respective owner of this place.

“Sir, would you like some ladies for the companion, before we start?” The same old man made an offer while inviting him to take a seat.

He gestured with his hand to reject it. “No need, I bring my own. Shall we start now?” He pulled you to sit on his lap as soon as he sat on the couch. You catch what he means right away, then you begin to put your hand behind his neck while the other one rest on his clothed chest, acting like one of his own ladies. But on the contrary, he didn’t have any girls around.

All of his past trauma was swallowing over him, every girl touches made him uncomfortable in some kind of a way. Disgusted by the fact how his mother’s life ended by several men, he’s afraid of the possibility to unleashed the sickening behavior as a man whenever any woman approached him. But after he met you, he’ll bring you along whether to meet the clients or some of the influential person on his work. Therefore, beside of doing your job as his underlings, the other purpose was to avoid some ladies that sent to accompany him in every meetings with them. And that cause you often mistaken as his woman by a lot of people he met.

Back to the casino right now, you directed your gaze all over the room, trying to catch if something strange might be happen. Sometimes, you took a glance at Mingi who’s still talking to those manager, trying to read his cautious expression to the surrounding. He’ll occasionally caress your thigh for a few times, only to keep your composure.

You flicked your eyes to the side, noticing the odd. Proceed to run your fingertips from his chest up to his neck and end up covering your lips from the side which is pressing against his right ear. Mingi hold the grunts that almost escape from the back of his throat as he feel your soft breath hitting on his skin, and he finally giving the attention you wanted.

“2 o’clock direction. I’ll check it right away.” You whispered into his ear.

His eyes aimed at the place you’re referring to, then slightly lean away from you. “My sweetie is bored huh? You wanna look around?” He brushed his palm on your back gently, still didn’t drop the act.

“Yes please, can I?” You cooed at him, giving your pampered look as convincing as possible.

“Of course, everything for you baby.” Then he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds before let you go.

You didn’t expect he will kiss you right away. Isn’t it too much for a mere acting? Wait, did he repay your previous actions? Mingi’s expression was hard to read, he only smirked at you as if “good luck” was the only two words that written on his face. However, you swift away towards the possible problems occurred, after showed them your sweetest smile for the last time.

Well, it didn’t go smoothly as you wanted. You pretend to be interested in the slot machines that lined up near you, under the pretext of approaching those suspicious figures stealthily. But it ended up they’re in the middle of the crowd where it’s difficult for you to reach. You tried to sneak in, squishing your body among a lot of people. To be honest, this wasn’t your main forte. Your part is to deal with the target directly as a decoy. And there’s no other option, it’s too crowded for any commotion to occur, so the only thing you can do is watching them closely.

They drew closer to each other, it seems like exchanging something under their coat. You accidentally stole glances with one of them, and somehow he looks quite familiar but there’s no other clue because half of his face is covered with hat. You still tried to get closer carefully, but alas it didn’t work. They’re gone, blending in with the crowd, wearing the same black coat with people around in the casino.

You turned your gaze to Mingi from the place you’re standing right now. Only realized that his eyes was fixed on you from the earlier you left. Slightly shook your head at him, you gave him signal that the target was gone. He rolled his eyes, immediately stopping his conversation with the manager before barging out of the casino furiously. You followed him behind, who’s cursing along the way towards his car.

Pulled the highest gear and stepped on the gas pedal, he’s driving in full speed. His eyes pierced straight towards the road as if he could tear it apart. There’s too many questions running inside of your head, but you’re afraid to ask. So you just sit quietly on the passenger seat beside him.

He pressed the bridge of his nose every now and then, hoping it’ll reduce the headache a little bit. But it didn’t work either way. He decided to break the silence after quite some time. “Haa.. I can’t trust those old man either.”

You dared yourself to give him a response, “why? You have known him for a long time though.”

“It just.. my own suspicion. Nothings deep.” He looked much calmer than before while still focused on driving his car. “That’s why I bring you instead of useless bunch of my men.”

Right, the casino manager must be recognize them here and there if Mingi wanted to check it in secret. But it still didn’t work, you lost those troublemaker too. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t do it properly.”

He clicked his tongue before bringing his fingers that belong to his right hand, running through some stands of your loose hair. “Relax, sometime it tend to happen.” You thought he would be mad, but actually he calmed you instead. To the point you could feel the cold sweat enveloped over your palm because you’re too afraid of him.

His phone is ringing, the incoming call notification were written on the head unit screen, it’s from one of his men. Informed him that they had found the target location. He swerved the steering wheel all at once, immediately drove to the location they’re referring to. Just like how he speculated before, he felt satisfied that it was right, those bastards base was in the red light district area.

Upon the arrival, he gave you a warning sign to not to get out of the car no matter what happen, before rushing out and being greeted by his several men. You saw him through the car window, the way his annoyed expression drawn on his face, but still kept the composure remain. It can be seen that he burn the cigarettes tip and taking a deep drag of it, just to calm himself down.

He pulled out his favorite handgun, racking the slide once to load in the bullet, then he gave the command to break into those place. His men spreading all over the main hall in swift motion, but strangely there’s not a single person was on guard there. Due to unexpected of this big place, Mingi ordered them to split up and told them to kill anyone they met.

On the other hand, you just sat quietly in the car, even though occasionally heard the gunshots noise one after another coming from the mansion which couldn't be muffled by how tight the car was. Oh to be the passenger princess, you’re hating how useless you are right now.

You startled by the sudden rang coming from Mingi’s phone, Yunho’s name was pop out on the screen. Hesitant whether you should answer or ignore it afraid of being too nosy. After you think clearly like how careless is your master to left out his important being here, you end up slide the green button to the right.

“Hello, where are you right now?” Yunho’s anxious voice heard across the phone.

You answered him carefully, “Uhm sir, it’s me. We’re in the red light district right now.”

“Wait, where’s Mingi?”

“He’s in the big white mansion,” you look around trying to describe how it’s look like. “..it’s located deep in the area, we turned left from the four junction of the main road, then-”

He cut off your explanation, “Shit, he’s lured in! All of it was a trap.” He sighed, “can you reach hi-” Good heaven, the call disconnected due to signal lost.

You shook the phone, hoping it’ll catch the signal back, but it didn’t work. As soon as you gathered your mind, you took the 'smith and wesson' out of the glove compartment, slipping in between the thigh band under your little black dress. Getting out of the car, you entered the white mansion in instant.

It's weirdly too calm on the first floor. Feeling like lost the sense of direction, you just followed your gut. Running to the left wing of mansion, checking on every single room, you only wished to find Mingi as soon as possible. On every step you wondered, Why did the gunshots noise stopped? It makes you difficult to track the source of the fight.

Shit thing’s happen, you just entered the wrong room when lost in your thought. There’s a man relaxed sitting on a big armchair while smoking his cigar. You really want to back off, but he already saw you first. You decided to play along rather than causing more complicated thing.

“Good grief, they sent a new bitch”

You came closer to his side while giving him a formality smile. Putting your hand to his shoulder and leaning over him, just keeping the act before you intended to attack him quickly. Alas, he gripped your wrist instead, after that twisting your arm and held it back. He’s grabbing the chunk of your hair then yanked your head to the side, “ I knew you’re not just an ordinary bitches”

You elbowed him in the face with other free hand and giving him a round kick in attempt to released yourself. You took a few steps back, pulled out your handgun then shooting him right on his leg. But if feels nothing to him, he proceed to kick your hand which holding the gun till it flew away. You dodged his every blows as best as you can. Cause it’s impossible to counter him with your only bare hands meanwhile he’s much bigger than you. In the end, he managed to grab your hair again. The pain spreading all over your head as if it almost ripping out your scalp.

You’re just about to give up, there’s no energy left in you. But the door slammed loudly, woke you up. There’s your master firing shots eagerly to this bastard. As soon as his dead body fall onto the floor, you run towards Mingi who’s covered in blood stain.

Your voice was shaking while wiping the blood out of his face, “you’re hurt.”

“It’s not mine.” Referring to those blood. He hold your hand gently, staring deep into your eyes, looking at how messed up you’re right now. “But you are the one who’s injured”

He crouched down to pick your gun and giving it back to you. “Who else using this gun type besides you.” After that, he smoothed your hair, running his finger through it. How could he’d be this gentle despite in the midst of chaos. It feels like the world is collided and there’s only you two left.

But those feels didn’t last long, both of you drawn to the sound of explosion coming from the deep within the mansion. You just aware that half of it was burned in fire when you looked outside. He took you to another side of mansion which he considered it safe. On your way there, many dead bodies laying around. You could identified one and two of them, only realizing it mostly coming from Mingi’s side.

“You didn’t lose right?” You asked him while still running hand in hand.

“What makes you think like that?” He turned towards you, “ I killed ‘em all on the other side.”

Before continuing his words, both of you were blocked by the groups of his men right in the middle of mansion grounds. When he was going to hand you over to them with the intention of taking you out safely, one of them firing the gun. The bullet grazed your upper right arms, made you fall onto your knees due to shock.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?!!” Mingi was furious at the sight, he bombard the remaining bullets he had to them without thinking, gunned them down one by one. However, he’s still out numbered. Whether he want it or not, he received multiple shots that pierced through his body. You almost gone crazy, seeing him so badly injured with your own eyes. It got to the point he couldn’t stand on his own feet anymore.

You stepped to the front, covering him in injured state while shooting them with your trembling left hand. Not too long, the strong wind hitting the ground while you’re still busying yourself in the gunfight, followed by the sound of helicopter blade getting closer. You squinted your eyes trying to see it clearly, then found a muscular man shooting his machine gun towards Mingi’s underlings, from inside of the helicopter.

“Step back! We’ll take over.” Yunho shouted, walking from your behind while pointing his gun at them.

Catching on the situation, you backed yourself out. Proceed to put Mingi’s arm around your shoulder then carried him to the safer place. You laid him down slowly, before starting to rip some part of your dress in attempt to stop his bleeding. Your tears fell right away in a moment he struggled to reach your cheek.

You hold his hand, “please don’t move too much, I tried my best to treat your wound okay?”

When you finished covered his wounds, his grip was weakened. You can’t think clearly at the moment, checking his heartbeat back and forth by pressing your ear on top of his chest. You tried to talk to him over and over, hoping he would stay conscious. Till there’s one time you couldn’t feel his breath anymore.

“No! please don’t leave me!” You cried out, crumbling apart, there’s no point to continue your life if he’s gone. Everything’s went silence as if there’s no gunfight going on in the background.

You decided to racked the slide of your gun, then pointing out under your chin. The tears keep running out of your eyes as you looked down to his body. You took a deep breath, then putting you finger to the trigger. Chanting his name in the whisper. After that, you didn’t felt anything as you went black out.

⁠✧

More than a week passed since that day, you’re sitting in front of his room with your bandaged arm. Luckily you’re immediately fainted right before pulling the trigger. If not, you wouldn’t know if Mingi is still alive until now. He woke up a few days ago after he went into short coma. His three brothers took turns looking after him, you don’t know the rest of their name but surely Yunho is one of them.

To be honest, you really wanted to scold him the second he woke up, but Yunho already done that, so you don’t need to.

“He’s looking for you.” Yunho said that to you before he left.

You knocked on the door, then stepping into Mingi’s room. He smiled at you as soon as you come closer towards his bed. Right now, he’s leaning against the headboard with his naked torso covered in the bandage, he looks much better than the last time you saw him. You sure have known for a long time how fit his body is. But not today, you felt something strange when you looked at his toned chest as if you want to run your fingertips through it.

“What’s wrong?” His voice interrupted your thoughts.

You shook your head in instant, “nothing.”

“C’mere.” He pulled you to sit next to him. Then brushing his hair back before he put his forehead into the nape of your neck. “Is it weird if I miss you this bad?”

You chuckled, starting to caress his hair gently. “No, you’re not. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” he’s still in the same position, mumbled his words.

“Yes I do, sir.”

He grunted while looking up at you. “Don’t call me sir.” His lips pressing against your ear, “call my name instead, okay sweetie?” He’s started to nibble your earlobe, flicking it using his tongue then tugging it between his teeth.

Biting your lower lips, you tried to hold the sensation of him sucking on your skin. You put your hand on his chest, which had been itching to touch it since your first step into his room. Teasing him a little bit more by trailing on every curved of his chest to his abdominal muscle with your second fingers. He groaned, while he’s still kissing on the side of your neck.

He talked between the kisses, “you know what, actually I want to devour you back in the casino.” He bite on your neck, “the way your plumped ass pressed on my cock.” He bite you again, “the way your delicate fingers touched my skin.” He bite you for the third time before whispering into your ear, “and of course, the way your lips slammed with mine.”

You turned to him, circling your hands to the back of his neck. Staring deep into his eyes, mouthing “I love you” then began to devour his lips passionately. He gave the same energy by parting your lips with his tongue, trying to collide it with yours. You moan between the kisses as he grope your butt to pick you onto his lap.

But really, this isn’t the stamina of someone who just woken up from a coma while still being injured here and there. You grinded on his clothed cock, feeling it growing hard on every stroke you made.

He parted out from the kiss only to see the aroused face of yours. The way your half lidded eye staring on him and how red is your flushed cheek, making him groan on the sight of it. He brought his hand to pull your skirt up, starting to teased your wet clothed clit using his thumb that moving in circle. You throw your head back while moaning out his name.

His other hand slightly choking on your throat while you still dry humping his cock erratically, all of it brought you to the cloud nine as you came in your panties, drenched it out to the core.

“Ah Mingi, stop!” You couldn’t resist your body to spasm after pinching your clit hard, he didn’t give you break to riding down your first orgasm. He’s satisfied at how messy you are right now, then giving you a quick kiss on your lips as a reward.

Didn’t want to lose, you started trailing kisses on his chest down to his stomach. And stopped right in front of his bulge, unbuttoning his pants, then letting it out sprung free. His cock is swollen hard and throbbing at every single touch you made. You looked up at him, feeling proud of yourself as he can’t do anything and only anticipating what will you do next.

You licked the tip of his hard member, twisting it between your tongue to the left and right, before sucking on it hard. Your hand started stroking the remaining length up and down, while you’re bobbing your head to bring it deeper touching to the back of your throat. He couldn’t help but groan loudly, while he grab your hair as it guide you to move faster. “I- I’m so close baby.” You could feel his cock is pulsing, then he shoot his load into your mouth.

Sticking out your tongue, you showed him that you took all of his cum then you swallowed it all the way. “Baby, ride my cock right away.” He cooed. You yanked your panties, and started to slide his cock slowly into your tight pussy. It’s unexpectedly big, that it's bulging out your lower belly everytime it hitting on your womb. At first you grinding it slowly, made him throwing his head back to the headboard. But after quite some time, he dig his fingers on your waist, thrusting his cock deeper and faster. You only cried out incoherent moan as he thrusting it frantically. Pain and pleasure becoming one, he gave one last hard thrust, before filled his cum into your pussy. You squirm and spasm as you feel his hot seed keep spurting in your womb.

He groaned, “that was so good.” Then tucked your hair behind your ear. While still sitting on his lap, you put your head on his shoulder trying to catch your breath.

“Baby..” he called you softly.

You still felt tired, didn’t budge at all in his arms. “Hmm?”

“I think my stitches are open.”

You immediately sat down to his side before seeing the blood seeping through his lower bandage. You shook your head. Ah, it looks like both of you have to be patient for quite some time, until Mingi recover completely.

⁠✧

Milan, 3 Years later.

“Mingi stop!” You pushed him while giggling at how ticklish he’s kissing you. He’s on top of you right now, planting kisses all over you neck, and leaving some mark on it.

You covered his mouth, this is your second attempt to stop him from attacking you. “Come on, there’s our babies around.” You sulking at him.

He back off easily every time you mention the kids. “Alright alright.” Then, he took a seat beside you obediently.

Mingi and you got a pair of twins right away after the marriage, now they’re almost two years old. Walking around the living room and playing with their toys.

Mingi decided to move out to the complete opposite of different continents after he recovered from the injuries. Leaving out the dangerous work and starting a new life with you instead. Sometimes he miss the old times. Just like right now, he’ll teasing you whenever remembered the piece memories of it.

“I can’t get it out of my mind the way you looked at me in those mansion.” He chuckled.

“What am I supposed to do? You’re dying, it’s not even funny.” You’re even more annoyed at him.

“It just, you don’t need to stain your hand by shooting those bastards to death.” He’s giving a serious looks on his face. “It was my biggest regret that I can’t protect you.”

You caress his cheek, “why? You’re doing your best and please stop blaming yourself.”

“It’s not like that, I want you to remain pure. So just let me bear all of your sin. I don’t want to drag you into the hell. An angel is supposed to be in heaven” He frowned, disappointed for all of the things that have been through.

You never know if he thinks about you like that, the sweet side of him never changed since the first time you met, he always save you no matter what happen.

You laughed, “I don’t want to stay in heaven by myself. Let me bring the heaven to you”

“Right, you always bring heaven to me though.” Shaking his head and starting to laugh too. He immediately stand up to approach the twins.

“Let’s wrap it up my prince and princess, it’s a nap time for you two.” He chase them around, which hating to take a nap.

You heard the doorbell rang, so you rushed to open the door.

“Oh Hello, Is Mr. Song at home?” A man who looks a little younger, looking for your husband.

“Wait a minute” You turned your back “Honey, there’s someone looking for you!” You’re going inside, taking his place to put your lovely twin babies to the bed.

Mingi walked towards the front door, fall silent for a moment, after looking at the figure who’s standing right in front of him. “Jongho?”

“Well, long time no see, brother.”

disclaimer : this works didn't instigate any psychological deviation so please seeking the professional when you feel unwell. All of it is purely fiction and for entertaintment purpose only.

[yuellii]

flawless night, forevermore

feat. ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, childe, kaveh, raiden ei ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they are so obviously in love with you

( or, in which i tie them to a taylor song i’ve been crazing over, but you don’t have to know the songs to read / understand )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, no other warnings

> part one / part two ( more characters )

KAMISATO AYATO. lover

His lips curled up with a fathomless fondness he did not even notice about himself. His ticklish gaze, his admiring eyes, his comforting silence—such a poor, poor man drowning in his hopelessness, falling love struck into the night.

Even atop the dewy grass that stained his carefully tailored clothes, he paid no mind to the mess as he preferred to hear you talk instead. The intelligence of a Kamisato was long forgone in the melody of your voice, and perhaps you had strum his heartstrings too much to the point he loses his senses. He forgets a lot of things about himself when he’s with you, perhaps at one point, even his own name.

Kamisato, the name that ties him to a lifetime of formality and not a single night of rest. A dreary lifetime that does not allow him to learn the wonders of love. But oh, how he loves you.

“I’ve always wanted one of those cute little tea tables,” you muttered into the cool winds under the glowing moon. Your finger absentmindedly traced an oval into the air, a motion that had his head following your invisible drawing. “We can sit together in the mornings and have tea before work.”

“Then we’ll get one,” Ayato affirmed. He failed to notice how his own grin had widened, simply as an automatic reaction from seeing your pleased smile at his response. “Little cushions for us to sit in, too,” he added on. “You know those round ones? We can have them in our favorite colors.”

Look at him, blushing over silly cushions.

There’s a dazzling haze in his eyes when he’s like this. It’s a spark that never runs out once ignited, for he has a history of rambling when he’s with you. “There is this porcelain tea set we can get, which has a pattern I know you’ll like,” he’ll say, further jumping to “And it comes in a set of four—we can always invite Ayaka and Thoma over to drink with us.” He’ll go on and on like this, fantasizing of a life where you lived together, happily ever after.

He’s imagined this for eons in his head. Such innocent-presenting ideas and remarks, but it’s obvious in the way he talks so fast. It’s ridiculously evident the more excited he gets as the night stretches on, that he’s been daydreaming of the moment you move in with him, so he may love you every day.

All he asks is to be forever yours, for as long as time permits.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

BAIZHU. sparks fly

It almost never rained in Liyue.

But his words were such a booming thunderstorm that no water droplet could ever compare, even amidst this cold, grey afternoon. And only when he finally blew you away like a thin stack of cards, did he feel a sharp sense of emptiness at the sight of you running off into the pouring rain.

Baizhu admitted that you were a burden to him. Boring, unintelligent, annoying—that you were a hindrance to be around. You were only a distraction to Qiqi, and more importantly, a bothersome presence to him.

It took all his willpower just to spit such venom from his tongue straight to your face—all his might just to convince you that seeing him is a bad idea. And yet, you still called him a liar.

“You mean none of those words,” you sharply inhaled via short, speechless breaths. He could tell you were breaking down from his hateful speech, but to his guilt, it was exactly what he wanted to see from you. “You’re just trying to drive me away again,” you spat out. You were trying to convince yourself: that fact alone was clear to him. But the longer he stayed quiet despite biting back the truth—biting back that he has fallen so immensely deep in love with you—you began to doubt yourself.

But the moment he watched your figure break down past this storm, he immediately crumbled with a sense of guilt much stronger than any curse he has ever wished upon himself.

Perhaps he was too harsh on you. Archons, perhaps he was too mean—this was exactly why he didn’t deserve you. You deserved better than such a sick, lowly man who could not even live for himself, instead binding his life to save others instead.

But still, even after all his own revelations and realization of his nonexistent self worth…

He was still a greedy, selfish man.

And that selfishness had him running right out of his door and into the pouring rain, not caring at how the sudden cold nipped and picked at his skin, or how the winds beat at his frail body. Not even the Archons could halt such a starvation for salvation—it was the only spark he had left to chase.

In this cold, dreary life—in this cold, dreary day alone—you still shone like the sun under the dim streetlights of Liyue upon this pale grey sky. His body still eased the moment you caught his eye, almost as if your gaze alone had suddenly removed every drop of sickness he self-injected into his own bloodstream, or as if you were the cure he was looking for all his life.

Such selfishness once again had his body fighting from collapsing when he desperately fell into your arms that held him so dearly. And the greed of mankind only snapped when found his lips settled so hopelessly against yours, clinging onto your kiss as if he would die tonight.

Truly, maybe he would. But for now, in your embrace, he feels the strongest he’s ever been since he sold his soul.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ALHAITHAM. enchanted

Archons, he hated these events, though he had no choice but to attend. No one could ever allow the Acting Grand Sage, even if he held so much spite, to escape the demeaning eyes of Sumerean publicity.

Alhaitham held himself as an independent soul. But this formalwear, this clanging of champagne glasses, this suffocating air—were definitely not so independent nor free.

This hall of aspiring young scholars and old men, all in one exhibit for the sake of research and networking. Academics is what they acclaim, but the Acting Grand Sage may be too thick of a personality for them (if he had one at all). But the only thing keeping his eyes open from boredom, quite surprisingly a person, was you.

You, who looked young compared to these much older alumni and long-time scholars. And it was truly you, out of the many faces in this room, who he could not name.

Your eyes met from across the room. Such a sliver of a chance—his eyes whispered a curious glance from the opposite wall among this dreary sea of scholars. There was a spark graced by the Electro Archon, perhaps; or maybe even a gush of wind from the God of Anemo. But every sense of composure was lost when his body moved on its own, walking himself closer and closer just to meet you.

It begins with hello; it always does. It continues with quick remarks, with “I’ve never seen you before,” and with “Have we met?” And soon enough, he feels like he’s in school again. He feels a flutter he has not known in years, an urge to talk quicker than he can think. The crinkle at the corner of your eyes has him immersed in amazement. The sole fact that you can crack a smile at him; a smile that wasn’t fake politeness like all these scholars.

For some reason unbeknownst to him, that expression of yours alone had his feet glued to the floor, like you’ve trapped him in such an engaging conversation he desperately could not let go. It was a forcibly dreadful night—you turned it flawlessly enchanting in a way that you read to him like a book, all in which he could not put you down once he begins.

And once the event ends, and he is forced to leave you so soon, he watches you walk away with an expression that he himself could not even read.

Wonderstuck.

He would never notice the light tint on his face, staining his cheeks all the way home.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

CHILDE. cruel summer

Left foot, right foot, tiptoe, right foot—hold the counter, hold the wall, hold the rail all the way up the steps… He’s got this.

One step down the hall, another foot down, a third one until he finds a steady rhythm. The room is hazy, the walls are spinning. His head hurts and he feels like a baby taking his first steps, so helpless and unsteady that he almost wants to cry again from exasperated frustration alone. Why was this so hard? Did he really hate himself so much, that he would stagger his way home from the bar like this?

One hand on the door, turn the knob, and—

Ah. He dropped his keys so loudly on the floor.

You woke up with a start from the bedside, immediately turning to him wide-eyed in both starling surprise from the noise, and more importantly, concern. He didn’t mean to wake you. He hated feeling guilty, but it was the exact feeling that crept up his spine once he saw the devastated look on your face. Frenzied eyes and dark circles—clearly you had stayed up just to wait for him, too.

“Ajax,” you voiced—a tone full of worry and heavy exhaustion, God, he felt so horrible. “Oh, Ajax, come here.”

As much as he didn’t like it when you cared for him like this, he was not immune to the sounds of your calling. His shaky legs carried him immediately, as if the alcohol in his system was pulling him towards you, too. “I’m fine,” he barely stuttered out. It was a claim he had to make immediately, a sign he was desperate to reassure you.

Your eyes grew heavier, though he did not know if they were lidded from concern or from sleepiness. Either way, he practically melted from the touch of your palms resting against his cheeks. So warm, but a much more pleasant warmth than the burning summer air that he just walked in, all the way home with a liquor-dazed mind.

“Have you been crying…?” Ah, and that was why your eyes were narrow—they were squinting at the sorry stains of tears that lined his cheeks. He forgot to wipe them, it seemed. It was almost laughable.

“No, just sweat from the heat.”

Crying over you… He’d never let you know that. To cry, to bleed, to die—you would never be the first person he tells.

“You reek of liquor…” Quite disgustingly so, he thinks. And yet, you still held his face so fondly, moving his head in such a gentle manner as you swiped his tear stains with the pads of your thumbs.

He stayed silent. He had no answer to this one.

“I love you,” he mutters, though it’s a confession nevertheless. And he says it so sadly—so miserably that you couldn’t help but sigh. He hates it, too. He hates it when you sigh. Because when you sigh, it means you’ll just let it go; No matter how many lies he tells, or how many times he cries, or how many secrets he keeps, you’ll still accept him like always.

“I love you, too.” And that was the worst line he’s ever heard.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

KAVEH. foolish ones

“Oh, woe is me…” Loves me, loves me not, loves me… “Did you happen to see anything in the mailbox?”

His roommate stared. “Go check it yourself.”

Kaveh heavily sighed. He couldn’t; He physically could not bear to do it. It’s not that he was lazy to get up, no. The real issue was the genuine grief he would feel when he opened the mailbox, only to see nothing inside. No special gifts, no romantic letters, and absolutely no confessions of love signed with your name.

It was embarrassing, really. To feel this dramatic and obsessed with words of admiration from you—oh, especially when Alhaitham found out about this whole lovesick ordeal. But he could not help his mind from just imagining it: the reflection of himself in your eyes as you finally confess your feelings of passion and love for him (feelings that didn’t exist, feelings he merely imagined you having, all so pathetically).

But he’s so weird, and he’s so terrible. To imagine a fabled life with you when you probably did not think about him this same way. How foolish. Did you daydream about him like he daydreamed about you every night before he slept? Did you think about him like he thought about you every time he sees your favorite color in the passing? Did you wait at your mailbox like he waited for any letters from you? No. No, you didn’t.

And he’s cried, quite humiliatingly. He’s cried that the perfect life he could picture himself having with you at his side would never be a reality. He’s cried a downpour of tears, simply because he allowed himself to be so caught up in a delusion that was so sick of him to conjure up.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“So sorry Kaveh, I already have plans…”

Plans with someone else. No wonder you hadn’t written him any messages, or contacted him in a while. That… was not the scenes he had in his head. His imaginations, his hopes, his dreams—they did not have someone else in them. For someone he was so hopelessly in love with, he felt so much hurt. A foolish lesson to be learned by a foolish romantic.

In the end, he’d just be talking himself to sleep again. He’d just smile at the sight of you flourishing. Without him, your world will go on turning. A world full of reciprocated love and devotion, one that he would never know.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

RAIDEN EI. you belong with me

The Raiden Shogun was self-destructive. No more than a few people knew of such a fact, but she was certainly one of them.

Because if she cared for her own wellbeing, truly, then she would not fall for selfish desires. Nor, would she be here now, sitting next to you outside a sliding screen in her private gardens of Tenshukaku, sipping your favorite tea and hearing your sweet voice ramble about something so unpleasant to her ears. If she prioritized her own emotions, then maybe she’d be living in blissful ignorance right now instead of listening to your woes over a lover… A lover that was not her.

“And then, she teases me,” you complained, though it was clear you hated it. You didn’t like whining about your partner, which was a good thing—but it made Ei feel sick, because it meant you really loved that woman. “I know she does that all the time, and I just need to get used to it,” you continued, “but sometimes, it gets too much, and she still doesn’t stop.”

But I wouldn’t do that to you, the archon thinks to herself. And suddenly, the tea isn’t as appetizing anymore, because her own words felt drilled onto her tongue, forever forbidden to speak aloud.

“Miko… Has always been like that,” Ei quietly admits instead. She doesn’t want to insult your lover, for that same person was also her own friend. She wanted to be supportive, but it was impossible when she was so in love with you, that she spent every second of each passing day just wishing she was in Miko’s place instead.

“Yeah… But—still, I mean…” You sighed, coming to a loss for words to describe the pink haired shrine maiden. “Is it really so hard to ask just for her to understand how I’m feeling…?” you whined in what seemed like genuine distress. Your face sunk into your hands, and it took all of Ei’s willpower just to keep her respective distance from a romantically taken friend.

But I understand how you feel, Ei once again thinks. She feels so dirty of a friend for comparing herself like this. I understand you better than she will ever.

“Ei…” you muttered. She almost chokes from the way you say her name. “What should I do…?”

Be with me, instead. “Don’t cry over something, or someone, you cannot control. It’s possible your personalities are just not fit for each other, you know.”

“But I love her, Ei…”

Ouch.

She clears her throat, recovering from sharp breath of air she just inhaled. A part of her just broke in that moment, and it was so obvious, too—her expression quickly changed, her body became stiff, her balance suddenly shifted, and yet…

You noticed none of it. Your head was too clouded over love for another woman that was not her; So clouded, in fact, you did not notice the way Ei almost began to tremble. The misery you carried only crafted tenfold for the archon, eternally unbeknownst to you.

But you don’t belong to her, anyways. So why was she crying?

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Two - Butchered Tongue

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 3.7k

a/n: a little late but here we are :)) I’m so grateful for all the nice people who have reblogged and commented!!

warnings: mentions of an orphanage, dead mums and Benji is still a little drama queen

song: Butchered Tongue - Hozier

chapter one

Benji hates the capital.

It stinks and it is always busy, with narrow dark alleys that lead nowhere and depraved people lining them.

His life has been ripped from him and handed into your hands. Hands free of calluses and scars, not a speck of dirt caked beneath their nails and yet, no matter how delicate and weak, they hold his fate.

He isn’t meant for a knight’s life, all honour, no freedom. And least of all he is meant for the life of a knight in this godforsaken city, which seemingly offers nothing but sin and tragedy.

Benji has always found the king to be terribly unlikeable. A slimy little man, who had been quick to put to the torch what his ancestors had built up in this realm. He had forgotten just how severe it all is, with his home so far removed from this but now, as he stands next to you, he thinks he could just vomit. He won’t of course, he isn’t like you, with your weak demeanour, to faint at that little bit of sun.

Today you still look pale, though you’d spent the last three days on bed rest, days which he had to spend simply waiting around in front of your chambers.

He was almost glad when he was informed that you were to visit one of the city’s orphanages.

In your hands you hold a woven basket and you listen to the nun introduce you to the children, with little humility.

He doesn’t understand why all the realm is always fussing over you, so far you have yet to live up to any of the tales that have been spun around your name.

Well except, perhaps, those of your beauty. Though it may pain Benjicot to admit it, it is clear as day that you are exquisite.

But still you do not seem as clever or as kind, let alone charming, as he had been led to believe, to him.

He hopes that you are vain and offended enough to want to be rid of him by the end of the week. He would likely be exiled then, but it seems a better destiny than spending the rest of his life devoted to some strange girl he’s only just met.

He had refused all marriage deals before this, and in this scenario he would never be able to bed anyone again. Truly an awful thing for a young man of his age to behold.

Uncomfortably he shifts from one foot to another as Sister Linda continues to rattle on. He’s avoiding to look into the sad faces of abandoned children, so he regards you instead, boring holes into your frame with all his might.

You are wearing the same smile he’d seen you wear during the knighting ceremony. Practised and detached. It seems quite unbelievable that anyone should fall for this masquerade of yours, but apparently it works.

You’re dressed in the colours of your house, though a paler version of them. Lilac. It has only very thin sleeves and he can see the fading imprint of his fingertips on your arm. He had gripped you a little harshly during your little incident, too much taken by surprise to consider his own strength, and then, of course, he was immediately praised for being the perfect pick for his position, so eager to protect his princess.

He should have just let you tumble to the ground, he thinks. But his instincts had betrayed him.

You do not shift every few minutes like he does. You’re very still, hands gripping a woven basket filled with gifts for the children and only every now and then do you react to something.

A humble laugh here, an interjection of a ‘thank you’ there.

Your brother had informed him that you do this every week with a different charitable institution. Much to his dismay, he would have to accompany you to an infirmary next time. As though the city itself didn’t spout enough risk of infection.

It is so foolish, to have you, of all people, visit all these poor souls, give them your feigned smile and a present which leaves not even the tiniest of scratches in the wealth of your father’s house.

Pretentious is what it is. You’re nothing more than a third-born woman, you hold no importance to the politics of the land.

The nun finishes her ode to you and you bow your head graciously. “Thank you, Sister,” you say.

The old hag blushes, like a little girl and Benji simply cannot help the little scoff that escapes him.

Your head shoots around, eyes widened as though you had forgotten about his presence at all, but you compose yourself quickly.

“Ser Benjicot, would you help me hand out the baskets please?” You ask, voice dulcet and melodic. You had chosen a different path than him, after your near catastrophic first meeting.

You have settled on greeting him with exaggerated sweetness.

A farce, he knows it. It is just a question of time before you would tire of it and go crying to your brother that you want a different knight.

He nods at you and the children are quick to line up, each of them eager, with glowing eyes.

You kneel down before them, dress skirts puffing up around you and begin to give them their gifts. There are toys and clothes for the winter time and little cakes and he wonders how in god’s name this is to be of use for longer than a blip in time. They’d outgrow the clothes and they’d fight over the toys the moment you would leave.

It is money which they need, money that currently adorns you in gold and fine silks.

Most of the younglings do not speak to you directly, too shy or too worried about what to say but some grin at you in that untamed way that only children do.

You ask them if they would like a hug or not and they all say yes.

Benji keeps giving the next basket to you, slowly emptying all the trunks that had travelled with you on your carriage. He is about to hand you the second to last one when he finds a little girl perched in your lap.

A redheaded small thing, fragile with scuffs and specks of dirt all over her. Her hair is matted.

“She just arrived this week,” Sister Linda tells him, despite him not having asked. “She’s refusing to take baths.”

He looks at the nun and then back at you.

Surely, you must also notice that stench radiating off the girl, even the other kids have taken a step back, but you do not react.

“My mumsy said yer’ a baker of hope,” the little one mumbles, grimy fingers clutching at the pendant which dangles from your neck. It is amethyst, a dark one, set in precious gold.

You laugh, soft and careful and pat her back. “I believe she said beacon, sweetling. I am not much of a talented baker.”

The girl shrugs. “Your necklace is nice.”

You hum.

When your carriage had entered the heart of the city, you had scrunched your nose in disdain, Benjicot had seen it. It is somewhat paradoxical to this interaction.

You lean even closer, dip your mouth down to the girl’s ear and whisper something. Her mouth drops into a big ‘O’ and she nods before slipping off of you.

You twist your upper half towards him, opening your arms to receive the last basket.

The little girl takes it into her hand and then you do something entirely unbecoming and wink at her. She giggles and with that you get up, knees clicking.

When you grab Benji's arm for support, he almost rips it away before coming to his senses.

But you notice his little twitch and raise an eyebrow at him, hand returning to your side.

“I believe we have done all for today, Sister Linda,” you say. “We shall see each other in about two moons, if god allows.”

The sitter curtsies. “We owe you and the king our deepest gratitude. It is always a delight to have you visit, your grace.”

Benjicot rolls his eyes at this and then, reluctant as ever, offers his arm to help you down the stairs.

You ignore it, surprisingly, dress bunched in your hands, and hurry down the hallway, him hot on your heels.

He catches up within two steps, with no layer of tulle holding him back and practical leather boots in lieu of your ornate heels that click along the cobbled grounds beneath you rapidly.

“Are we in a haste?” He asks and you stop only when you’ve reached the door.

“Ah, so he speaks,” you say, with none of the kindness you had just displayed a few moments ago.

You’re right. Holding his tongue is likely more effective in his ploy to gain freedom back.

He huffs and opens the door, you are halfway through it before you turn right back around and this time he can barely bother to rush after you.

Your hands fiddle with something at the back of your neck and then from where he stands he realises that you’ve taken the necklace off and suddenly the little girl appears from the top of the stairs, where all the other children had disappeared from already.

You hand it to her, crouched down to her level once more.

Now he regrets not having gone after you, too far to hear what you tell her.

And just as abruptly as your manoeuvre had begun, it is over again.

“Let us go back now, I am quite famished,” you tell him, not a single look spared in his direction, as you pass by.

Still, he thinks your cheeks are flushed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It is quite laborious to not speak.

Especially for a man like Benjicot Blackwood, who is so often quicker with his tongue than his better judgement, who so loved to brag and yell and debate and laugh loudly.

Silence does not suit him.

The only person he has spoken with at court so far, is your brother, if only to request that he isn’t made the full armour of knighthood, a wish that he was granted.

He is almost entirely certain that it is his reputation which allowed him this luxury.

You had addressed the wardrobe change and told him that you were glad that he wasn’t forced into all the steel, the way Ser Rickon before him had been.

Benjicot had only grunted in return.

That is all he allowed himself towards you: grunt, scoff, huff, sigh. Perhaps roll his eyes, or make some other dismissive gesture.

You have yet to abandon your stubborn idea of being patient with him. You don’t chastise his behaviour and you can’t have complained to anyone because in turn nobody has told him to get it together.

As it is now, nobody speaks to him, most courtiers preferring to whisper.

Bloody Ben, they all still hiss behind his back, even though he does not at all feel like him anymore.

Bloody Ben is in the Riverland, in the rise and fall of its hills, buried in its luscious high grasses.

Here he is Ser Benjicot, a trapped up bird.

But he does grow hopeful each day, with every little crack in your angelic facade, with the thinning of your web of false amiability.

When he’d walked with you to the stables this afternoon, you had pushed him to the side to enter first.

Very subtly, maybe not even noticeable to any passerby, but he had felt your well-kept nails in the soft leather guarding his forearms.

And then after, as you had mounted your horse, you had barely waited for him to join you before galloping on out toward the private part of the beach.

Fury, your horse is called, which he thought so ridiculous that he had laughed upon hearing it, but seeing it now, he understood why.

It is bloody enormous. A black Friesian, the kind that is usually bred to the north of the kingdom. And just barely tamed, vehemently refusing to let Benjicot near it.

You’re leaned forward on her now, arms wrapped around her neck, your eyes trained on the sea.

The weather is rough today, strong winds tearing at your hair and coat.

Laughable, he thinks again. Your attire is made to resemble that of the cavalry, deep purple overcoat and a brooch resembling a horse attached to it, right on your chest.

But you are the princess, so of fucking course, your overcoat is embroidered with a golden sun. Of fucking course it is neat and clean. It’s a costume.

Everything you put on is a costume, down to the faces you make.

He’d say he hates you, but then again he has actually hated people in his life before and he doesn’t care that much for you.

“Quit that, will you?” you say, voice raised enough for him to hear you over the roar of the ocean. You look at him, brows pulled into a frown.

He tilts his head, redirects his horse to parallel yours, rather than face it. “What do you mean, your grace?”

You sigh. “Do not act stupid, Ser Benjicot. You look as though you may push me off my horse at any moment.”

He snorts. “I do not.”

“You do. It’s tiresome. I cannot make this feat easier for you, but why do you insist so on making it harder for me?”

This time he doesn’t snort. “Harder for you? Just because I refuse to be your friend, does not mean I am making it harder for you. It isn’t common to be so close with one’s knight. Just because you let Ser Rodrick do all sorts of things with and to you.”

You do not miss the implication of this. “It is treason, what you hint at. It is treason that you should think so lowly of one of the most honourable men in the realm. It is treason to speak of my maidenhood in such a lewd manner.”

Benjicot directs his gaze into the skies. They are grey, waiting to erupt. “I did not say it, did I?”

You huff. “Toad.”

His laugh startles you, he sees you flinch in the corner of his eye. “Too well behaved to even curse properly,” he mutters. “Do you have no emotion left, princess? Was your outburst in the garden the peak of it?”

You do not answer yourself at first, the crashing of waves, the sea gulls, they seem to do so for you. Benjicot wonders if this would be your last straw now.

He decides to push further.

“You are pampered and spoiled. You think you can give away necklaces and make up for it that way. You think that if you’re patient enough, I’ll come to like you as everyone does, but I’ll tell you now, I never will. I am not like the courtiers, blinded by the colours of your clothes and the shine of your royal hair. I do not care for your title or your wealth or your looks.”

He makes a point of staring at her then, surprisingly to find her expressionless and already looking at him. “You are nothing but shackles to me.”

Again you don’t speak. You hold his eyes and for a moment he thinks you would be the one to push someone off their horse

“Get down,” you say.

Benjicot’s smile grows. He’s been told that he smiles like a shark and he hopes you share this sentiment.

“Get down, Blackwood.”

He obliges. He’s done it, he’s hurt you enough. He is triumphant. He is already planning to find the next tavern.

Then you slide off your own horse.

“You have no idea of shackles, you imbecile.” Your voice is laced with venom, angry and acidic. “You are here because nobody wants to tolerate you. You are here because you are a child, a child with an affinity to violence. You are here because with you remaining in the Riverlands, the Brackens would have never agreed to my father’s attempts to finally bring peace upon your houses.”

He towers over you, but you do not appear to mind as you step closer and closer still, so close that he can smell your saccharine perfume emanating from everywhere and engulfing him like a cloud of roses.

“You think it is good that you are feared, but it is the opposite. Good people are good. Good people do not have others crossing the room to be removed from them. You are nothing short of a small babe throwing a temper tantrum. You should consider yourself lucky that somehow you managed to make your contribution to end this foolish bloodshed between the Brackens and the Blackwoods, even though you worked so hard to keep it alive. Perhaps God will be gracious when you go to meet him then, knowing this. I cannot rid myself of you, without having you killed, you are essential to this plan, so unless you wish to meet our Lord himself sooner than planned you must either learn to be civil or learn to be silent.”

You exhale deeply.

“I do not wish to order your execution, I have never had to do such a thing before in my life and it should be a pity that I were to soil my hands on your youthful blood,” you end.

Benji can see the way your chest heaves, the little specks of red that decorate your cheeks. You are nervous but still you don’t waver.

The two of you stand in your positions, you with your arms crossed in front of you and him with his hands by his side.

Useless hands, he realises now. All is useless, no part of him has any power in this play.

He clears his throat and steps back, unsure what else he should do, for what is likely the first time in his life.

You nod, lips pressed together. “Silence it is then,” you say and he can’t help but wonder whether he imagines the tinge of disappointment in your voice.

It is very benevolent of you to not further comment on his indecencies, more benevolent than you should be but you are aware that he wasn’t raised in this pit of snakes. He doesn’t know of the conniving vipers that surround you and he is not learned in making up plans.

The urge to scream gnaws at Benjicot, at the dawning of how final his place by your side is.

There is no way out.

The king and his uncle promised the Brackens that he is no longer a threat to them. He is the debt that was owed and this is his price to pay.

And so is his gratitude for being a wonder boy, for having wielded swords and bloodied himself so early and so well.

“Ser Benjicot?”

He looks at you, upon your horse once more. It is becoming a thing of frequency for one of you to have to look up at the other.

He nods and so the two of you make your way back to the castle.

It is different this time.

He had dreaded it, a few days ago, when the city had come into sight on the horizon, but back then he had thought that he would weasel his way out.

This time, as you approach the castle, he feels himself suffocate.

Garden strolls, orphanages, banquets, infirmaries, this small beach.

You have no idea of shackles.

You trail ahead of him, high up on Fury, no tiara but hair wreathed around your hair in such a way that it is hard to mistake you for anything other than what you are, even sparing your very obvious clothes.

House Aprikate has historically brought forth women of the utmost charm, soft skinned and smiles that ballads are written about and many say it is their princesses that are the backbone of it all. Kind and warm. The mothers of the realm.

Your dynasty is one of greatness, for a century now your house has ruled the kingdom but it is withering now.

The smallfolk grows unhappy, uneasy beneath the sloppy sovereignty of your father.

He is shackled to you and you are shackled to your house and to this place.

And worse so, he has been free before. You have not.

He swallows his ache, as best as he can, still it tastes bitter on his tongue and by the time you reach the stables, he wonders if execution is still better than this appalling place is.

Maybe your father would marry you off to somebody far enough away from this place. A Bracken, for example.

God. Maybe your future husband would dismiss your knight and replace him with a man of his own. Yes that might be his out.

You’re an Aprikate woman, you would marry soon, he is sure of it.

The sun begins to set and paints the skies in shades of magenta and orange when you walk to your chambers.

“I shall take my supper alone tonight, should my brother come by to ask,” you tell Benjicot. “And I do believe it would be best if you do not mention our initial disliking for one another to anyone. The people here do so love to be blabbermouths.”

He nods and gallantly opens the wooden doors to your chambers.

“Goodnight Ser Benjicot,” you say and rush inside.

He glances along the hallway but it is empty, much like your room. He sticks his head in the tiniest bit. “I believe Benji shall suffice, your grace. Ser Benjicot is such a mouthful,” he says, quick and before he can change his mind again, almost stumbling over his own words as he does.

You smile. A good one, a real one this time.

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@knight-of-flowerss

@rebeccawinters

@jhepolie

@majoso12

[nahoney22]

Hello! I absolutely love love LOVE your work. I be rereading on here and on Ao3 and your writing is just phenomenal!! I wanted to know if I can please request an NSFW fem reader x Hunter.

Reader is mad or annoyed with “The Great Sergeant of clone force 99” always on top of her ever since she joined the batch like how she almost got injured but it was only Hunter’s overprotectiveness that might have been the problem and at some point they get in to a really heated argument on the Marauder where she wants to leave the batch and Hunter will be glad because he doesn’t have to look after someone…. until something snaps between them and all hell breaks loose. Even hidden feelings are let loose lol. Also, there’s this song that I picture it with for some reason. It’s “when you coming to see me?” by Mawr if you wanna take listen :).

Anyways, again I love your work and ive never requested something to anyone before so idk if the request is well written and/or too long😅 but i know you can execute it so well if you decide on accepting my request. Thank you!!!! ♥️♥️♥️

Later’s Better Than Never*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Hunter x Female!Reader

word count: 3.6k

prompts: none

When tensions finally reaching breaking point, your need to leave becomes evident. Hunter however makes it harder than it should be.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Female reader, explicit sexual content and language, dirty talk, light dom!Hunter, very light breathplay ie choking, fingering, finger sucking, cum eating, oral ie blowjob, p in v sex, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, love confessions, Hunter is overprotective, light angst, arguing, not proofread.

authors note: Sorry for the wait my lovely @lamiliani, enjoy, I hope this is okay! 🩵

Hunter had been unbearable since the mission briefing.

The plan was straightforward: infiltrate a high-stakes gala, seduce the host, and extract crucial information about a new Imperial weapon. The client you were working for had specifically chosen you for this task after witnessing your charisma and capability. The rest of the squad respected and trusted you, but a certain Sergeant seemed determined to undermine your confidence at every turn.

"Remember, stick to the plan," Hunter ordered for what felt like the hundredth time as you adjusted your attire in the Marauder. The sleek dress you wore was perfect for the gala, accentuating your figure in a way that was both elegant and seductive. Which was a total change considering your normal attire of battered and worn armour and civvies that were desperate for a good wash.

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. "I know the plan, Hunter," you retorted, turning to face him. The frustration in your voice was evident.

Hunter's eyes bore into yours, a mix of concern and frustration etched into his features. His jaw was set, the muscles in his neck tense. "One slip-up, and it could all go wrong. We can’t afford that."

You narrowed your eyes, knowing he was referring to the time when the plan had not gone exactly as intended. It had been a life-or-death situation, but you had learned from it. Besides, the only person you had put in danger was yourself, so you didn’t understand why he was still bitter about it.

"That 'slip-up' was months ago," you shot back, your temper flaring. "I’ve proven myself since then."

"I’ll believe it when I see it." Hunter’s tone was cold as he stormed off into the cockpit, leaving you staring daggers at his back. How insufferable could one man be?

You took a deep breath, trying not to let it get to you. You mentally and physically prepared yourself, going over the plan in your head with determination. You had this.

It was just a shame someone else didn’t think so.

The gala was in full swing. You slipped into the crowd as planned, your eyes on the target. You were enticing and seductive as you engaged him in conversation, your charm drawing him in instantly. Everything was going according to plan as he began to let slip his plans.

Then Hunter appeared.

His sudden arrival, a shadow in the background, disrupted your focus. The target noticed your concerned distraction, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Before you could salvage the situation, a gentle hand on his arm to draw his attention back to you, his arm wrapped around your neck into a chokehold as alarms started to blare, and chaos erupted.

Cursing under your breath, you freed yourself with ease and struck a punch straight to his gut before ducking to cover as blaster fire whizzed past your head. Everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time. You barely managed to escape with the others, the mission a total failure. And this time, you refused to let it be seen as your fault.

Back on the Marauder, you let everything out. You marched up the gangplank, ripping the bangles off your wrists and the pins that had secured your hair in place, tossing them across the ship carelessly. You let everyone file in, steam practically blowing out of your ears as your eyes landed on the Sergeant.

"What is your problem? Why can’t you trust me?" you yelled as soon as the ramp closed behind you, your voice echoing through the ship. Your chest heaved with the effort of keeping your anger in check, your hands trembling slightly.

"You weren’t getting the job done!" Hunter growled, his tone dripping with frustration. His eyes were dark, his brows furrowed in anger. "You just stood there twirling your drink around all night."

You stared at him in disbelief, looking to the others who avoided eye contact at all costs. "I wasn’t doing anything? Hunter, he was about to tell me his plans, and then you just swooped in like you have some damn savior complex."

His jaw tightened, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. "Maybe if you weren’t so reckless in the past, I could have let you get on with it."

"The client wanted me to do it. I wasn’t being reckless!" You seethed, turning red in the face. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. "One mistake, Hunter! Just one!" You stepped closer, your voice low and dangerous. "How many times do I have to prove myself?"

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, his fists just as tightly clenched as his jaw. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. "You don’t get it, do you? One mistake is all it takes to get you killed."

His words cut deep, a mixture of anger and hurt swirling within you. Your heart pounded, each beat echoing your frustration and the feeling of being made to feel useless. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, a mix of rage and something more primal simmering just beneath the surface.

"Guys, stop it!" Omega’s voice trembled, her distress clear. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with unshed tears.

Echo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let’s give them some space," he said softly, leading her towards the exit with Tech and Wrecker following. "They need to sort this out." He looked at both of you with a stern gaze before he left.

As the door closed, sealing you in the Marauder alone with Hunter, silence fell.

Finally, you both started to speak at once, voices overlapping. Hunter gestured for you to go ahead, his expression begrudging.

"I’m tired of this, Hunter," you began, your voice steady despite the storm inside you that was waiting to tear this ship apart. "Tired of you treating me like I’m not good enough. If this is how it’s going to be, maybe I should leave."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, anger, maybe something more—but he masked it quickly. "Maybe you should go," he said, his voice rough. His expression was a mixture of frustration and something else, something softer. "I am done having to watch over you, babysitting you."

You scoffed at him, shaking your head in disbelief. "Has it ever come to your attention that maybe you’re the problem?" You pointed at his chest, your finger almost digging into the fabric of his shirt. "You’re weighing this whole team down recently, and I want to know why."

"There’s nothing wrong with my leadership," he snapped back, his voice sharp. But as he spoke, the space between you seemed to shrink. You were close, so close. His breath was hot on your skin. "You just don’t know how to be careful."

Your heart raced, the anger giving way to a heated flush spreading through your body. The proximity was intoxicating, his scent, his presence overwhelming your senses. You could feel the tension morphing into something you never thought you’d feel.

His breath was on your skin, his presence overwhelming. "Say the word, Hunter," you challenged, voice low into a whisper. "And I’ll go."

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His pupils were blown the more you looked at each other, breathing shallow. You watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, struggling to find his voice.

Your hands rested on the underside of the console, securing you in place as you were practically backed up into it. And confusingly, you were a different type of riled up.

Then, you saw him wet his lower lip, just a touch that made your heart momentarily stop. And he noticed—he noticed. And he smirked. Of course he would; his heightened senses would be picking up on everything—the quickening of your pulse, the heat pooling between your thighs. You sincerely hoped he didn’t notice.

"Hunter," you spoke louder and hopefully more sternly, but the slight tremble in your tone begged to differ. "Tell me you want me to go."

His eyes momentarily closed, conflict spreading across his features. "Tell me to go," you whispered again, but again came no reply.

You waited for a few more moments before you found yourself laughing, almost pitifully. For yourself, and for him. "I don’t have time for this," you grumbled and turned to move away from him, but there was a sudden hold on your arm, stopping you completely.

Your gaze snapped back to him, eyes wide. His, however, flickered down your body, lingering, then met yours again, blazing with an intensity that made your heart stop once more. The silence stretched, electric, until you could bear it no longer. "Hunter?" you whispered.

Suddenly, he pulled you closer, body flush against his and his lips just inches from yours. With a soft murmur, voice hoarse, he said, "Don’t go."

Your breath hitched, your body responding to the unspoken desire in his words. The bitterness, the anger, it all melted away, leaving only a new and raw need. You both closed the gap, lips crashing together in a fierce, desperate kiss.

His hands roamed your body, finding their way to the small of your back while your hands tangled in his hair, running and tugging the textured locks through your fingers. You gasped as he pulled you even closer than before, his body pressing you back to the control panel. The heat of his touch pushed shivers of excitement down your spine. How was this happening? And why didn’t it feel wrong?

Hunter pulled back just enough to mutter against your lips, “I’ve always cared. More than I should.”

You met his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there, and whispered, “Then show me.”

His response was immediate and fervent. Hunter lifted you effortlessly, placing you onto the console before his strong hands slipped under your dress, his touch rough and impatient, yet undeniably thrilling. His fingers traced the length of your legs, caressing your thighs and emitting electric jolts of desire through you.

"You were so worked up when we were arguing," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "I could smell how wet you were for me."

You were speechless. Then, you gasped as his fingers trailed further up, hiking your dress higher until his hands cupped your sex. The realisation that you were bare beneath the dress, no panties to obstruct his touch made him breathless.

"Fuck," he breathed shakily, his fingers slipping between your folds, feeling the slickness there. "No panties? That’s… that’s so sexy of you." He purrs, gauging your reaction as he brushes a thumb over your clit. “And you’re so wet.”

Your breath hitched, a moan escaping your lips as he began to explore you. His fingers moved expertly, teasing your entrance before slipping inside. You arched into him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. “H-Hunter!”

"Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "To be fucked by me?"

You could only nod, biting your lip hard as your voice lost to the sensations overwhelming you. His fingers thrust in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit with an agonisingly beautiful precision. “Mmm, you like this don’t you? You feel beautiful.” The pleasure builds quickly, a coil of heat tightening in your core.

“I love it, Hunter.” You gasp. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Hunter’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he worked you towards the edge. "So tight around my fingers."

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more as your body shakes. His pace quickened, his fingers curling inside you to hit that perfect spot that made you see stars. Your body trembled, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"That’s it," he growled, his voice a rough caress as his lips breathe down your neck. "Come for me. I know you can do it. Come all over my fingers, baby girl.”

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered. His fingers, the pace, his pet names, everything makes your climax crash over you in throbbing waves. Hunter didn’t stop though; his fingers continued their relentless thrash on your clit, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess, your juices pouring down your thighs.

When he finally pulled his fingers from you, they were slick with your cum. His gaze locked with yours, dazed and in awe as you watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a greedy hunger. The sight of him, the feel of his lips around his fingers, sent another jolt of arousal through you. “You l-look good doing that,” you say bashfully, even more so as he collected more on the fingers he just sucked and placed them flat against his tongue, groaning desperately.

"You taste incredible," he murmured, his eyes dark and hungry. "I never thought someone could taste so sweet."

Without another word, he sank to his knees before you, spreading your legs wider to grant him better access as he pushed your dress up again. The sight of him there, between your thighs, was definitely a sight to behold.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the console. His breath was hot against your swollen folds, making you shudder in eagerness. "I want to taste you again," he smirks, his tone low and gravelly. "I want you to come on my tongue."

“Take me, Hunter, it’s all yours.” The first swipe of his tongue was both a shock and a relief. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the locks to hold him in place.

"Hunter," you moaned, your voice trembling. "Oh, fuck."

His tongue moved with a desperate hunger, lapping at your folds and circling your clit with a precision that made you writhe. He groaned against you, the vibrations adding to the intense pleasure building inside you. “I love hearing you swear… such a dirty mouth.”

Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of that intense sensation. Hunter’s grip on your hips tightened, almost bruising as holds you steady as literally he devoured you. He alternated between long, slow licks and rapid, flicking movements that had you teetering on the edge of another orgasm. The sounds he made—groans, grunts, and the slick noises of his mouth on your wetness—only heightened the moment as you matched his sounds with tender moans of your own.

You tugged at his hair, needing him closer, deeper. "Don’t stop," you pleaded, your voice breathless and desperate as you begin to roll your hips against his face. "Please, don’t stop."

He didn’t. If anything, your words spurred him on, his tongue working even more fervently. He sucked on your clit, gently at first, then harder, drawing it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it before plunging his finger into you for that extra push. Your entire body tensed, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

You cried out, your nails digging into his scalp as you came again, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you shaking, more so than before.

Slowly, he pulled back from your cunt, his lips glistening with your aftermath. He looked up at you, his eyes blown and satisfied. "Stars, I can’t get enough of you… I’ve dreamt about being between your legs.”

His words surprised you, wondering if he was just saying it in the heat of the moment or if he was saying the truth but for now, you could only nod, still trying to catch your breath. Your body hummed with satisfaction, every nerve ending still tingling from the intensity of your release. Hunter stood, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips.

"You’re amazing," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was slow, languid, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, sharing your taste between you. You sighed into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice a soft rumble.

“But… I thought you didn’t want me.” You whisper against his lips, eyes closed as you try to get your head around everything.

He sighs, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve been pushing you away because… I couldn’t imagine if anything bad were to happen to you.”

“You’ve been cruel to me,” you reiterate, a little bitter as you pull your head back, “but you…” you piece it all together, his obvious jealousy of you and that guy tonight, his toughness of overprotectiveness. He cared. In a bad way. But alas, he cared. And a part of you always wanted him. You were just too determined never to admit it.

“I’m sorry,” he says with honesty, his hands leaving your hips to take a hold of each of your hands, “I really am.”

You search his face, coming to your conclusion. Hunter's eyes blazed with need as you gently pushed him back. At first he thought you were going to push him away completely, telling him this was a mistake but then, you dropped to your knees before him.

Hunter's eyes widened in surprise but then glowed with hunger while your hands were steady, moving to his belt, undoing it. With your voice husky with desire, you whisper. "Let me?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. You freed his hardened cock from the confines of his pants, the sight of it making your mouth water instantly. “You have such a beautiful cock,” you say sweetly, giving it an experimental pump. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip, tasting the precum that had already gathered there from earlier antics.

Hunter groaned, his hands finding their way into your hair, gently guiding you. "Fuck, you’re beautiful," he muttered, his voice thick with need.

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper. His grip on your hair tightened, and you could feel the tension in his body, the restraint he was barely managing to hold onto. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in deeper, your tongue tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back, exposing his throat. You glanced up, taking in the sight of him—the way his lips parted, the way his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. It spurred you on. It made you want to give him everything.

You started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length, taking him as deep as you could. Each time you pulled back, you flicked your tongue over the sensitive tip, making him shudder. You could feel his control slipping, his hips starting to thrust gently into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his voice ragged. “You’re so good at this.” His free hand grasps your jaw, holding your head in place as his gentle thrusts become more eager. “That’s it baby.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you doubled your efforts, sucking him harder, faster and matching his thrusts. You reached up, cupping his balls and rolling them gently in your hand, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew more ragged, his grip on your hair tighter. Soon his hand on your jaw moved to your throat, chuckling as he practically felt the way your throat contracts and tightens with every time he moves in and out of your mouth.

“Stars, you’re amazing,” he panted. “Keep going, keep going.”

But then he pulled you back, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. He was breathing hard, his eyes wild with need. “I can’t… I need you,” he growled, pulling you up to your feet.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was lifting you, your back pressed against the console again but with your dress being ripped away from your body. He spread your thighs, and then he was there, his cock pressing against your entrance.

He slid into you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sensation of him filling you completely made you cry out, your breathing harsh. “Hunter,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hips starting a relentless rhythm. “Such a nice pussy, so perfect.”

He moved with a desperation that matched your own, each thrust deep and hard, hitting that perfect spot inside you. You start to grin, never having been so fucked desperately in all your life. He was disheveled, panting your name like a man starved as his cock sinks deep into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more. A lot more. “You’re fucking me so good, Hunter! D-don’t stop.”

“You’re mine,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

His sudden words sent you over the edge, your body tensing as another orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your nails dragging down his back, leaving marks and claiming him.

“Yes, come for me,” he urged, his thrusts growing more erratic. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

You did, your body spasming around him, milking him. His grip on your hips tightened, his own release imminent. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m going to fill you up,” he panted. With a final, deep thrust, he came, his body shuddering against yours. You held him close, your own body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, his breath slowly evening out.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer now, more tender.

You smiled, your hands gently caressing his back as you both succumbed to the evening. “I love you too.”

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari i @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 1 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka a @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— right people, wrong place

SUMMARY : part two of and their name was treason. confrontations and unexpected turn of events. the truth and the consequences. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst?, dirty talk/dirty thoughts, slight gunplay, cock bondage (i was scared), slight knife play, edging, sub!dean my beloved, degradation, cliffhangers (my saviour)

WORD COUNT : 3.3k

A/N : title from RM’s song💕. this fills the cock bondage square on my @jacklesversebingo card. I couldn’t stop thinking about James Bond getting his balls smacked xx

DEAN’S POV

He wasn’t going to lie, he felt betrayed. 

He also felt embarrassed. And ashamed. 

He could feel Sam’s gaze on him every once in a while.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, attempting to ignore the pity on Sam’s face. 

The tension that filled the car couldn’t even be soothed by music. He knew that the tension was originating from himself. It wasn’t entirely Sam’s inability to comfort him, or whatever Sam was trying to tell him by not actually saying anything.

He sort of wished Sam would just say anything, so that it could be over and done with. Even if it was just to tell him he was dumb and that they should’ve just left…

Whatever. 

How could he be so stupid?

He could still feel her. 

Her lips on his neck, his chest, and around his cock. He could feel her hands in his hair, nails scratching desperately down his back, the clench of her wet heat around him. Her warm skin against his, soft and smooth. 

He remembered every detail because she asked him to.

He remembered the taste of her painted lips. The taste of her sweet tongue. The taste of her flowery skin. The taste of her pussy. 

He could still hear her voice. The way she begged and cried. For everything. To stop, to never stop. The way she praised him for the way he pleasured her.

“Remember me.” 

How could he forget her? 

Especially now.

Sam broke the awkward silence with a clear of his throat before announcing: “Okay, Charlie’s got her exact location.” Dean grunted softly for Sam to continue, but inside he was grateful for Charlie’s quick, hard-work at tracking her down. “She’s staying in the Spire Hotel, it’s ten miles away from our current location.”

Even if he did see her again, he had no idea what he would say to her. Any type of conversation would be humiliating for him.

READER’S POV

When she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a white towel as her hair dripped with excess water, the last thing she expected was to be pushed into a wall so the front of her body faced the white, boring paint. A gun cocked audibly, the song of the chamber and bullets moving made her tense once the metal prodded at her ribs.

“I bet you didn’t think you’d see me again,” a familiar voice growled in her ear. She squirmed, turned as much as she could beneath the strong force of the man, to catch a glimpse of those beautiful green eyes and adorably dainty freckles. 

“You couldn’t have waited until after I’ve changed?” She whispered, only half nervous about pissing him off so much he actually went after her instead of cutting his losses. 

Dean chuckled bitterly and the gun moved away just for him to grab at her wrists in his painful grasp. With a thin rope, he tied her hands together behind her back, still pressing her against the wall with his hips. She squirmed again, but she was more aroused than afraid at the way he was handling her. 

“Stop moving,” he grunted and finally removed himself from her to yank her away from the wall. 

“Why?” She smirked, fluttering her lashes up at him as she allowed the towel to slip from her body. His eyes instantly dropped down to her breasts and sneaked lower, but it was quicker than she’d liked. He pushed her until she fell into the couch, leaning slightly on her side. “Thanks,” she muttered sarcastically, shifting to sit up straight and feel for the knot he made on the rope. 

Instead, she looked over to where the case had once been. It was missing, but she didn’t care much for it. She just had to make it out alive. She’d heard plenty of stories about Sam and Dean Winchester from Bela, she just didn’t know if they were exaggerated because Bela hated them so much. 

“Sam’s long gone with the case.” She looked over at Dean—who took a seat a foot away from her on the same couch—and rolled her eyes at him. He looked tired and messy still—from the sex. 

She eyed him curiously and he did the same. She could see the hickey on his pulse darkening, found the stain of her lipstick on the collar of his dress shirt, the missing buttons at the bottom when she became too impatient with them. His hair was a mess, but not the same mess from the way she pulled and tugged on it, it was now messy from his frustration. 

“You’re not as good as you think,” he broke the silence. 

“At sex?” She pretended to be serious and pouted a little. 

He faked a laugh. “Your plan is a mess, I didn’t expect to find you so quickly… I’m disappointed.” 

She scoffed and looked away from him, irritated and slightly embarrassed. She angrily searched for the knot and began to tug at random until she felt it become loose. 

“If you got the case back, why are you here?” She asked, dreading the possibility that maybe Bela was right about them being a step away from being serial killers. Dean leaned closer to her, a half-terrifying smirk on his plush lips.

“For revenge,” he whispered against her ear. Her skin prickled as his warm breath blew over her wet skin and on half-dry droplets, and her nipples tightened despite the anxiety that seized her body. 

His gun flashed against the lamplight and she chewed on her lip when she felt him tilt her head with the barrel of it against her jaw. Her stomach felt knotty and sick as the gun slid down her neck to her heart.

It was as if he were trying to imagine which way would be better. Her heart thudded with fear and she began to fumble with the knot she’d almost certainly started to loosen. He dragged the gun over her breast, across her nipple. Her skin tingled and she bit her lip, unfortunately aroused as his eyes followed the path of his steel gun. It moved lower and she watched the steel move down, as it became warm against her skin, rather than the enthralled eyes that were already steps ahead of her. 

He used the gun to part her thighs and she forced herself to look away, incredulously studying his face. She felt the metal against her folds, teasing and cold and slippery. Dean hummed deep in his chest and shifted to get a better look. 

Her legs opened wider, she was ashamed of that, but the way he bit his lip and turned pink was fascinating. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to her entrance and slid it back up to massage her clit with the warm arousal she could feel ruining the couch. 

She didn’t mind getting fucked by him in whatever way he wanted. What she minded was dying by his hand. She felt the rope slip from her wrist and she forced herself to focus on how to escape him and survive. 

His lips found hers in a surprisingly slow kiss. She lifted a brow and stared at the lashes that rested against pink freckled cheeks. He continued to blindly play with her clit and she was embarrassed to admit that part of her wanted to cum on his gun, but he pulled away with an almost cold stare that made her come to her senses. 

She braced herself and slowly pulled one hand out of the loosened knot and headbutted him as hard as she could. The gun fell loosely between her thighs and she gasped, more afraid of the gun going off than focused on the pain that spread across her forehead as Dean cupped his bloody nose. 

She grabbed the gun and slipped away before he could start grabbing at her again. Dean remained shocked, but his jaw clenched in anger and she shook away the rope before he could use it to his advantage and pointed the gun at him, her finger on the trigger. 

“I’m so sorry, your face is so pretty I kinda feel bad, but… I'm not a fan of you having the upper hand.” He blinked up at her, confused, stunned. He got up and she instantly pistol whipped him so he fell regrettably  hard and cold against the couch. 

She grimaced and watched him with the gun pointed at him, but he appeared to be knocked out cold. She waited for a few seconds before being sure about his unconsciousness. 

“Am I naked?” Dean's groggy voice made her smirk. She heard the clink and jingle of the handcuffs she used to keep him bound to the bed frame and turned around to admire her work. He did the same and eyed the metal wrapped around his wrists and the bed, and down at the pale yellow cloths that tied his ankles to the bottom of the bed. 

“Yeah, it’s payback for threatening me when I just came out of the shower.” She made her way to him, now dressed in a satiny robe, and gazed down at him with a pleased smile. 

He glared up at her. “You used me.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“We both used eachother,” she reminded him, “to pleasure ourselves.”

“No, you used me to get the signatures.” 

She laughed jokingly, then became serious. Dean frowned and squirmed when she sat down beside him. “Sex with you was purely for pleasure. It had nothing to do with the signatures, I could’ve gotten them without sleeping with you, trust me.”

“My brother-”

“Isn’t coming any time soon because I convinced him that we were fucking our hate away.” Dean's face fell and she showed him the messages she sent to Sam of her kissing him while he was unconscious. It looked believable. 

Dean's head bounced back on the pillow as he huffed out a breath in defeat. She moved her attention to the objects she’d placed on the bedside table behind her. Knives clashed and gleamed in the moonlight when she tugged the long, slim rope from the table.

She turned to find Dean with a blush on his cheeks. She lifted a brow and leaned towards him, the red rope dangled and slid with her. Dean swallowed, quickly glanced at the rope, and attempted to look over her body to catch a glimpse of what else she had on the table. 

“Were you going to kill me?” She asked to steal his attention and began to slowly unwind the rope from the coil it was in. 

“No,” he muttered, eyeing her movements cautiously. “Are you going to kill me?” 

She snickered mockingly and straddled his thighs instead of answering him. She admired him beneath her, from his messy brown locks on his head, the plush of his pink lips, to the redness clawing its way down his freckled chest, the softness of his stomach, and his semi-hard cock. 

He really was so beautiful, irritatingly hot, especially tied up. The way he was tied up to the bed made his arms look stronger and damn if she didn’t realise now that she never found someone else as attractive as she found him. 

“What are you doing?” Dean squirmed, and tugged at the cuffs in an attempt to pull himself upwards. 

“Lookin’ at you.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. 

“What are you gonna do?” He rephrased his question. 

Instead of giving him an answer, she slithered up his body, and closely studied his face. She traced the faint lines on his forehead, the tiny scar in the middle and the furrow of his brows. The curve of his lashes, the wrinkles at the corner of his curious green eyes, the bags beneath. The almost hard to tell crookedness of his nose, the freckles dusted across his flushed cheeks, the direction of his stubble. The shape of his lips, the freckles that managed to make their way onto the pillowy flesh. 

She kissed him. 

Slowly, experimentally. 

She waited for his response, kept the kiss PG-13, and received a soft moan from him as approval of her approach. The kiss slowly unravelled into something hotter, passionate, and even aggressive. 

He may have been tied up but it didn’t stop him from using his teeth to try to get the upper hand. All it did was set the mood. She gave what he did. From soft nibbles to harsh stinging of teeth on the puffy, red flesh of their sensitive lips. 

She reached down between their bodies to grip his cock at the base and slowly ran her dry hand up and down. Dean grunted against her mouth and bit her lip roughly in retaliation. She chucked and released him to play with the wetness between her legs instead. She dipped three fingers through the dampness and rubbed her clit to draw more arousal from herself. 

“I hate you,” Dean panted against her lips. 

“You kiss everyone you hate like that?” 

Before Dean could even get a word in, her hand was wrapped around his cock again to drag the tip around her slick entrance. His moan was strained and his words died after evaporating in his mind. 

“I can’t stop thinking about how you fucked me,” she murmured aginst his lips, refusing to give into his pleading eyes.  “I can still feel you inside me. Still feel your lips and tongue on my clit. On my tits. God, you are such a filthy whore, Dean.” He whimpered and the frame of the bed squeaked when he tugged at the restraints. “You eat pussy like a starved man. Want me to ride your pretty face again? Or did you like it better when you forced me to keep my legs open for you-”

“Please,” Dean whined, nuzzling her nose with his to ask for a kiss that she refused to give him once again. 

“No,” she replied firmly. Unfortunately for him, she moved away from him and he lost the wet heat of her pussy. His cock twitched excitedly when she slowly undid the lazy knot of her robe. He stared at what little skin she revealed and watched her grab the slim red rope he’d forgotten about completely. 

“What’s that for?“ 

“Your pretty cock,” she finally answered. Her eyes were glued to his face to gather as much information about how he was feeling. He swallowed and silently watched her start to cave his hardened cock with the rope. He hissed and moaned and whimpered at her light touch, at the rub of the thick strand against his sensitive, throbbing skin. 

When she finished, she tugged experimentally at the rope so that it tightened around his dick and then released it after a few seconds. She repeated the same action a few times and proceeded to carefully massage the skin beneath the head of his cock. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathed out, his thighs became tense and his hips bucked upwards. He looked away from the way the rope was intricately wrapped around him and stared at her amused face with his teeth buried in his bottom lip. 

“You look pretty when you come,” she murmured, her eyes flickered up to his. He blushed harder and squirmed more than he already was. “Can’t say every man looks pretty when they come, but damn… you sure know how to put on a show.” She squeezed his cock so he felt the rope and then relaxed her grip to tease the slit of his cock and play with his precum. 

“Fuck. Please, can’t you-”

“No,” she interrupted him. He licked his lips and frowned. She moved her hand away and reached over to the counter where a set of knives were sitting inside a knife storage bag. “I want this to last.” He swallowed when she picked out a knife. She stared at her reflection and unfocused her eyes to watch Dean behind the knife she held. “I’m not gonna hurt you… unless you count how painfully hard you are as me hurting you.”

She used the blunt edge of the knife to slide down his neck, slowly she followed the dips in his body, and with her eyes followed the messy trail of freckles on his sweaty skin. When the cold blade came closer to his crotch, Dean’s body became tense. 

“Can you not-”

“Shut up,” she replied instantly, and turned the knife over to the flat side when she slid it up against the rope around his dick. She watched him chew on his lip, but his stomach twitching along with his body showed her the true pleasure he felt when she spread his precum over his cock with the flat surface of the cold knife in the most casual way. 

“Look at you, you’re so turned on,” she teased. Dean swallowed again and licked his lip. She tugged gently at the rope with the knife and released the rope again after a few seconds. Dean groaned softly and squirmed relentlessly, the restraints on his body being tugged caused the bed to creak. 

“I wanna cum, please,” he murmured.

“I know, baby.” Mercifully, she placed the knife down on the table and gave him no chance to relax before wrapping her lips around the sensitive head of his cock and sucked at the precum that watered her mouth almost instantly. 

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, hips bucking up into her warm mouth. She released the tip to kiss and lick down the shaft, teasingly tracing the throbbing veins with her tongue until he started begging again. 

“Just let me- why won’t you let me cum?” 

She laughed and watched the arousing amount of precum that seeped into the ropes and dribbled down the rest of his cock with her saliva. She tugged at the rope, smiling playfully at him. “God, I just really loved it when you begged me to let you cum inside me last night.” 

“Please,” he laughed breathlessly, closed his eyes, kept moving his hips off the bed despite the way she became instead against his thighs. 

“Where?” She asked with a smirk, he opened his eyes and turned a shade darker. “Tell me where you wanna cum and I’ll give it to you, Dean,” she promised, leaning forward as she spoke so she could kiss him hard once she finished. 

He moaned against her mouth, and opened his lips without hesitation, waiting for her tongue to explore him as thoroughly as she had before. But she only gave a tiny, playful lick against his tongue with her own and moved down his neck to suck and bite at the mark she left behind earlier. 

 “Dean,” she murmured expectantly and squeezed his cock gently in her hands. Dean grunted in surprise, the handcuffs clinked, and the bed squeaked beneath the impatient shift of his hips.

“I wanna fill you up again, sweetheart, I wanna watch my cum.. drip out of your pretty pussy so I can lick it clean, and then make you cum on my tongue. Let me feel you,” he pleaded shamelessly, unaware of the wave of arousal that made her drip down her thighs once he spoke.

“You’re so pretty when you beg and so fucking filthy,” she murmured against his parted lips and simply pulled at the rope so it fall apart around his painfully hard and sensitive cock. “Pussy-obsessed slut, are you always this desperate?” 

She slowly aligned his cock with her dripping entrance and watched him hold his breath momentarily. His body slowly turned to jelly and he waited in unabashed anticipation for his cock to be buried deep inside her warmth once more. When the tip pressed into her, he released a shaky breath of relief, moaned loudly, and swirled his hips to push himself deeper into her. 

“You drive me so fucking crazy,” he murmured and nibbled on her lip, “ever since that damned taxi ride, I knew you were trouble.” 

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[userlando]

can we get max Emilian brain rot? Teasing him with a little show, getting him worked up with lingerie, not letting him touch you uGH

trying to combat my weird writers block aaaahh I hope you enjoy this 🤍

pleasant surprise (1.2k) max verstappen/fem!reader nsfw blurb

You can hear him in the kitchen, pouring himself a sugary drink and humming loudly to a song he’s had stuck in his head for the majority of the day. It makes you smile as you stand in the bathroom, staring yourself down with critical eyes because you want it to be perfect. A good surprise. Something Max will look back on when he’s gone for the week and has no one else but his hand and his vivid imagination.

It’s black, thin and strappy. The lace is so intricate and pretty that you can’t help but run an appreciative hand over the material, admiring the way the cups are holding your tits and enhancing them perfectly. It was hard to find good lingerie that did wonders for your body nowadays, and you usually went for the boring old cotton because comfort was always your first priority in that regard. But you’d gone shopping with Kika in Spain a few weeks ago and had come across this gorgeous set in the display window. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, ignoring your friend’s teasing smile when you purchased the lingerie.

“Babe?” Max’s voice drifted down the hall, footsteps getting closer and you quickly turned around with wide eyes.

“In here,” you strategically placed yourself behind the door so he wouldn’t spot you as he walked by. “I’ll be right out.”

Your boyfriend made a sound of acknowledgement and you figured his attention had been pulled by his phone, because he didn’t say or do anything else as he continued walking toward the bedroom. You took one last glance at yourself, wiping at your glossy mouth until the feeling of the sticky substance irked you; Prompting you to switch the light off in the bathroom before you started going at your face with a wet wipe.

You’d spent too long on your makeup. Granted, Max was going to probably ruin it in five minutes but you wanted to look pretty for at least a few minutes.

The man in question was standing with his back to the door when you entered, completely oblivious to your presence as he tapped away at his phone. His head twitched to the side when he heard you clear your throat gently, but he still didn’t pull his eyes away from his phone screen.

“Daniel just sent me this funny— Whoa.” He’d managed to turn around in his little ramble, light eyes going unnaturally wide as he caught sight of you standing in front of him. He swept his gaze from your toes to the top of your head, mouth opening and closing like he wasn’t sure what words to utter.

His reaction alone made you preen a little, biting down on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay as you took a step closer to him. Max’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes lingering on your midriff before you locked eyes.

“You look—“ he trailed off, clearly at a loss for words.

But what his mouth didn’t say, his body clearly made up for. His reaction spoke a thousand words and managed to boost your confidence as you turned around slowly, showing off your pert bottom hugged by the lacy thong. Max made a small noise in his throat, setting his phone down without tearing his eyes away from you before he quickly closed the distance between the two of you.

What he wasn’t expecting was for you to take two steps back, tutting loudly enough for him to halt his pace and frown at you in deep confusion. He looked dumbfounded, having been so prepared to put his hands on you and watching you melt like putty.

But your stance was different, rigid back and eyebrows raised on your forehead in a teasing display that made Max’s palms itch with the urgent need to touch you.

“You can’t do that.” He said quietly, confused by your lips breaking out into a wide smile.

He looked a little lost as he reached out his hand to place on your waist, making a sound of protest when you spun out of his reach. His hands balled into fists as he fought the natural urge to grab and pin you against the nearest surface just to hear your squealing laughter.

But he liked this game. Whatever you were doing was making his joggers feel very tight all of a sudden.

“I can and I will.” You said, voice going up in a teasing tone as you took a cautious step forward with narrowed eyes, like you were expecting him to jump forward and grab you. You looked pleased when he stayed put, reaching your arm out to touch his right pectoral with the pads of your fingers.

Max glanced at your fingers, the way they were mapping out the muscles of his skin and he inhaled quietly when you swiped over his nipple over his t-shirt, eyebrows pulling together. It was only when you put pressure in your fingers that he took a few steps back, letting you walk him back until his knees hit the bed frame. He sat down gingerly, reaching for your waist but stopping immediately when you made a noise of disapproval.

“You’re just being cruel.” He said, annoyance pinching his face as he looked up at you and it made you grin because you knew how tortured he must’ve felt.

“I’m being tactical.” You said, gently straddling him and placing both of your hands on his shoulders. “I know that you’re gonna rip these as soon as you get the chance and I paid too much for them.”

Max sucked in his lips to hold his smile back, nostrils glaring with laughter and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“I can always buy you new—“

“No.” You cut him off with a shake of your head, laughing. “Just… enjoy it.” You reached for his hands and guided them back, placing his palms against your ass.

It was hard to contain the gasp when he immediately squeezed, like he was trying to grab as much flesh in his hands as he could. You grind forward with a muted moan and it makes Max swear in your ear as you finally sit crotch to crotch.

You lean forward to capture his mouth in a kiss, smiling at the way he eagerly responds and circling your arms around his shoulders to bring him into you.

“Fuck, you smell good.” He murmured when you separated, eyelids fluttering shut when you kiss down his jawline to his ear, burying his nose in the softness of your hair.

You suck small hickeys into the skin of his throat, paying extra attention to his Adam’s Apple because you know that it makes his eyes roll. Your hands grab into him a squeak leaves your lips when he suddenly drops back on the bed, taking you with him and the expression on your face makes him laugh.

“I’m staying on top.” You said, arching a brow like he’d ever say no to that and he grins like you know he would, pulling a hand back to spank your ass cheek. “Max!”

“Get to it then.” He says it jokingly, but there’s a fire in his eyes that makes you comply happily.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

this was kinda rushed 🫢 but I just wanted to do this quickly so I could go back to writing my fic. I’m in such a slump rn that I’m trying to get out of but I hope this was somewhat enjoyable. thank youuu for your lovely request 🤍