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witchesverse · 3 months ago

Text

please, don't.

pairing: agathario x reader

summary/request: you're an inexperienced witch who tried to stop her coven from executing agatha. after agatha kills them, rio appears, and that is how you meet the loves of your life. once you and nicholas die, agatha and rio part ways, only to see each other on the witches' road.

content: character death, getting shot, blood, crying, begging, angst without a happy ending.

masterlist

a/n: erm so im not entirely sure if this what u wanted but this is what i wrote anyway :> icl this is not what i normally write so if it sucks that's why lol

1693

The forest was typically quiet, the only sound being the running of water and the chirping of a bird. You loved the quiet, though. After living in a busy, loud village for most of your life; the quietness was peaceful. Plus, it gave you a chance to practice your witchcraft without someone screaming in your ear about it. But, it sometimes got lonely.

So, when you heard the loud screams and cries of a woman, it peaked your curiosity and you crept towards it.

One half of your brain was blaring alarm bells. This could easily be a trap that you were foolishly walking into. But, the other half of your brain told you that there could be someone in danger and you couldn’t not help them.

Your eyes widened. There was a group of women standing around a small stage with a woman tied to the pole in the center. The scream must have come from her.

“You stole knowledge above your age and you practiced the darkest of dark magic.” One of the women spoke. “You will be executed for your crimes, Agatha.”

Even before you started practicing witchcraft, dark magic had always been an interest for you. You had dreamt of learning dark magic and becoming a powerful, twisted witch. Now, this was your perfect chance to learn dark magic and your teacher was about to be executed.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You were positive that these witches had centuries of witchcraft on you, but that didn’t stop you from throwing an attack spell at them. You impressively managed to hit 3/6. The three witches that you hit fell to the ground and squirmed in pain.

Unfortunately, you were blasted into a tree by one of the other witches. You groaned. You felt like all your bones had been snapped in half.

Two witches lifted you to your feet and dragged you in front of the oldest looking witch. She was angry.

“Who is this pathetic excuse of a witch?” She asked.

“The hell did you just call me?” You roared. “I’ll snap your fucking neck.”

Your threat was empty. You had never inflicted such damage against a person, but you hated being called a ‘pathetic witch’. You preferred the term ‘inexperienced witch’ or ‘baby witch’.

“I’ll deal with her after this.” She waved her hand and you were dragged to a tree, hands bound behind your back with magic.

You couldn’t believe it. You had lost your chance of learning dark magic and now, you were probably going to be killed. That is beyond embarrassing.

You flinched as Agatha was blasted with six beams of magic. Normally, that would kill a person immediately, but she didn’t die. She screamed in pain but with horror, you watched as their blue beams turned purple and they had the life sucked out of them.

Their lifeless bodies slumped to the floor. “Holy shit.”

Agatha sighed, stepping down from the stage and looking contently at the dead bodies of her coven members. You accidently snapped a twig underneath your foot as you moved towards her, causing her attention to snap to you.

“You tried to save me. Why?” She asked.

“You’re unique and that interests me. Not many witches practice dark magic anymore and I want you to teach me.”

Suddenly, you felt an uncomfortable and cold feeling wash over you. You glanced around the forest until your eyes landed on her.

“I must say, that was quite the performance.”

The woman moved towards Agatha and you. There was an unsettling feeling about her - something not human.

“And you are?” Agatha questioned.

“Rio Vidal.” She bowed dramatically. “And I think we’re going to make a perfect team, baby.”

1815

You scowled and crossed your arms. You had been trying to successfully do this spell for the past 5 months, but you haven’t been able to. It frustrated you that you couldn’t do it.

Agatha kissed the top of your head as she walked past you. “You’ll get it at some point, sweetheart.”

You noticed the basket of fresh strawberries in her hand. “What’s that for?”

“We’re having a picnic.” Your eyes lit up and she smiled. “Come on. Grab your coat, it’ll be cold.”

You walked for 20 minutes until the thick trees faded and you walked into an opening. It was beautiful. You followed the trail of flowers that led to the edge of a cliff, the strong smell of wet grass and salty seawater combined with a nice breeze made you smile.

“There are my girls.” Rio sat cross-legged on one of the cushions on the picnic blanket and smiled at you. She patted the cushion in the middle and you sat down.

There were different types of fruit, baked goods, and drinks spread around the blanket.

“When did you plan this?” You asked.

Agatha sat next to you and placed her hand on your thigh. She always put her hand there; she said it made her feel at peace.

“A few weeks ago.” She answered, grabbing a grape and popping it in her mouth. “We figured you deserve a reward for doing so well in your learning.”

You kissed both of their cheeks. “Thank you.”

For a while, you talked and ate with them whilst looking out into the ocean. You excitedly pointed out every marine animal you spotted in the waves, which caused Rio to spew facts about them. After being around since the start of death, she had many nerdy facts about animals.

Once the sun had started to set, you became sleepy. Your head was resting in Rio’s lap and she scratched lightly at your scalp, lulling you to sleep. Agatha sat with her head resting against Rio’s shoulder and they quietly talked.

You sighed happily. Sometimes you thought about what your life would have been like if you didn’t try to help Agatha. You wouldn’t have met Agatha and you would’ve first met Rio once you died.

Suddenly, there was a loud scream.

You all stood and became very aware of how exposed you were in the opening. There was silence for a few moments, then there was another scream and a gunshot.

“You need to go.” Rio shoved Agatha and you towards the forest.

“What’s going on?” You couldn’t hide the panic in your voice.

“Witch hunters.”

Your heart dropped. Lately, there was an uprising in witch hunting, but you thought that you lived far enough from a village that there was no risk. Clearly, you were wrong.

Agatha grabbed onto your wrist and dragged you through the forest. You shook in fear with each gunshot and scream you heard. Even though your girlfriend was Death, death still scared you.

“Oh, and what do we have here?”

You froze and Agatha cursed loudly, shoving you behind her. A man stood in front of Agatha with his gun pointed at her with a sick, twisted smile on his face.

He pulled the trigger.

You don’t even know how your body reacted that quickly, but you managed to step in front of Agatha and took the bullet straight through your heart. You dropped to the ground, blood spurting from your chest.

Agatha screamed and blasted the boy with her magic, leaving a blazing hole in his stomach. His lifeless body collapsed.

“No, no, no.”

Agatha turned you on your back. There was blood dripping from your mouth and your chest. She couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

“Agatha.”

Rio stood next to her.

“Shut up, Rio.” She snapped. “Please, shut up.”

“Agatha.” She said more sternly.

Agatha shook her head. “You can stop this. Bring her back to life.”

Rio sighed and crouched next to your body. She tried to brush your hair out of face but Agatha slapped her hand away.

“Do not touch her.” She spat. “You bring her back to life or you don’t fucking touch her, do you understand me?”

Rio stood, her face emotionless. She stared at Agatha, almost like she was waiting for Agatha to change her mind, but once she realised there was nothing more she would say, she left.

1887

Agatha cried out in pain and leaned on a tree for support. After carrying her child for 9 months, he was finally ready. With tears falling down her cheeks, she prepared herself for birth.

She was finally going to meet her boy.

Then, she saw the familiar figure.

“No, please.” She cried as Rio stepped towards her. “My love, please don’t do this to me again.”

Rio didn’t reply.

“You took Y/n from me. Please give my boy, I need him.” She begged. “I will hate you forever if you do this.”

Rio swallowed. “I can only offer time.”

And so she did. Agatha birthed a healthy baby boy who she named Nicholas, and he lived for six years until Rio took him. Once again, Agatha’s heart broke and she was left alone.

2026

Since the death of Nicholas and yourself, Agatha and Rio weren’t in contact. Agatha hated her with every fiber in her body. Rio, on the other hand, missed and craved Agatha with every fiber in her body.

So, when Rio was summoned to The Witches’ Road, the exact place where Agatha stood, they both felt strong emotions.

“Agatha,”

It was quiet, besides the occasional snores from Alice. If you were there, you would have considered it to be peaceful and relaxing.

“I know you’re awake, Agatha.”

Rio carefully stepped over the sleeping bodies and sat in front of Agatha. She rolled her eyes when she saw that Agatha had her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

Rio flicked her forehead. “I want us to talk.”

Agatha glared at her and sat up. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Rio grabbed Agatha’s collar and tugged her forward. Agatha tried to recoil but Rio kept her close.

“Yet, there is.” She insisted. “They wouldn’t want us to be like this. Y/n would want us move on and continue living the perfect life that we had.”

“Don’t say that. You have no idea what they would want.” Agatha scoffed.

"Do you seriously think that Y/n and Nicky would want us to live with anger and hurt for each other?"

Agatha didn't respond.

Being this close to each other, Rio noticed small details about Agatha’s face. There was a small scar under her left eye that hadn’t been there before, and she wondered where she got that from.

“It broke my heart to take both of them from you. I did not enjoy watching you cry and beg, but-"

Agatha cut her off. “Once we get off The Witches’ Road, I do not want to see your face again. I want you to leave me alone, do you understand?”

Rio felt her heart break and she blinked back tears. She released Agatha from her grasp and stood. If Agatha truly didn’t want to see Rio’s face again, she would respect that, no matter how bad it hurt her.

#agathario x reader #agathario x you #agathario x y.n #agatha all along #agathario #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #bluewrites

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muniimyg · 18 days ago

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𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (19) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

note: the last. freaking. written. oh my god,, where did the time go !!! i honestly could've finished this fic in dec but got so busy w family stuff,, but i'm glad i'm wrapping it up now.. slower and more content <3 so happy to have seen all the love and support this bbydaddy ,, and can not wait to share more of the series with u !!! love u,, see u at the end :)

warnings: dirty talk, ass slapping, titty play, doggy,, missionarykissing, creampie and so much vibes !!!

“hi mommy!”

you roll your eyes and almost shut the door in his face.

“go away, jungkook.”

he laughs, loud and shameless. then, without warning, jungkook wedges his body between the door and the frame, stopping you from fully shutting the door. his arms are full of takeout bags, the smell of fried chicken and tteokbokki filling the entryway immediately. the aroma should make you hungry, but instead, it twists your stomach.

you're too tired to want anything.

“you look radiant,” jungkook teases, setting the bags down on the nearest counter. he can’t help but notice how pale you are and how slumpy your posture is. though he teases, he still means it as he says; “glowing. motherly. beautiful.”

you give him a flat look.

“i will hurt you.”

“sure you will,” jungkook says, grinning like you’ve just handed him the greatest compliment in the world. “why would you? actually, how can you when you have that giant thing in front—”

the sound of more footsteps behind him makes your heart sink.

you lean to the side, peeking past his broad shoulders, and your suspicion is confirmed—hyemi isn’t alone. the rest of the friend group piles in behind her, all laughter and overlapping voices. and then it hits you.

it’s just like last time.

the time they all found out you were pregnant—and you can’t figure out what to feel first.

relief? excitement? annoyance?

“surprise!” jin exclaims, throwing his arms out dramatically. “we’re here to cheer you up!”

you blink at him, then at everyone else, too stunned to speak.

“what’s that face?” hyemi asks, stepping inside with a bag of desserts in hand. she glances over her shoulder at the crowd behind her. “awh, ___… don’t look so excited, or they’ll think you’re happy to see them.”

“i’m not.”

“we know.” namjoon smiles as he ducks into the hallway, carrying what looks like half a pharmacy’s worth of supplies.

“why are there so many of you?”

you feel yourself beginning to get lightheaded.

“because we love you,” hobi says simply, dropping his shoes at the door before making a beeline for the kitchen. “now sit down before you pass out. you look exhausted.”

there it is.

health care friends at their finest.

you love your friends. you love your friends. they care for you. you love them. you love them. you love them. you love them—

hyemi hums in agreement, giving you a once-over.

“shit, ___. you’re grumpier than usual. reminds me of when you’re on your period.”

the jab earns her a collective groan from everyone else.

“don’t start,” hobi says, holding a hand up like he’s warding off bad energy.

“what? it’s true!” hyemi grins, clearly unbothered by their reactions. “___’s been pregnant for 9 months and suddenly you all forget what she’s really like when she’s over it.”

you’re too tired to even retort.

you are really over it.

“i wasn’t expecting all of you, that’s all. feels a little invasive especially when i’m about to birth an entire being.” you say, attempting to defend yourself.

“and we support you,” taehyung chimes in, entering with a huge smile on his face. “isn’t this the best-case scenario? yoongi wouldn’t let us bring any drugs but if we stress you out enough—we can help deliver the baby!”

the voices fade into the background as you sink onto the couch, the ache in your lower back easing slightly with the change in position. your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut as you exhale slowly.

the sound of the front door opening again makes you lift your head, though, and when you see who it is, your pout returns.

yoongi steps inside, looking a little sheepish, and offers you a soft smile.

“hey.”

“hey,” you mumble back, watching as he crosses the room toward you.

he leans down, kissing your forehead before his lips find yours, gentle and familiar. the kiss lingers, quieting the irritation buzzing under your skin.

at this point of your relationship, it feels like every kiss after the other was a million years ago. like you need to be kissed by him every 5 minutes just so you can function. it’s a high you never expected to get addicted to, but who cares?

he’s all yours.

“i’m sorry. i really thought this would cheer you up. hyemi suggested it—and… i-i didn’t think they’d annoy you this fast—”

“i wasn’t flirting with jungkook,” you grumble against his mouth, the words spilling out before you can stop them. your sudden change of subject has yoongi pulling back.

a smile tugs in, soft but apologetic. he brushes a thumb over your cheek, leaning in close again. “i know,” he murmurs. “i’m sorry for overreacting.”

just like that, the fight is over.

yoongi then slips an arm around your waist, helping you to your feet with ease. his hand lingers on the small of your back as he leads you back toward the group, his presence steadying you as the noise and laughter fill the space once more.

you lean into yoongi instinctively as he helps you back into the living room, his hand firm and steady on your waist. you swear he moves slower than necessary like he’s afraid you might topple over if he so much as lets go for a second.

“yoongi, i’m pregnant. i’m not glass,” you hiss, though you don’t pull away.

“same difference.”

you sit back on the couch with a little huff, and yoongi crouches beside you, carefully adjusting the blanket draped over your legs like he’s tucking you in for the night. his fingers brush your knee through the fabric, and the touch sends a ripple of warmth through your chest.

“anything you need?” he asks softly, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“for them to leave.”

he chuckles under his breath, a low sound that makes your pout falter.

“i’ll take care of them later. they want to be here for you right now. is that okay?”

“it’s okay.”

“good—”

“don’t go anywhere,” you stop him for getting up. “stay besid me. i’m scared of taehyung right now. he wants to deliver my baby—”

yoongi snorts.

“okay, okay.” he promises, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knee before he stands. but he doesn’t go far. instead, he perches on the arm of the couch, staying close enough that his hand finds its way to the back of your neck, his fingers curling there with a familiar ease.

“what’s this?” jin’s voice cuts through the moment, his tone pitched just enough to be obnoxious.

you glance up, startled, and catch him pointing at your hand. more specifically, the small, delicate ring glinting on your finger.

“that’s been there,” hyemi says, leaning back against the armchair with her arms crossed. she tries to act coy with it, but she’s only really seen the ring on your finger once. “you’re just noticing now?”

“wait… that’s new,” jungkook interjects, squinting. “like... really new.”

a ripple of realization passes through the group, and their gazes flick between you and yoongi with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.

“it’s a promise ring.”

“sure,” namjoon says, dragging the word out as he adjusts his glasses. his lips twitch, failing to hide a grin. “are you two even together?”

you and yoongi pause.

“promise ring this, promise ring that… everything but boyfriend and girlfriend. baby and all. holy shit, do you even love the lord?” jimin teases.

“promise ring? what are you guys? 16?” jin adds, earning a round of laughter.

“can you not?” yoongi mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. his hand shifts to your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

hyemi catches the way you lower your gaze.

“what i think they mean to say is that… we’re happy for you,” hyemi says, her voice softer now, a rare moment of sincerity slipping through her usual banter. she attempts to correct the guys but steers the ship in a completely different direction. “you two are good together. and even though ___ would’ve said yes if that was an engagement ring—”

“w-wait, what?” yoongi’s head snaps toward hyemi so fast you’d think she just revealed a state secret. his eyes are wide, disbelief etched across his face. “hyemi, what did you just say?”

hyemi grins, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s unleashed.

“you heard me.”

you groan, dragging a hand over your face.

“god, don’t listen to her. she’s talking nonsense.”

but it’s too late.

yoongi’s gaze is locked on you now, searching for something in your expression.

“but is it true?”

“no,” you say quickly, your voice sharper than intended. “why would you even—”

“___, if it was an engagement ring…” hyemi chimes in, her voice sing-song, “wouldn’t you have said yes, ___?”

“hyemi!” you snap, glaring at her. your cheeks burn, the heat spreading all the way to your ears.

yoongi blinks.

his lips parting as if he’s about to say something, but you cut him off.

“can we not do this right now? i’m tired, i’m grumpy, and i’m this close to kicking you all out.”

the room goes quiet for a beat, the tension hanging heavy in the air.

then taehyung, ever the instigator, leans forward with a wicked grin.

“so… that’s a yes.”

the teasing simmers down after that, the room settles. namjoon and jin argue over whether or not they should check your blood pressure, while jungkook, taehyung, and jimin try to beat hyemi and hobi with some card game.

yoongi hasn’t left your side. his arm draped casually along the back of the couch. when your head tips onto his shoulder, he doesn’t hesitate, pressing a kiss to your temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“they’re not leaving anytime soon, are they?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“probably not,” he replies, lips quirking in a small smile.

you sigh, closing your eyes. the room is loud, but his presence is grounding. for a moment, you let yourself sink into it, the warmth of his hand on your arm and the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear.

“okay, let’s be serious for a second,” namjoon announces, standing in the middle of the living room with a no-nonsense expression that only half-convinces anyone. “you’re due any day now, so we should probably—”

“no.”

you cut him off so fast that it takes him a moment to register.

“but—”

“no.” you shake your head, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “absolutely not. you’re not poking me, prodding me, or whatever else you have planned. not happening.”

jin sets his drink down and raises a brow. “we’re doctors. we’re just trying to help.”

“you run a dermatology practice. you are not my OBGYN. you’re my friends,” you retort, glaring at them. “i love you all so much. thank you for caring and for all the support you’ve given me for the past 9 months. whether it was running an errand or picking up a craving, to planning a surprise baby shower and for this—i am so grateful. but holy fuck, i do not want to be touched. if you guys are here as my friends, then do that. be my friends right now and distract me since no one brought any fucking drugs.”

yoongi glances between you and the two men, hesitating. “honey, maybe just—”

“no.”

“you seem stressed. maybe checking your blood pressure isn’t an awful idea—”

“yoongi,” you snap, turning to him with a warning look. “don’t.”

he holds his hands up in surrender, lips twitching as if fighting a smile.

“okay, okay. no check-ups.”

“she’s scary,” jin mutters to namjoon, who nods in solemn agreement.

the moment is interrupted by jungkook’s sudden, blunt proclamation: “you’re really pretty, though. personally, i like it when you’re bitchy.”

your head whips around to look at him, eyebrows raised.

“what?”

“i mean, you’re glowing and all that,” he continues, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “but also... just pretty. i can’t wait to see your boobs get all big and milky—”

you stare at him for a beat before snorting, laughter bubbling up despite your irritation.

“shut up, jungkook.”

“i’m serious!”

“she said shut up,” yoongi interjects, his tone calm but edged with something sharper. he leans forward, smacking jungkook lightly on the chest. “remember what we talked about before coming here? boundaries, right? she’s the mother of my child, not some girl you get to flirt with.”

“but... she’s ___. our ___.” jungkook protests, gesturing at you.

“my ___,” yoongi corrects him.

your heart skips a beat, the simple declaration sending a wave of warmth through your chest. you glance down, fiddling with the edge of the blanket to hide the smile threatening to break free.

“ugh, you’re both annoying,” hyemi interrupts, rolling her eyes. “can we focus on something fun? karaoke, maybe? or better yet, you guys can cook.”

“cook?” you echo, sitting up straight. “absolutely not. do you know how much yoongi paid for that stove? you’ll burn the kitchen down.”

“you need to relax,” hyemi says, waving you off. “it’s your last few momments of peace before you officially become a milf. let us take care of everything.”

“i don’t need to be taken care of,” you argue, even as yoongi gently pushes you back against the couch.

“you do,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “just for tonight.”

you glance around at the group, their faces bright with amusement and affection, and something in you softens.

no one waits for you to answer.

truth be told, you don’t have much left in you. so, you let them do their thing. soon enough, the room buzzes with laughter as the guys head to the kitchen, their voices mixing with the clatter of pots and pans. hyemi sets up the karaoke machine, throwing you a wink before belting out an off-key rendition of some pop song.

yoongi stays by your side, kneeling in front of you with a plate of food in hand. he picks up a piece of kimbap and holds it out, his expression soft and expectant.

“open,” he says simply.

you narrow your eyes at him, but the corners of your lips tug upward despite yourself.

“i can feed myself, you know.”

“we talked about this, remember?” yoongi reminds you. “figure out how to need me.”

“i’m fine—”

“then humor me.”

with that, you sigh but obey. you lean forward to take the bite. his thumb brushes against your bottom lip as he pulls his hand back, and your cheeks warm at the casual intimacy of the gesture.

the noise in the background fades for a moment, replaced by the steady thrum of your heart.

you glance around the room, taking in the laughter, the teasing, the warmth that fills the space. it hits you all at once—this is the last time you’ll all be like this. the next time they come over, there’ll be a baby crying in the background, diapers on the counter, and toys scattered across the floor.

your throat tightens, a mix of happiness and nostalgia swelling in your chest. you reach for yoongi’s hand, squeezing it gently. he looks up, his gaze softening when he meets yours.

“what?” he asks quietly, leaning closer.

“nothing,” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder. “just... thanks for being here… and for not letting them touch me right now. i just… i only want you. i'm sorry i'm being such a bitch.”

“don't be... and for the record; i want you to only want me,” he replies, his voice steady and sure. “because me? i want you always.”

and somehow, in the chaos of it all, everything feels exactly as it should be.

always.

by the time everyone leaves, you fell asleep about 3 times.

as yoongi manages to kick taehyung, jimin, and jungkook out, he wakes you up gently and helps you get to bed. in between little giggles and stumbles along the way, yoongi manages to tuck you in.

he leaves you be as he gets ready for bed. then, after what feels like an eternity, he joins you. laying beside you, he pulls you close.

“so… are we getting married or—”

“oh my god.” you bury your face into his chest. you mutter curses under your breath.

yoongi chuckles, bringing his hands to your hair. as he pats your head and plays with your hair, you feel his hand up your cheek. lifting your face up, his eyes look into yours.

“you’d really say yes?” he asks.

with wide eyes, you look at him and feel it. your heart stutters at the way he’s looking at you. it’s too much—too sincere, too raw—and frankly? you aren’t too sure if you’re in the mood to dea with it.

“would you stop?” you sigh, averting your gaze. “it’s late.”

“so… yes?,” yoongi echoes, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

you huff, reach up and place a kiss on his lips.

“yes,” you admit. “if you had asked me to marry you, i would’ve said yes.”

“noted.”

“go to sleep, babydaddy.”

“is that all i am to you?”

“yup.”

you’re past your due date.

to be exact, you’re 1 day past your due date.

to be even more exact—it’s 2AM on the day of your due date.

you’ve been tossing and turning in bed, unable to get a wink of sleep. perhaps it’s the excitement or perhaps it’s the fact that you’ve never been so fucking uncomfortable in your entire life until now. regardless, you push and shove the blanket off of you and get up from bed.

yoongi is asleep, his face half-buried in his pillow with one hand tucked under it, the other resting on your side of the bed like he’d been holding you before you slipped away. you glance at him, briefly considering crawling back in just to steal some of his calm. but the restlessness gnaws at you, so you leave, careful to avoid the creak in the floorboards as you shuffle out of the bedroom.

in the living room, the hospital bag sits exactly where you left it by the door. it’s already been double-checked—more than triple, honestly—still, you kneel (slowly and not so prettily) and unzip it again.

clothes, baby onesies, snacks, charger. waterbottle. pillow. pajamas. fully charged iPad.

your fingers brush over each item as if they might’ve magically disappeared since the last time you looked. satisfied, but still not satisfied, you zip it back up and wander into the kitchen.

the fridge hums softly, and you open it, scanning the shelves of prepped meals, labeled containers, and the stash of snacks yoongi insisted on packing "for himself, but really for you.” he’s always prepared like that—calm, measured, thinking five steps ahead.

it’s part of what’s kept you grounded through this whole thing, but right now it’s also infuriating.

how can he be so fine when you’re this... this?

your hand rests on the counter as you exhale sharply, shoulders slumping. keys, wallet, slippers—all lined up neatly by the door.

everything’s ready.

except you.

you feel a swell of emotions—anxious, impatient, annoyed—and it only intensifies as you pad into the bathroom, flipping the light on softly.

the mirror reflects your tired eyes first, then your body. your hands instinctively go to your belly, fingers tracing over the curves and stretch marks that have formed like vines around your stomach. it’s beautiful, really. the garden that you are and the flower that blooms inside of you.

it feels almost bittersweet now.

“what’re you doing up?”

yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, gravelly with sleep. you meet his eyes in the mirror, his hair tousled, a crease from the pillow faintly etched into his cheek.

“couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, watching as he steps closer. his arms wrap around you, warm and secure, his hands resting on the swell of your belly. he presses his chin into the crook of your neck, placing a soft kiss against your cheek.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and soothing. “hmmm? tell me, honey.”

you sigh, leaning back into his hold.

“i feel… anxious. and annoyed. and so tired but not tired enough to sleep. and you’re just in there snoring like nothing’s happening.”

“you’re mad at me for sleeping?”

“yeah.”

he chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through your back. “okay. you’re cute when you’re mad.”

“don’t start,” you warn, glaring at him in the mirror, though the edge in your tone is dulled by his touch.

“seriously, though,” he says, turning his head to kiss your temple this time, “you’re doing amazing, and everything’s ready. we’ve checked through everything over and over again. ___, you don’t have to stress.”

you huff, crossing your arms over his. “easy for you to say. you’re not the one carrying a human who’s decided to take their sweet time coming out.”

he chuckles softly, nuzzling into your neck. “baby injeolmi is taking their time because the home you are for them isn’t an easy goodbye. you’ve been glowing throughout this entire pregnancy. you’ve been so healthy and perfect, ___. baby injeolmi is allowed to take their time. you’re the perfect home.”

“well, i’m ready,” you snap, twisting around in his arms to face him. the irritation bubbling in your chest spills over, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “maybe we should just—i don’t know—have sex or something. isn’t that supposed to help?”

yoongi freezes for a beat, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “...what?”

“i heard that if you cum inside of me, it helps soften my cervix,” you say, arms akimbo now, glaring up at him like he’s the one keeping the baby from arriving. “this baby’s already late, and i’m losing my mind. i don’t really care to try other remedies right now—”

“you’re serious?” he cuts in, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly lazy grin. “you’re actually suggesting this right now?”

“what’s wrong with the suggestion?” you grumble, the heat rising to your cheeks more from frustration than anything else. “you don’t want to have sex with me, is that it—”

“shut up,” he bites back a laugh, his hands coming up to rest gently on your waist. “i can’t take that sentence seriously… but you know, most people don’t demand it like they’re negotiating a business deal.”

“yoongi,” you warn, shooting him a glare that could burn a hole through steel.

he leans down slightly, his face softening as he brushes a thumb over your cheek.

“alright, alright,” he says, voice dropping to that low tone that makes your knees feel a little less steady. “if it’ll make you feel better.”

you roll your eyes but don’t move away when he tilts his head, kissing you slow and deliberate, like he’s determined to tease you just a little more.

“make it worth it,” you mutter against his lips, still annoyed, but letting yourself be pulled under his warmth anyway.

“oh, i’ll make sure of it,” he murmurs back, his smirk pressing against your mouth as his hands trail lower.

you giggle as he begins to feel you.

the night gown you’re wearing is pretty thin and and low. yoongi has no problem tugging the top part down, revealing your breasts. he stares at them through the reflection of the mirror as he guides his hands around them. massaging your breasts, you let out a moan as he sloppily kisses your cheek.

“y-yoongi?”

“yes, honey?”

“i love you,” you breathe. “need you to know that… because i want you to fuck me like you don’t.”

for a moment he’s stunned.

“you want it rough, baby?”

“so rough…” you hum. “bend me over, slap me around, and treat me like your favourite toy.”

he hisses.

“not my toy,” yoongi mutters. “___, you’re the love of my life.”

you pause.

“w-what?”

yoongi pauses too. he brings his hands to cup over your cheeks and looks into your eyes.

“i love you. i’m in love with you. you’re the love of my life, ___. nothing has ever made more sense than this.”

yoongi fucks you like he never has before.

it’s fucking wild.

the way his pelvis hits your ass as he pulls your hair has you absolutely floored. every time your knees shake, he slaps your ass and hisses at you. you can’t help but feel so fucking horny.

“take more,” yoongi grunts. “you wanted more, right? you said you could handle it? fucking handle it.”

he thrusts in you, hard and rough. his pace is selfish—almost relentless… but it also feels so fucking good. yoongi fucks you like he has been wanting to this entire time.

“n-nghhh,” you moan. “y-yes… like t-that daddy! fuck me so good…”

yoongi continues to fuck you like a dog. he whimpers and mutters things under his breath, causing you to focus on his breathing. you like the way he’s panting and losing his mind over your pussy. before you can make a comment about it, he holds you in such a way that turns your body over.

he towers over you and practically drools at the sight of your tits.

yoongi lowers himself, shoving his face into them. he licks your nipples, flicks them, and bites. you throw your head back, feeling how sensitive they are as he uses his tongue to play with them. they harden but it’s nothing compared to how hard his fucking cock is.

he lifts himself up and hits your his dick agaisnt your folds. without warning, he sinks his heavy cock inside you. you gasp, but he interrupts it with a kiss.

the kiss starts slow—like yoongi’s testing your resolve, coaxing you out of your annoyance with the deliberate press of his lips. but when your hands grip his hair, pulling him closer, his control unravels. his mouth moves against yours with a deeper urgency, his fingers curling into your waist like he’s anchoring himself. whatever frustration you have suddenly dissolves, replaced by the heat pooling in your chest as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

fuck.

it’s not just a kiss; it’s a conversation, a promise, a distraction.

yoongi kisses like he’s reminding you of every reason to trust him, to lean into him, to let him take care of you. and for a moment, you forget why you were ever annoyed in the first place.

against his lips, you murmur; “i love you.”

he smiles.

“i love you too.”

with that, yoongi digs himself deeper inside you.

you feel him everywhere. his fat cock hits different angles and reaches further than what you remember. you feel choked about it to be honest… his dick has always been big and it’s never been easy for you to adjust to—but perhaps with all the pregnancy sensitivity, his cock feels even more insane to you.

it’s so insane.

like, you’re near sobs insane.

“a-are you crying?”

“no,” you pant. “i… i just… fuck, i love this so much. i’m gonna cum soon—o-oh, god! y-yoongi… mhmmm…”

he chuckles, tucking your hair back. yoongi fucks you, deep and fast. you gasp from the sharpness that suddenly occurs. he smirks at the way your lips curve. they twitch and it boosts his ego.

“you like that, mama? you like that i’m fucking your pretty pussy like this? like a fucking dirty slut? been fucking flirting with jungkook all week—”

“i wasn’t—”

“should’ve just stayed patient, honey,” yoongi growls. “what? you think he can fuck you like this? fuck you like you’re the most perfect thing on earth? no. he can’t. only me, mama. only i can fuck you like this, okay?”

“o-okay—”

“say it,” yoongi demands. “fucking say it.”

“only you.”

yoongi inhales sharply. “yeah, that’s fucking right. my little creampie slut… god, you love my cum, don’t you?”

you nod. “love is so much. so milky and creamy—so fucking good. want you to fill me up again, daddy… i want it so bad. will you do it? cum inside me? love it so much…”

“whatever you want,” yoongi breathes. “but first, tell me how good i fuck you.”

you don’t hesitate. instead, you let your words spill out.

“you fuck me so good, daddy. so fucking good, i can’t breathe… your cock is so thick and big—i’m so sad i can’t suck it. i love how it fits inside me… i love how it makes me feel. so big. so fucking b-big… ughhhh… you have my pussy drenched, honey. so fucking wet for you all the time… i love your cock s-sooo much… don’t even know how to say thank you for fucking me like this. thank you, thank you, thank y-youuu… o-ohhh… oh my god! oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! yoongi—”

yoongi picks up the pace and fucks you so good that you’re at a loss for words.

you begin to sob, wrapping your arms around him. you hold tight as he drills himself inside of you, using you like a fuck toy. but you don’t mind… espeically when he’s this hot and this fucking perfect for you.

before you know it, he mutters; “holy fuck.”

and you feel it.

a big gush of his cum floods your insides. you feel his cum spill out but he continues to pump himself inside and out of you. you hold onto him, attempting to catch your breath too. truth be told, you came minutes ago… you’ve just been too into it to stop.

as he’s about to move, you stop him.

“don’t pull out. want to keep as much cum inside me.”

“i can’t get you pregnant again.”

you laugh as he kisses your neck.

he joins your laughter and holds you close too, his arms warm and steady around you. the sheets are tangled at your feet, your body still humming with the intimacy you just shared. for the first time all night, the tension that had been coiled in your chest is gone, replaced by a deep, bone-deep exhaustion and something softer—something sweeter.

“you good now?” he murmurs against your shoulder, his lips brushing over your skin in a lazy kiss. “can you get some rest?”

you hum, resting your cheek against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a comfortable haze.

“yeah. i think i might actually sleep now.”

“good,” he says softly, his voice thick with sleep as he presses his chin to the top of your head. “you need it, mama. we have the next few years to lose sleep.”

his hand strokes absentmindedly over your back, his touch grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into the quiet. the two of you are on the edge of drifting off when the words spill from your lips, unfiltered and raw.

“yoongi?”

“hmm?” he replies, barely awake but still tuned in, like he always is with you.

“i’m really glad it’s you.”

his hand stills on your back, and you feel him shift slightly, pulling back just enough to look down at you.

“what do you mean?”

you glance up, meeting his gaze. the room is dim, the glow from the streetlights outside casting faint shadows across his face, but his eyes are clear and focused, waiting for you to continue.

“i mean…” you take a breath, your fingers tracing the curve of his collarbone as you search for the right words. “i’ve always wanted this for myself, you know? the baby thing. the family thing… honestly? us. ever since the day i met you, i think i’ve always known you had the qualities i looked for and find attractive in a man… i never did anything because we barely knew each other but honestly? i’m so relived it’s you.”

“oh, are we confessing?” yoongi sighs. “i’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“really?”

“mhmm,” he kisses the top of your head. “all of this? all of you? worth the wait.”

the air stills.

“yoongi?”

“yeah?”

“the most healing thing i’ve ever done for myself is choose a good man to be the father of my baby. and that’s you.”

his lips part slightly, his expression softening as the words sink in.

“you’re patient and kind and thoughtful. you make me feel safe, even when i’m a mess. you make me laugh and you let me cry. you… sit with me through it all. you hold my hand and when i’m ready to run again, you’re right beside me. i can’t tell you how much i wanted this—how much i had convince myself i was worth being with a man like you… yoongi, you make everything better.” your voice cracks a little, and you laugh at yourself, shaking your head. “i don’t know how else to say it and it makes me so sad that you will never know the extent of it all but—i’m really glad it’s you.”

he’s quiet for a beat, his gaze steady, his thumb brushing over your cheek where a tear had slipped out unnoticed. then, he leans down, kissing you—not with heat or urgency, but with a tenderness that feels like an answer, like a promise.

when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“you have no idea how much that means to me,” he says, his voice low and steady, but the emotion behind it makes your chest ache. “to know that i’m good enough for you—it’s overwhelming. beyond anything i’ve ever imagined for myself. but to have you like this? to have you trust me, to love me the way you do... it’s everything, and i can’t fathom it. you and baby injeolmi are my everything. you always have been.”

9 months ago, yoongi murmured; "what are friends for?"

this.

moments like this.

where you’re reminded of how incredible it feels to love, to fall in love, and to be in love with someone like him. it’s not just a relief—it’s a revelation, a warmth that blooms in your chest and refuses to fade.

it's always.

#bts smau #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi scenario

345 notes · View notes

crepezinhos · 8 days ago

Note

hiii, ive been like binging your work and i LOVE IT!! its so hard to find yandere genshin blogs fr😭 can i request like yandere!scaramouche punishing the reader bcs of something bad, and then like after thag reader did not want to do anything and that made him more upset and tried punishing the reader again but bcs of that the reader dies (im so so sorry if this a weird request but ive been craving HEAVYYY angstt)

Flawed Execution

POV: Scaramouche isn’t the fastest man to realize if he has hurt a person, nor does he care about them when he does it. But now that it cost your life, for how long will his ignorance last?

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a Yandere and Angsty SFW work

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER PRONOUNS

— There is NO comfort and contains graphic mentions of heavy (physical) violence

— Fatui!Yandere!Scaramouche x Imprisoned!Reader

— AU is: In-Game

“Mmmngh..!” Your legs struggled to move in direction of your bed, almost falling down to the floor within every step you took.

But you knew that if you did crumble, it’d be agonizing and difficult to stand up again or control the thick bleeding in your belly that would be favored by gravity.

You’ve been through enough reasonless torture today. First, it was him, who got mad at you for acting too shallow and not so wifely with him, and threatened you with violence. His short, harsh words about using his hands on you kept spiraling in your head, and the anxiety you’ve consequently built up throughout the hours had only made your behavior less appropriate to his high standards. That’s when his second scolding came and when his previous words about punishment were accomplished just as promised.

Glass was his weapon.

Glass from the thin wine glasses you were peacefully sharing with him before he noticed your shaky hands and timid milliseconds of eye contact.

Glass shards that penetrated your skin like mosquito bites in multiple corners of your body, and have now unified themselves to make your whole body irritated with pain. Glass shards that had swirled themselves with your locks when he hit you in your head. It didn’t even matter to him if that was his favorite haircut on you or if you had invested hours in it to make yourself presentable to him as he had always demanded from you.

How ironic, don’t you think?

And that bigger glass shard that landed very roughly in your belly when it was turn to hit your glass of wine in your body, and he didn’t seem to realize how grave the injury was.

Just remembering that moment of him dragging you through the tips of your hair down to your chamber in the basement, despite all the pain you were already going through, while he screamed horrible words at you, or you, worming in the floor in pain while banging in the room’s metal door while screaming ‘I’m sorry’ over and over like a defenseless little prey about to be eaten, made your stomach twist itself with angst.

“You useless, USELESS wife! If you can’t even look at me properly, I won’t let you look at anything else but the gray walls of your bedroom!”

That was it. You were done for.

That was why the only torture you were willing to accept at this point was the pain you’d have to feel to get on your bed and finally rest. Somehow, you were even excited for it, unlike all the other past nights that you went to sleep wondering when would you ever get rid of him, but at least sleeping deeply thanks to its softness.

With a lot of struggle, you folded and lifted your right leg, opposite to where your injury was, landing it on your bed. Then, with an uncomfortable moan and a single arm in the bed, you forced yourself to jump and lean forward, successfully landing on the bed’s wooly sheets in a very awkward position with your back facing the roof.

Due to that favorable position, you felt even more layers of blood gushing down the hand that was trying to hold it back to your guts, which made you groan in discomfort.

Now, in a situation like yours, do you consider that injury a bless or a curse? That injury could cause you to possibly lose the movement of your legs and make you even more vulnerable to someone like him. That injury could heal normally, and no permanent damage would prevail. Or that injury could lead you to death.

…

You don’t want to die.

But at the same time…

Your logical thinking couldn’t deny that it was one of the few ways you could ever gain freedom again. And if there’s any sort of after-life destiny for your soul instead of a nothingness… you’d finally rest, right? No matter how you repelled the idea of death, a man like the 6th Fatui Harbinger makes it attractive.

After that little moment you took to think and breathe, you forced yourself to swiftly turn around, your injury now facing the ceiling while the left side of your head perfectly rested at the feathered pillow.

What a perfect position.

Relaxing, comfortable, and helpful…

If you were to truly die right now, at least you’d die with dignity. You’d die in a comfortable bed after enduring your roughest beating, without any guilt of knowing that you didn’t do that to yourself. After all, suicide was never an option to you, nor would he ever let your hands harm themselves.

And if you were to survive, it wouldn’t be as honorable as death. To wake up covered in rotting dark blood, whimpering in pain and alone in that eerie chamber with him stalking you from the door’s window or the camera he has in a tall corner of the walls.

Finally, the exhaustion weighing your eyelids finally became too overwhelming for you, so they closed, and you didn’t insist on keeping them open anymore.

Tomorrow would be a new day.

Pancakes, juice, biscuits, cake and fruits.

These are all, right? All her favorite breakfasts in a single tray.

She’s going to like it, I know it. And then, I’m gonna slide in some apology, no matter how crappy it is, and she’s going to accept it and praise me just as I trained her to do.

Everything will be back to normal, Kunikuzushi.

It wasn’t as bad as you think.

The heavy metal door to her chamber cranked loudly as I pushed it open, immediately finding myself staring at her laying down at the bed surrounded by dark, back facing me and being highlighted by the light of the hall I came from.

“Y/N.” I called out calmly while trying to keep my worries shoved down my throat.

And she didn’t move. Perhaps my volume was too low?

“Y/N, wake up.” Her body remained frozen in its place, no matter how much I had increased my volume.

Is she really this mad at me?

Well, I know it’s not going to be a tough to make her obey me anyway, so her silent treatment is useless.

“Are you trying to do that thing where you pretend to be asleep again so I’ll leave you alone, hum?” I finally decided to put myself inside the room, still standing as far as possible from her bed.

God, what is this awful smell of blood? Has she bled this much yesterday?

“It’s ok, don’t be shy. I know you can smell your beloved pancakes from there…” I gently shook the plate from where I was, trying to tease her into waking up.

But an annoyed sigh was all that came out of me due to her stupid, unconvincing act of being asleep.

“Listen, Y/N, I know what I did yesterday was horrible and wrong, okay?” My voice finally bursted some of my worry out of my throat, finally deciding to face the moment I most wished to avoid today, actually having to apologize. “I don’t know what happened to me, I just got really angry and…” I put my palm around my face as the embarrassment of apologizing took me over. “There’s no fucking excuse, is there?” No matter how much vulnerability and sincerity I was showing to her, she kept responding me with an awkward silence.

Isn’t she scared of doing this at all? Knowing how easy it is to anger me? Knowing how cruel my punishments can be? Using the same silence of hers was what led me to punish her yesterday? And she’s doing it again?

What happened to the third law of physics?

Every action has a reaction?

“All I’ve ever wanted for us is a happy married life, ok?! This wasn’t supposed to happen! We should just ignore it, pretend it never happened, and keep moving forward, ok?!” My voice cracked a few times as I started to vomit words.

Was me being this… pathetically apologetic and regretful loser not enough for her to acknowledge me? Isn’t she noticing the sadness in my tone?

“It would be easier to achieve if you were more collaborative!” Neither did harsh, unfair words work with her.

I sighed in annoyance, giving up on both alternatives of communication.

“Ever since I met you, I felt alive. It felt like I’d found peace for once in my life. I couldn’t just let this rare opportunity to slip away from me, Y/N, you’d never understand it, but you’re what has been keeping me more sane than ever. No mater if you hate me, repel me, I need you, Y/N. The more you stay with me, the better of a man I become, the better of a husband I become, the happier you become! You know it! You’ve seen it with your own eyes! How I treat you compared to the maids?! To the other Harbingers?! To my soldiers?!” I could feel even more worry rise to my brain as she still refused to acknowledge my existence.

But I’m being romantic. I’m confessing how deep and true my passion for her is, yet, it’s like I’ve never even opened the door in the first place. Isn’t this what a common human like her would want to hear? A man who loves her every cell and is willing to do anything for a fraction of reciprocation?

Have I hurt her this bad? Have I truly broken her trust for me with I did that yesterday?

“For fuck’s sake, can you acting like a bitch and fucking look at me?! I’m talking to you!!” Not even insulting you was making you move. “I’M DIRECTLY APOLOGIZING TO YOU!” I screamed from the bottom of his lungs while waving his arms to call her attention, expecting her to at least flinch in fear since I know Y/N didn’t like it when I was screaming at her.

But as I saw her body kept itself immobile, my anger finally reached its boiling point.

“I swear to God, do you want to be punished again?! You think you can just make me speak all of that bullshit and ignore m—!” I stormed in her direction, dropping the plate carelessly in the floor, my arm immediately reaching to your shoulder and pulling it to his eyes.

And the sight that was revealed to him made him swear his artificial body had stopped working for a few seconds.

Not a single muscle of your face moved, accentuated by an extremely pale skin tone on it compared to your normal one.

But the thing that most pulled his eyes’ direction was the big stain of blood in your belly.

Scaramouche froze in his spot. He wasn’t breathing or moving, he was just staring at your body. It made it easier for his consciousness to remember more about yesterday’s incident.

“Scara, please! I’m bleeding a lot! Can you please give me one towel?! O-Or anything to stop the bleeding?! Sca—… Darling, pleeeeease!!” The bangs at the door, the desperation in your voice, your pathetic body knelt down like a dying worm, begging for his mercy…

Was this why you were calling for him? Because of this gigantic pool of blood in your belly? But yesterday, when he heard those cries, all he thought was how annoying it was, and how he proudly ignored you with a sadistic smirk in his lips. Watching you beg for his mercy was somehow pleasant to him, after all.

He quickly shook his head back to reality. Thinking about those seconds made him feel the knot in his stomach tighten with more guilt.

“… Y… Y/N..?” He shook your shoulder gently, and the result was obvious, you didn’t respond.

He scoffed.

You were a good actress, weren’t you? You might even get a prize for it after being punished for tricking him so meanly. There was no way your soul had faded away from your corpse, you were either acting or just passed out because of the amount of lost blood!

Right..?

Scaramouche’s anxious hand immediately obliged to its instinct and placed itself on top of the left side of your chest, right on top of your heart… your paralyzed heart.

“Y/N…” His voice came out as a vulnerable mewl, one that would get worse every second he didn’t see you answering him. “Y/N.” He placed both his hands in each shoulder of yours and shook them lightly. “Y/N, wake up.” His voice was firm in its order, but worry had taken his voice chords, cracking its every syllable.

But all you did was bob up and down with his movement with no resistance at all. It almost seemed like you were a real-size doll in his hands.

“Y-Y/N, I know you’re awake.” He called your name like prayer, as he still found some hope to reach a hand to your eyelids and force them open while the other barely broke your shoulder’s bones with its grip.

But the direction of your stare was far from being directed at him.

“Ha… ahaha…” He couldn’t help but scoff at you in pure nervousness. “You aren’t…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the god-forsaken word. The one thing he hoped you to avoid at any cost… your death.

“Y/N, wake the fuck up!” His hand gave up in your eyes and went back to your shoulder, shaking you more violently then before, his eyes hopefully searching everywhere for any bit of movement.

But you simply just wouldn’t move a muscle.

He looked down at the big pool of blood in your lower belly. Rage consumed him as he violently moved his hand to pull your shirt upwards, raging at your stupid circulation system that pumped blood out of you instead of your veins and arteries, angry at the the glass that dared penetrate your beautiful skin without his consent and take you away from him.

“No, no, no, no…” He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to think such a thing. You? Taken away from him? Like this?!

An idea rose to his mind as soon as he thought of that idea.

This was all caused by him. His negligence, his sadism, his lack of empathy and sensibility, his obsession, his thirst of blood, his obnoxiousness.

“Y/N, wake the fuck up!” Scaramouche’s patience was wearing thin. “For Tsaritsa’s sake, no..!” And his lips were starting to shake with his rising rage.

How could’ve he ignored your pleas yesterday?

How could he feel pleasure when he saw all that blood and all those tears coming out of you? His precious princess that he had fallen in love with so badly? That mere common girl that he transformed into a public figure by being his wife.

“You hid this away from me… YOU DID THIS TO ME!” Finally, his voice couldn’t be held back to a normal volume anymore as he begun shaking your shoulders up and down too. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?! WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY?! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING THAT YOU WANTED!” His own Electro delusion even tinkled in purple as he raged on you.

You were actually dead.

You had actually distanced yourself away from him to a place he couldn’t reach.

But Scaramouche was fighting his best to not accept it. It was written all over your face that your soul was gone, but he wanted to gaslight himself that you were still just asleep.

Although his hopes were admirable, it simply didn’t work. It would never work for someone as pessimistic and honest like him.

In search of comfort, he threw himself against your body and finally let those hanging tears in the corner of his shiny purple eyes to fall, and he begun whimpering nonstop like a little kid on your and screaming in your shoulder.

“Please, please, please, please..! You can’t go, YOU CAN’T GO! Not yet, please! Not yet!” He rubbed his forehead in the crook of your neck, wiping his salty tears in you mercilessly, but no sign was returned to him. “Oh, Archons, please! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Anything but her, please! ANYTHING BUT HER! My love… oh, my love..!” His hands slid under your back and he hugged your body like a piece of wet porcelain as he pathetically abandoned his hatred for the Gods and begged for their mercy upon his sins.

But at the same time, he couldn’t help but claw his fingernails into your skin. But he immediately regretted it as soon as he realized he was hurting you even after you died of pain. Scaramouche gave up, and instead one of his hand climbed up to your head and started fixing your hair that was so ruthlessly ruined, trying to somehow bring your dignity back.

“Don’t leave me, please..! Don’t leave me! I’ll fix you, my love… I promise! I’ll fix everything!” What was he thinking would happen as he talked to your dead corpse? That the ‘power of love’ would suddenly make you awaken again and forgive him?

Has he just realized how much your words and your forgiveness truly mattered to him? Or was it that now that he didn’t have access to it, he was starting to crave for it like a drug-addict?

He didn’t mean it. He swore on his pathetic life. It was an accident. It wasn’t his intention hurting you. It wasn’t his intention hurting you enough to permanently take you away from him.

“I’m so sorry I left you here, darling…” Just to imagine the weigh of his actions and its consequences… you in an agonizing pain, thrown in a freezing-cold floor, completely unappreciated and unloved by him despite all your previous efforts… it made something inside his chest, right where his so-desired heart was supposed to be at, to burn. “Oh, Archons!” How human of him to be unable to bare the power of his own imagination. Could he even call himself a failed puppet project anymore? What kind of puppet, especially a flawed one, cries and grieves death like this?

How come does his sister, the Shogun herself, view death as simply the end of life, while he interpreted death so much more dramatically?

After all, he could’ve avoided it. Scaramouche could’ve saved you like a true hero.

If he decided to open the door to your chamber, bring some towels and force your bleeding back to your belly, called an ambulance, and let some group of surgeons do their job, instead of neglecting you for his own pleasure, you’d still be alive. Your chest would be moving up and down to breathe, your eyes would still be blinking every few seconds and your arms would be embracing him back at this very moment.

Maybe you would’ve even learned how to be more grateful to him, or suffered some sort of amnesia that would’ve let him rebuild your relationship with him but by bit in a natural way without needing to use any sort of violence.

“Thank you for saving me, my dear!” Your voice sounded so sweet in his imagination compared to how he heard you crying last night.

Were your last words pathetic begs for help? How undignified of you. How could’ve he ever let those be your last words? You died hating him instead of loving him.

Scaramouche attached and curled his limbs all around your body like a parasite. He knew it would probably take hours for him to find energy to get up again, so at least he wanted to spend those house by your side, mourning and grieving his own choices. It didn’t matter to him if it was creepy to cling to a cold dead corpse, he still held you tight if he needed you to live. It didn’t matter if your body’s warmth had ceased long ago, or if your arms wouldn’t even try hugging him back, he could still perfectly imagine himself being hugged by you thanks to the few memories he has of you doing so.

To him, you were wearing his favorite nightgown and acting very passionate about being his ‘head-patter’, caressing every inch of head, down to every tip of his purple locks while your mouth whispered sweet words, while the both of you laid down in his bedroom’s bed, instead of the situation you were actually in at the moment. All of your hair and clothes stained and ruined, your skin smelling like raw, bloody flesh, and your unresponsive and unloving to him.

Why would he ever want to leave that beautiful, utopian dream? Only to face the reality right in front of him? No. He didn’t want that.

Could he just die there? Never open his eyes again and let himself rot with you? Could he set fire to that beautiful mansion given to him by the Tsaritsa and let himself agonizingly burn to death with you and finally find peace after centuries of suffer? Compared to the burning pain in his chest, at this point, he believed the fire wouldn’t be enough to make him feel no more pain. But he probably wouldn’t be able to anyway. Now that he’s a Fatui Harbinger, his life wasn’t as useless as before, and while he was weaker than Dottore, he’d never die and rest in peace.

More tears ran down his cheeks. He truly had no other option rather than accept all that fire in his chest and let it consume him.

Maybe he could temporarily give you away to that scientist scum, Il Dottore, and beg for his help in exchange of anything, even his own life. In the end of the day, he would prefer you living without him, rather than letting himself live without you. His preference didn’t matter anymore, though, he was already living that dystopian situation of living without you. It has been a matter of minutes and he’s already finding himself developing a depression. Was that how bad it was to be without you? Was that how the rest of his pathetic life would be like? Wanting to die every day?

Why? Why did he ever chose to hurt you in the first place? This was all his fault. The memory of him willingly grabbing that glass of wine and smashing it against your head couldn’t stop playing itself over and over again no matter how disgusted he was of it or how much he tried to replace it with better thoughts.

How ironic. He promised himself he’d hate humans forever, that he’d never succumb to the mere bits of humanity inside him, and yet, he had made the most human mistake of his life, and having the most human reaction because of it.

Not even the incoming flies that flew around the room felt comfortable of taking advantage of your dead corpse with him nearby you.

Taglist: @shyentsfoundherink @the-stinky-winky @kindofshyent @bigmantiddys @goofy-ego @sasuri123 @gaboplaydespacito @alatusorrow @luminieee @toobytub

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

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p0orbaby · 5 months ago

Text

No Earth Just Sky

summary: your worlds collide, and so does your head with a fist

warnings: injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.5k

The corner comes in like a missile, curving dangerously towards the cluster of players jostling for position in the box. You’ve been eyeing it since the moment it left the Mapi’s boot, every fiber of your being focused on that one moment when it’ll be yours.

It’s a Champions League night, the kind where legends are made, and you’ve decided, in a split second of pure adrenaline-fueled brilliance—or idiocy, depending on who you ask—that you’re going to be the hero. You’re going to be the one who gets on the end of that cross, who heads it into the back of the net, and who sends Barca to victory.

But football is a cruel sport, and tonight, it decides to teach you a lesson the hard way.

You charge forward, eyes locked on the ball, and leap into the air. Everything around you fades, the roar of the crowd, the shouts from your teammates, even the blood pounding in your ears. It’s just you, the ball, and the goal.

And then, out of nowhere, everything goes wrong.

There’s a flash of red and white, a blur of motion as Arsenal’s keeper barrels towards you, fists outstretched. You don’t even have time to react, to dodge, to protect yourself. The collision happens in a heartbeat, in a single, devastating instant.

Her fist connects with the side of your head with a force that feels like a sledgehammer. The world around you shatters into a million pieces. The sound is a sickening crack that reverberates through your skull, and then there’s nothing but pain—blinding, searing pain that explodes behind your eyes and radiates down your spine.

You’re out before you even hit the ground.

When you come to, it’s like trying to claw your way up from the bottom of a deep, dark pit. The pain is still there, a dull throb that pulses in time with your heartbeat, but it’s distant, like it’s happening to someone else. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t do anything but lie there as the chaos unfolds around you.

You can hear voices, muffled and distorted, like you’re underwater. Someone is screaming—high-pitched, furious, and so full of raw emotion that it sends a shiver down your spine. It takes a moment to realise it’s Alexia.

You manage to open your eyes, just a sliver, just enough to see her, and it’s like looking at a completely different person. Her face is twisted in a mask of rage, her eyes blazing with a fire you’ve never seen before. She’s in the ref’s face, screaming in rapid-fire Spanish that you can’t make out, her hands shaking with the force of her fury.

Leah is there too, trying to hold her back, her arms around Alexia’s shoulders, but even Leah, strong, unflappable Leah, is struggling to contain her. Alexia is out of control, like a storm that’s broken loose and is tearing through everything in its path. And you realise, with a cold, sinking feeling, that she’s not just angry. She’s terrified.

The medics are on you now, hands probing gently at your head, voices whispering words meant to soothe, to reassure. You can’t focus on them, though, because everything hurts too much, and you’re still half-lost in the darkness that’s threatening to pull you under again.

You try to move, to sit up, to tell Alexia and Leah that you’re okay, that they don’t need to worry, but your body won’t cooperate. It’s like you’re made of lead, every limb too heavy to lift, every breath a struggle. And the pain—God, the pain—is overwhelming, a sharp, relentless agony that turns your vision red at the edges.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says, her voice firm but gentle. Like a mother telling their child they need to wash their hands before dinner. “We need to get you stabilised”

You want to argue, to tell them that you’re fine, that you can walk off the pitch like you always do, but you can’t. You can’t do anything but lie there, helpless, as the reality of what’s happened starts to sink in.

The game has stopped. The crowd is silent, a tense, expectant hush that feels like the entire world is holding its breath. You can see your teammates, their faces pale and worried, hovering at the edge of the scene like they’re too afraid to come closer.

But it’s Alexia that you keep coming back to. Alexia, who is still shouting, still fighting, who looks like she’s ready to tear the ref apart with her bare hands. Leah is pleading with her now, her voice urgent, her grip on Alexia tightening, but it’s like she’s not even there. All Alexia can see is red.

You’ve seen Alexia angry before. You’ve seen her fired up in matches, seen her argue with refs, seen her defend her teammates with a ferocity that borders on the terrifying. But this—this is different. This is personal.

And it’s because of you.

Finally, Leah manages to pull Alexia back, away from the ref, away from the Arsenal players who are now looking on in stunned silence. Alexia stumbles, her hands dropping to her sides, her chest heaving with the effort of trying to hold herself together. She looks over at you, and the rage melts away, replaced by something much worse—fear.

“Get her off the pitch,” Leah orders, her voice shaking. “Get her out of here”

The stretcher arrives, and they lift you onto it with the kind of care you’ve only ever seen in hospitals. You’re drifting in and out now, the pain ebbing and flowing like a tide, and it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open.

You catch one last glimpse of Alexia as they wheel you away, and the look on her face is one you’ll never forget. It’s broken, shattered, like the strongest person you know is crumbling right before your eyes.

“Alexia…” you try to say, but it comes out as a whisper, lost in the noise around you.

Leah is still holding her back, her eyes glistening with tears she’s trying desperately to hide. She’s saying something to Alexia, something you can’t hear, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing they say will change what’s happened. Nothing will make this okay.

As the tunnel swallows you up, the lights above blurring into streaks of white, the darkness comes rushing back, and this time, you can’t fight it. You let it take you, because what else can you do?

When you wake up, you’re in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose, the steady beep of a heart monitor the only sound in the room. Your head is wrapped in bandages, and every part of you feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder.

It takes a moment for you to remember where you are, to remember what happened. And when you do, the first thing you feel isn’t pain or fear. It’s guilt.

Guilt because you know Alexia’s probably blaming herself. Guilt because Leah’s probably worrying herself sick. Guilt because your team needed you, and you let them down.

You close your eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use. The memory of that moment—the collision, the pain, the sound of Alexia’s screams—is burned into your mind, and you know it’ll be a long time before it fades.

The door to your room creaks open, and you hear soft footsteps approaching. You open your eyes, and there they are—Alexia and Leah, both looking like they haven’t slept in days. Alexia’s eyes are red-rimmed, her hair a mess, and Leah… Leah just looks lost.

They don’t say anything at first, just stand there, staring at you like they’re not sure you’re real.

“Hey,” you croak, your voice weak and raspy.

Alexia bursts into tears.

Leah rushes to her side, wrapping her arms around her, holding her as she sobs into her shoulder. It’s the most heart-wrenching thing you’ve ever seen, and all you can do is lie there, helpless, as the two people who mean the most to you fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but they don’t hear you. They’re too wrapped up in their own pain, their own guilt.

You want to reach out, to comfort them, to tell them it’s not their fault, but you can’t. Your body won’t let you. So you just lie there, watching them, feeling like the worst kind of burden.

Eventually, Alexia pulls herself together enough to come to your side. She takes your hand, her grip gentle but firm, and looks at you with a mixture of relief and devastation.

“You scared us,” she says, her voice trembling.

“I scared myself,” you try to joke, but it falls flat. The pain in her eyes is too much to bear.

Leah comes to stand on your other side, her hand resting on your shoulder, her touch light as a feather. “You’re going to be okay,” she says, but it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than you.

You nod, but you don’t really believe it. Because you’re not sure if anything will be okay after this.

The game ended in a draw. Arsenal went through on away goals. Barca’s Champions League dream is over, and you’re lying in a hospital bed, feeling like the world’s biggest failure.

But for now, with Alexia and Leah by your side, maybe that doesn’t matter as much as it did before. Maybe all that matters is that you’re still here, still breathing, still fighting.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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myvoiddreams · 6 months ago

Text

Fragments of Starlight (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: After being left behind, the reader is on their own trying to find a way out before it’s too late. The reader grapples with unspoken affection for Azriel.

Word Count: 3,695

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: I am so excited with all the positive feedback from Part 1. Seriously, thank you all! I really wanted to focus on building a relationship between Azriel and the reader in this part. That way we can get into the reader’s mind a little bit and justify (if that’s the right word?) some actions between the two of them. Again, I am super new to this and would love feedback on anything! My messages are always open.

Part 1, Part 3

---

Before

I raised my hands ready to strike. Sweat was running down my forehead as the morning sun was already shining hot. I looked at Azriel, shirtless, toned, and glistening in the early morning heat.

Distracting, but honestly, I wasn’t going to complain.

I brought my head down and went in for the strike. My muscles ached as I punched to the right. Azriel made quick work of my hit, dodging to the left. As he went left, I kicked left, bringing my arm closer to my body to maintain some balance. What I didn’t see coming was Azriel’s gasp on my leg pulling my body to the earth.

My back hit the ground with a thump, and the air inside of my lungs escaped me. I could feel the dirt sticking to my damp shirt. Azriel crossed his arms and looked down at me with a smirk on his face.

Oh fuck this.

With a grunt, I twisted my body toward his legs and yanked while he wasn’t expecting it. This movement pulled his body to the earth alongside mine. In one fluid motion I pinned one of his wrists to the ground with my foot. Having to use two of my hands to pin his remaining one next to his head. I also straddled in waist, leaning over him with a smirk of my own.

We were both panting at this point as I stared down into his hazel eyes. Those damn eyes.

“It’s going to take more than making me fall on the ground to actually take me down, you know?” I smirked down at him as I brought my face closer to his, still breathing heavily.

Azriel slightly lifted his mouth toward my ear, panting himself. “There she is,” Azriel purred up at me.

If that wasn’t enough to set me ablaze, I don’t know what would be. I felt a creeping blush find its way up my neck and onto my cheeks. I released him and sat in the dirt next to him.

I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “You and Cassian better watch your backs. I’m getting better at this.” My hair was sticking to my face as I tried to wipe it away.

Azriel sit up, “You’ve always been good at this, Y/N.” He faced me and smiled, “Now, where is that winged bastard anyways?”

---

Now

They left me. Tears still ran down my face at the realization that I was not going to be saved. They were lucky to make it out of here with one of us, let alone two. There was simply no way that they would be able to get back into this camp after that. And that if there was anything left of me when they got here. I knew that it was only a matter of time before those males came back in here and realized that Elain was gone and wanted answers. Maybe even just to punish me for seeing it or taking part in it.

As if my mind summoned them, Hybern himself and a male drenched in all back made their way into the tent. I tried to dry up my remaining tears as fast as I could. I had to turn it off. The misery that surrounded not only my body, but my heart. I would not let them see that I was not affected by their treatment of me or my body. I would not let them earn that kind of satisfaction.

“Where is she.” The King demanded, “Where the hell is she!?”

I tried to hide my flinch as the male screamed in my face.

“She’s gone.” Is all is answered, but then, I was feeling angry. “She’s gone, and you will never get your hands on her again. You pig.” I spat. I would not let my eyes leave his.

The King wrapped his hand around my neck, closing off any air. “You’re going to regret that you were ever born, girl,” he snarled at me. My vision was fading, black dots swarmed it. Good. But, before I could find the release that death would bring, he let go. My body gasped for breath, trying to refill it’s empty and burning lungs.

That’s when I realized, the bleeding from my back and abdomen was slowing down. Was I healing? Slowly, but healing. When was the last time they used a blade on me? Half a day ago at this point.

I kept this revelation to myself as the male in all black strode forward and the King left the tent. To my luck, the male only brandished his fists, and no blades. I braced myself for the pain to come.

Relentlessly the male pummeled into me. Opening any old wounds and creating any new bruises he could. I forced myself to go somewhere else mentally. To only scream when I could not forcefully stop myself.

I wish they would have killed me. My mind chided. My mind.

If I was slowly healing, then maybe my mental shields were also coming down. The faebane that had been used on the knife was what was keeping me unable to feel Azriel, to communicate with Rhys, along with heal.

That’s when I truly let myself start screaming, projecting my mind out onto whatever would hear it. I screamed and screamed as loud as I could for anything. For help, for it to all end, for Azriel and Rhysand in any hopes that someone would hear me through my mind.

---

Before

I couldn’t sleep. The House of Wind was my only company as I strode the halls towards the library. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well read.

That’s when I heard an almost silent gasp and struggle. My heart sunk; it was coming from Azriel’s room. I couldn’t stop myself from walking closer to his door, continuing to listen. He remained making strained noises and grunts. What truly caught my ear was a whimper.

I simply couldn’t stand by. I slowly crept to open the door to his room. Azriel was in bed, shirtless and panting. The moonlight was catching his face, and he looked to be in agony. His bed was in disarray as the sheets were everywhere. Slowly, I made my way to the side of his bed and placed my hand on his shoulder.

“Az,” I let the air catch my whisper. “Wake up,” I slowly added my other hand to his remaining shoulder and shook.

At the movement his eyes ripped open and the next thing I knew, I was pinned to the bed with his blade at my throat.

“Az, it’s just me! You were just having a bad dream. I heard and came to wake you.” I gasped out, feeling the cold bite of the metal on my neck.

As fast as I was pinned down, I was let go. The blade no longer remained at my throat.

“What are you doing in here, Y/N?” Azriel ran his hand through his hair as he placed his blade down on a wooden table next to his bed. “I could have hurt you.”

I moved to sit up on the side of his bed, and I reached for his hand. I pulled him back to the bed, where we sat next to one another. “What was it about?” I questioned him. As long as I’ve known Az, I still wasn’t sure that he would want to open up to me. “We all have bad dreams Azriel. If I can help in anyway, please let me.”

I met his eyes as he sighed. “It was about my hands.” We both looked down, I hadn’t realized that I was still holding them in my own.

“About your scars? Your brothers?” I knew of what happened to Azriel and his hands, why he hated the sight of fire.

“Yes,” he sighed. I instinctually rubbed my thumb over his hands and smiled smally.

He looked so deflated. I hated seeing him this way. Sure, I knew that I liked him, hell maybe loved him at this point, but he was my friend first and foremost. I needed to be there for him.

“Do you usually have a hard time making it to sleep at night?” I questioned him trying to make him meet my eyes again. “I sure do.”

He looked a little surprised at the statement, but at least he was looking at me again. I sighed as I pushed myself back onto his bed and leaned up against the headboard. Azriel furrowed his brows at me in confusion. I only held my arm out to him, beckoning him to lay with me.

My heart was pounding. What the hell am I even doing right now? I asked myself.

But, Azriel listened and I found him with his head in my lap, laying down. My hand found its place in his hair. I played with it, and I struggled to keep my breathing straight. My other hand found his bare back between his wings and my fingers ran along it soothingly.

His husky voice broke the silence, “Thank you, Y/N.” He almost nestled further into my lap, finding some comfort in it.

“I’d do anything for you Az, even if it’s just hold you after a hard night.” I don’t know if I was crossing a line by doing this, but I would cross any line for Azriel.

“I hope you know I would do that same for you too, Y/N.” Azriel mumbled as his breathing steadied, and he found his way to sleep.

My heart felt like it was imploding at the sight of Azriel in my lap, at his words. Then, I felt a hum in my chest that wouldn’t go away. His shadows wrapped around us as I sat there. It snapped around us, this feeling that was like no other burrowed itself into my chest and made a home there. Mate. Azriel is my mate.

---

Now

At some point I must have fallen unconscious. I opened my swollen eyes to the dark. It must have been the following night. As my senses found their place around me, I realized that there was screaming outside of my tent. The dark was slowly brightening into an orange haze. This was no orange of the sun though; it was brightening too fast.

Fire.

The camp must have been set aflame like they did ours. It was going to burn down while I was tied up inside of it. Panic flooded every ounce of me.

How the fuck do I get out of here?

I had more strength than previously, my healing finally quickening. I thrashed in my restraints, opening more cuts along my wrists and ankles. The soreness of being beaten was nothing compared to the sheer terror that had its grasp on me.

The flame struck the tent and all I could do was stare at it.

---

Before

After the Acheron sisters had joined us in the house there was something different. There was a strange atmosphere around the house. Everyone knew that something was coming.

I tried to continue to pretend like everything was normal. I did my best to try and get Cassian and Azriel in the ring with me like normal, but now, they had different obligations popping up.

Feyre and Rhys we’re busy of course with the sisters. Feyre also needed to train her abilities from all of the high lords.

Mor was gone to the Hewn City so often it was like she no longer resided in Velaris. Even Amern made herself busy.

I was struggling with my newfound mate. I wanted Azriel more than anything, but I was terrified of ruining our centuries long friendship. I also wanted to be loved first, not have love forced upon me because of being mated.

I continued my walk through the House of Wind and found myself at Azriel’s door. I came here often enough in the centuries that I might not even knock, but I found myself doing so.

There was rustling before Azriel opened the door. His hair looked disheveled, and he was sporting a look on his face that immediately made me regret coming to him.

“Hey,” I smiled up at him.

“Hey,” he smiled back down at me.

“I’m sure that you’re busy with tasks from Rhysand and all, but what do you say about blowing that off and going on a run?” I blew out. I was tense, and I needed a distraction and my friend more than all.

“Y/N, I’d love to.” He sighed, his shadows dancing nervously around him, “But, I can’t leave. I have to make sure I keep an eye on Elain.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t the first time since the Acheron sister entered the house that Azriel told me no to because of.

“Oh,” I breathed out, trying to hide any of my disappointment, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.” I smiled up at him anyways before I turned on my heel and walked towards my own room.

The bond in my chest that would usually sing in his presence dimmed as I walked away from him. It left me feeling alone.

---

Now

The fire was all around me. The heat was excruciating. There was no way out of this. The wooden support I was chained to caught; it was only a matter of time before I did too.

I continued to thrash, to try and break free as my hands above me burned. I screamed at the agony in my hands as I forced my arms down again one more time.

The chain came free of the burnt post.

I landed nearly on my face again as I inhaled ash. I tried to catch my breath before looking down. Now just my feet. The pole continued to burn as I trashed until the chain broke around the post.

I still had chains around my wrists, but I was no longer stuck. I took stock of my surroundings. There was a plethora of knifes, swords, and shields in this tent. Surely it must have been the King’s tent before I was strung up.

I couldn’t swing a sword with my wrists tied together, and there was one way I could think of breaking them. I walked toward the flaming post I was tied to and placed the chain and my hands above the licking flames.

I bit my lip from crying out as I let the chains turn red hot. The smell of charred flesh hit my nose amidst the smoke and ash making me gag. My hands were burnt and bubbling, but I could still swing a sword, there was simply no other option. I ripped at the chains as I tore my arms apart. One of the chain-link cracked apart, freeing my hands from being tethered together.

My hands were free, I was free. I set myself into action, I needed to get out if I didn’t want to burn to death. My healing was speeding up. My injuries were still open, but not bleeding. Not tearing themselves back open at the stretching as I moved my body. Though I was still not free of the pain they had caused me.

I grabbed a sword that was next to me and ripped myself free of the tent. There was chaos around me as soldiers tried to put out the flames that were soaring through the camp. It might have been a dark night before this, but the flames were everywhere, it lit everything up.

I took off into a sprint hoping my weakened body could keep up. I prayed that the fire was going to be a good enough distraction that I could keep running until I found true freedom. I screamed in my mind again toward Rhys and Azriel. I could take off into the trees, but them how the hell would I know where to find them.

I took a quick turn to a side of the camp that was not yet lit aflame. I nearly ran into the group of males, but I was able to halt to a stop in time. Breathless, I lifted my sword. My hands were bleeding at their blistered appearance.

“Now, how’d you get out, pretty one?” One of the males snarled at me as he lifted a sword of his own. The group of five surrounded me.

If I wasn’t going to make it out of this fight, they could not have me at all.

---

Before

Azriel finally was able to spend some time with me today. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t excited. We planned on spending it enjoying Velaris. We were going to meet at one of our favorite dining spots. I sat down at a table waiting for Azriel to come. It was strange to me how nervous I was. I tried to keep the humming in my chest to a minimum.

I opened a book from my bag and began to read as I waited. I heard footsteps behind me coming to the table and assumed it was only Azriel.

Then the smell hit my nose, mahogany and vetiver. Asher.

Asher was an old fling. Something that had to be broken off quickly due to his attitude surrounding women and his massive ego. His hand hit my chair, and he pulled me slightly away from the table and facing him.

“Y/N, I didn’t plan on seeing you today.” He quipped, leaving his hand on my chair.

I crossed my legs and set my book on the table, “Surely I didn’t plan on seeing you for, hmm, the rest of my life.”

“Now, don’t say that” he put his face in mine close enough I could smell his breath. “I know you miss us, what we did together.” He whispered into my ear.

His voice sent shivers up my body, and not the good kind. He made me uneasy. He was a male who always got what he wanted, no matter what anyone else would say.

Before I could open my mouth to retort something back, he was ripped from my space. “I suggest you turn around and walk away.” Azriel’s voice sounded deadly as he pushed Asher away by his shirt.

Asher only brushed himself off like Azriel’s touch made him dirty and walked away without another word.

“Thank you,” I sighed out. “I usually can handle myself in these situations, I don’t know what came over me.”

Azriel only took the seat in front of me, and reached over the table to take my hand, “I know you can, but I’m glad I was here for you this time.” He smiled up at me.

---

Now

They’re coming. I heard Rhys’ voice in my head.

I was like a prayer had been answered as I faced down my opponents. In the sky there were streaks of blue and red surrounding the camp. Cass, he was okay. Relief flooded through me, even with my current predicament.

A male’s sword came down on me, I rolled avoiding the attack and sending my sword into another male’s abdomen on the way down. My wounds sung with pain as they hit the ground. The dirt stuck to my blooded injuries. I could only smell the ash surrounding the burning camp.

While I was down, another sword came at my head. This is it. So close to freedom. I covered my face with my molten hand out of instinct.

Then the sword and male were gone. A blade shoved through the male’s chest and he was strewn aside.

Cassian and Azriel hit the ground with a loud thump as Cassian threw the male aside. Their syphons glowed in night, no matter how bright the flames burned. Their faces were also made of igneous steel as they stared down the males.

A sound of relief flooded out of me as I tried to sit up. Cassian and Azriel blew through the remaining soldiers like they were nothing, until it was just my living form on the ground surrounded by the dead.

Tears welled up in my eyes, from the smoke, or the relief I wasn’t sure.

Azriel reached for my hand to yank me from the ground, but I cried out in pain. He let me go, eyes wide, as if I was a snake that just tried striking. I was shaking, my hands were in very bad shape. The skin was blistering away from the flesh, blood oozing from everywhere.

“It’s my hands.” I cried out, he reached for me again, placing a hand on my cheek, taking my elbow in his other. In one swift motion, I was cradled in his arms, and we were in the sky. My entire form was shaking as so many emotions clouded me.

He came back for me. But he also left me there, where I had to ruin my hands to get to freedom.

“Is Cassian okay?” I cried into Azriel’s chest and let him carry me far into the sky.

“You go through days of torture at Hybern’s hand and the first question you ask is if Cassian is okay?” A small smile shown through a Azriel’s face as we flew further from the burning camp. “Let that be some testament to your strength.”

I let some silence settle between us before speaking up again. “I didn’t think you were going to come back.” I almost whispered it. Tears still settled their way onto my face, leaving a trail in the ash the covered my cheeks.

“I’ll always come back for you, Y/N. I’m sorry I left you there in the first place.” He looked down at me. I saw my reflection in his eyes, broken, hurt, covered in ash. I placed my head back onto his chest and continued to let my tears fall.

I was nowhere near forgiving him. Nowhere near telling him he was my mate like I wish I had while being cut up. But there was no time for that right now. Now, I was free, and we were going to war.

---

Taglist: (sorry if I missed anyone, and please let me know if you want to be added for removed from this list).

@saltedcoffeescotch @thirstyroses-world @kingshitonly @topaz125 @spidersfrommars15 @mariahoedt @missromantasy @turkishgirlslife @melmo567 @breadsticks2004 @secret-sheee @sparksandstarss @cleverzonkwombatsludge @vhjlucky13 @kitcat912 @mummzy-chan @helo1281917 @faridathefairy @popcornlauncher

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #azriel angst #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel x you

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pickingupmymercedes · 6 months ago

Text

It was bound to come out - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

Part 2. - A Wolff Cage

request: "Can we get Toto finding out that his daughter is dating Lewis, but in the worst way possible? Maybe he catches them together in a compromising position yk. I love your smuts, so I'll leave it to you" - Anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Wolff!reader

warnings: unprotected sexual activities.

Wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +2K

a/n: My mind ran with this one and everything you asked is there, but with a twist. Hope you enjoy it and sorry for taking a bit ❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

Y/n groaned loudly as the sunlight streamed through a sliver of the blinds, her head pounding and her stomach turning from the aftermath of the night before.

She reached for her phone, squinting at the bright screen in the somewhat dark room.

Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the barrage of missed calls and messages. Her father, had called multiple times, along with Susie and her own mother.

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach as she tried to piece together what could’ve cause all that.

Lewis stirred next to her, yawning and stretching his arms. "Morning, beautiful" he murmured, pulling her closer. Y/n barely registered his warmth, her mind racing as the fog of the night began to clear.

And then it hit her—a wave of cold, hard realization.

She had gone into a fit of bravery. An urge to stop hiding from the world. To shout at all the corners of the world, like a schoolgirl, that she was in love with the one and only Lewis Hamilton. And that he loved her back.

Her eyes darted back to her phone, the messages from her dad glaring at her like an impending doom.

"Oh my god," she muttered, sitting up abruptly. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" Lewis blinked, now fully awake, and sat up beside her.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice still groggy with sleep.

"I've just outed us in the worst possible way!" Y/n exclaimed, her voice a mix of panic and disbelief. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes wide with horror. "I accidentally sent the video to my dad! My dad, Lewis! Toto freaking Wolff!"

Lewis stared at her for a moment, processing her words. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, followed by a chuckle. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm not joking!" she shot back, her voice climbing a few octaves. "Do I look like I'm joking? This is not a joke! My father has seen a video of us... the one video that couldn’t leave my phone!"

Lewis leaned back against the headboard, an amused glint in his eyes. "Well, at least now he knows" he said, shrugging with amusement dancing in his features.

Y/n stared at him, incredulous. "That's your takeaway from this? Lewis, this is a disaster! Why did I do that? And now my dad seen that... and Susie... and my mom!"

Lewis wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side. "Hey, it's going to be okay" he said, trying to soothe her. "It's not the end of the world."

"Not the end of the world?" Y/n echoed, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Lewis, we just went public in the most embarrassing way possible! My dad is going to kill me. No, worse, he's going to kill you!"

Lewis chuckled again, clearly more amused by the situation than she was. "Love, it’s done now. Please breath." he said confidently. "Besides, I think I can handle Toto and from what I know, so can you."

Y/n buried her face in her hands, groaning. "This is so bad. So, so bad."

Lewis gently pulled her hands away, lifting her chin so she looked at him. "Y/n, it's going to be okay," he repeated, his voice soft. "We'll figure this out. And honestly, it was bound to come out eventually. Just, maybe not like this," he admitted with a chuckle, "but still."

Y/n sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I can't believe this is happening," she muttered.

Lewis kissed the top of her head, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It'll be fine," he assured her. "We'll talk to them, explain everything. And who knows, maybe they'll be happy for us."

Y/n gave him a skeptical look. "Yeah, happy that their daughter and one of the most high-profile drivers in F1 decided to announce their relationship via accidental sex video"

Lewis grinned. "Trendsetters," he joked. "They can’t complain we’re not being transparent"

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, despite the situation. "You're a menace" she said, shaking her head and unlocking her phone, finally opening the first few messages, one from Susie catching her eye.

"As much as I’m shocked, I hope those ‘I love you’ were for real. Lewis is always welcomed with us. We’ll deal with your father, don’t worry."

A small, involuntary giggle escaped her lips. In the midst of the chaos at least someone had a sense of humor.

It was raw. As raw as a homemade sex video usually is.

None of their faces was truly visible. But his tattoos, the known birth mark on her back and their voices could be distinguished by anyone.

It started with Y/n adjusting the camera to the side of the scene, Lewis asking her if she was going to make him wait much longer as one of his hands pumped his already rock-hard dick.

He was spread out on a leather coach, wearing only a simple white t-shirt, while Y/n had a black thong and her breasts out for him to catch as she giggled her way back to his lap.

The video focusing as she climbed on him, her back to the camera. Laughs and some talk could be heard coming from them.

One of his hands held her by her waist, bringing her close to him as she leaned down to kiss him, his other hand cupped at her breast. Their moans as they kissed crystal clear in the video.

Then she breaks the kiss, adjusts her legs on top of his as he places her thong to one side of her ass, she reaches for his dick and aligns it to her core. Lewis asks “You good?” and she nods to him.

She drags his length onto her folds a few times and then sinks down, his hand on her waist grasping at her skin, her breathing visibly getting heavier and their moans filling the air.

As Y/n settles down onto Lewis the camera captures the way her back arches, the subtle movements of her muscles under her skin, and the way his hands explore her body with a familiarity that speaks of how intimate their relationship was.

Lewis lets out a low groan, his head tipping back against the couch, some of his loose braids now visible. Y/n starts to move, her hips rocking in a slow, teasing rhythm.

Lewis's hands travel from her waist to her hips, setting a steady pace and guiding her, and she leans forward, her breasts pressing against his chest.

Their breaths are heavy as their movements increase speed.

The sound of skin against skin mixes with their gasps and whispers, turning the video into an erotic symphony.

Lewis murmurs something unintelligible, probably a praise as his voice is husky with desire. Y/n responds with a breathy laugh, her fingers tangling in his scalp as she pulls him into another heated kiss.

As the camera continues to record, Y/n's movements become more urgent, her moans rising in pitch. Lewis's grip on her hips tightens, his own movements becoming more forceful, meeting her thrust for thrust.

Lewis whispers her name and praises time and time again. "Look at you," he groaned at some point, his hands gripping her harder, guiding her movements. "Taking me so well."

Y/n pulls back slightly. She cups his face with one hand, brushing her thumb over his lips before leaning down to kiss him again, softer this time, more tender.

The video captures the moment Lewis’s breath hitch in his throat, Y/n laughs as she adjusts her posture, she scoops his face in her hands and sits on his lap. His dick still fully inside her “I’m nowhere close, Sir.”

Y/n's playful taunt lingered in the air, challenging Lewis with a swing of her hips. He responds with a low chuckle, the sound resonant, vibrating through the video. The camera captured his hands as they slide from her waist to her hips, holding her steady.

"Oh, is that so?" he murmurs, his voice a rich amusement.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he controls his breathing. His lips find the curve of her neck, planting slow, deliberate kisses that make Y/n shiver.

The camera picks up on the subtle shifts in their bodies, showing the intimate dance between them. His hands trace the contours of her body, from the curve of her waist to the swell of her breasts, as he slows the pace, savoring every touch.

With a controlled grace, Lewis lifts Y/n off his lap. He stands, holding her effortlessly, her legs wrapped around his waist, her back arched as she clings to him. He lowers her onto the couch, the leather cool against her skin.

The camera captures the moment she lands, her head just out of frame, leaving only the sight of her body from the shoulders down and him hovering over her.

Lewis kneels in front of her, spreading her legs apart with deliberate care, positioning one leg to the side and the other wide open. The camera zooms in, focusing on her fully exposed core, her arousal glistening in the soft light.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice husky with lust. "So ready for me." His hand glides up her inner thigh, caressing the sensitive skin, his fingers barely grazing her flesh. He teases her clit with the tip of his cock, eliciting a shiver from Y/n.

"Is this what you wanted, love?" he asks, his voice low with seduction. "To be laid out and taken like this? For me to make you beg?" His words are accompanied by the slow, teasing movements of his hips, the head of his cock barely brushing against her entrance.

Y/n's breathing grows ragged, her body arching towards him, desperate for more. "Yeah" she breathes, her voice a soft plea. "Please... I need you."

"You’re so beautiful when you're needy," he whispers, his voice a dark, intimate confession. He watches her, his fingers now tracing circles on her swollen bud. Her moans become louder, her hands gripping the couch cushions as she writhes beneath him.

Lewis leans in, his breath hot against her ear. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he murmurs, his voice a promise. "Every inch of me, love. You're going to remember this."

As her moans continued, Lewis waits for the perfect moment. Her head tilts back, exposing the delicate line of her throat.

In one swift, powerful motion, he thrusts into her, burying himself to the hilt. Y/n gasps hard, her body jerking in response, her back arching off the couch. The camera captures the force of the movement, the way her body reacted and then how she melted around him, her hands flying to clutch at his arms.

"That's it" Lewis growls, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want this." He leans back, his hands gripping her hips as he sets a relentless rhythm.

His thrusts are slow, but deep and powerful, each one punctuated by a low grunt of pleasure from him.

Y/n's moans mix with his, the sound a symphony of pleasure and surrender. She wraps her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back as she meets his thrusts. "Gosh" she gasps, her voice breathless. "Don't stop... please, don't stop."

Lewis leans down, his lips brushing against her ear. "I'm not stopping," he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. "Not until I've made you come, love. Not until I've felt you shatter around me."

He shifts his angle slightly, hitting a spot that makes Y/n cry out, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her body responds instinctively, her hips bucking against him, seeking more.

Lewis's hands slide up her body, one hand cupping her breast, the other tangling in her hair as he pulls her into a heated kiss.

Their kisses are messy, desperate. Y/n pulls back, her head falling back on the couch, her mouth open in a silent cry. "I’m gonna ... I'm so close," she whimpers, her body trembling.

Lewis growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he feels her tightening around him. "Come for me" he demands, his voice a harsh whisper. "I want to feel you, Y/n. Let go for me."

With a final thrust, Y/n's body goes rigid, her body trembling around Lewis. She cried out, her nails raking down his back, her breathing shaken. Lewis follows less than a minute later, Y/n still out of breath as his own orgasm tore through him as he buried himself deep inside her.

Lewis collapsed onto her, his head resting on her chest, his hands still gripping her hips. Y/n wrapping her arms around him, holding him close.

The camera records their quiet afterglow, the only sounds their slowing breaths and the occasional soft murmur. Lewis's hands continued to caress her, soothing and loving.

Lewis lifts his head, looking down at her with a soft smile. "You're incredible" he murmurs, his voice tender. "I love you."

Y/n smiles back, her eyes shining with emotion. "I love you" she whispers, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "Always."

Before the video cuts off to an end, it’s clear when his seed sneaks its way out of her as he lifts her body up a bit so he lies on the coach and brings her back to his chest, his lips coming to rest on top of her head.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123 @strqirlhrts

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis hamilton smut #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

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cautotelic · 2 months ago

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Chapter 1: Tough Love

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seemed?

TWs: past abuse, scars

A/N: this is my first time writing a fic so please let me know what you think of it, most likely this will be a series.

The rough material of the sack on my head rubs uncomfortably against my cheek. Pressed into the floors, my knees ache from what feels like hours of kneeling in the same position. I shift in discomfort and my wrists once again rub against the rope tightly bound around my hands, no doubt already bloody and bruised like the rest of me. The sound of approaching footsteps makes me flinch as they echo in the space. With a precise and calculated gait whomever has entered makes their way from behind me to stand in front of me.

In an instant the sack is pulled from atop my head. The brightness of the room causes my gaze to drop to the marble floor as I blink my eyes into adjusting. My eyes find a pair of boots and my eyes follow the person's body to their face. When I meet her eyes my breathing stops and I tense up immediately, looking down quickly.

“When Remu asked what I wanted in return for promising not to wage war on him, I asked for his best legionnaire. Little did I know,” she chuckles as she looks down at me. “That he would send his own kin.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “Well my father isn’t exactly known for his outstanding morals, now is he?” Glancing up at her, her expression is as solid as rock, but her eyes tell me all I need to know: pity and something else I can’t place… empathy?

“I suppose not…” she says lowly. I see her footsteps approaching before her hand is on my chin, forcing my head up. Her eyes run over my face as she twists her hand from side to side, moving my head with it.

Her thumb gently comes up to touch at a cut on my cheekbone when I jerking my chin from her hand and glaring up at her. “Don’t touch me,” I spit out defiantly.

Her eyebrows lift with shock and her hand hovers where my face once was before she scolds her expression and moves her hands behind her back. With her head raised she exudes power.

“Take her to her quarters. Ensure that she is bathed, fed, and that no one bothers her.” She orders to the guard standing behind me. I watch her walk past me and before exiting the room she pauses. “You will start training after your injuries are healed.”

•••

“You’ve got to be kidding me, I’m not doing this,” I say as I fold my arms over my chest as I look down at the warriors training in the open arena.

“I find it funny you think you have a choice,” the man, Rictus, says from beside me halfheartedly. Despite my situation, he’s one of the only people I tolerate in this place, other than the lady that brings my food every day.

My eyes scan the sweating bodies below. “Ha ha, very funny. I’ve never taught anybody anything before, how exactly am I supposed to do this.” I ask.

He shrugs. “That's up to you but General Ambessa asked for your father's best legionnaire because of how much experience you have in combat, so she trusts you whatever you teach.”

“Well she seems to have a lot of trust in someone she’s only met once in the month I’ve been here,” I quip. In the month that I’ve been in Noxus, I’ve only seen glimpses of the warlord I now know as Ambessa, which is fine with me.

I sigh and begin walking down the stairs that lead to the floor of the arena. I move quietly and fluidly through the groups of people and make my way to the weapons racks on the stone walls. I grab a bamboo staff from the wall before turning around to face the people. Raising the staff into the air, I knock it back and hit the gong hanging from the top of the wall.

The ringing echoes in the large space and easily gets everyone’s attention. With all eyes on me now I clear my throat nervously before moving to the center of the crowd.

“Where I come from is of no importance to you but I am a legionnaire and I was brought here in exchange for Noxus not going to war with my home country,” I say as I pace slowly back and forth.

I hear murmurs of chatter at the mention of my title but continue on. “The first lesson you learn from me is how to disperse a shadow reaper. Shadow reapers are beings of pure darkness that can be summoned by legionaries. These beings are extremely powerful, incredibly agile, and will kill you without hesitation,” I say as I flick my wrist.

Nothing happens at first, but then slowly inky black wisps start seeping from the walls and from under doors to collectively join next to me. From the bottom up a figure appears and I see most of the warriors visibly pale. I smile to myself.

"This is a shadow reaper,” I say as I begin to circle the reaper. “Now, from all my knowledge there's no real way to kill a shadow reaper but you can temporarily get rid of them.”

Taking my staff I side swing it and quickly glide it through the reaper's neck, effectively dismissing it. “Easy but you must remember to hit them directly at their neck or they won’t go away like that.” I say as I come to a complete stop in front of all the warriors. “Who wants to go first?”

•••

After all the soldiers have had a chance to both disperse and spar with a shadow reaper, with almost little to no critique, they were naturals. I sit on the training mats alone, Rictus cleaning up the area and putting the weapons back where they belong on the racks. I use my staff to get up from the ground before looking over towards him. “Spar with me?” I ask.

He laughs and doesn’t turn around to face me as he speaks. “No thank you. The General would kill me if I layed a land on you,” he says matter of factly.

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Well tell your General, that I don’t need her protection…”

“You just did.”

“Did wha-“

“I see you’ve found the energy to train,” I hear a voice say from behind me. “And an attitude.” I turn around and see the General standing at the entrance to the training arena.

I look her up and down noting her casual lounge wear, a stark contrast to her armor that she wore when I last saw her. I hum in response. “Is that a problem?” I ask her defensively.

She chuckles lowly. “Is it? Lest I remind you it is I who determines if you live or die.”

I roll my tongue on the inside of my cheek. “I hate you, I really do,” I say as I go to exit the arena. When I go to pass by her, she grabs my arm firmly but not enough to hurt.

“How have you been sleeping, little one?” I freeze at her words, keeping my eyes forward. “That’s what I thought. Try talking to me again when you finally get some sleep,” she says before releasing my arm roughly. As I make my way out of the room I shove my shoulder against her.

I walk down the gilded corridor. Regal portraits line the walls as I make my way back to my room. The sun is low on the horizon as I close the door to my room. Despite everything, Ambessa has been very generous with my accommodations and I can applaud that. I make my way to the bathroom and turn on the shower before stripping out of my clothes. I close my eyes as the water flows over me, having it turned to the hottest setting.

I start thinking to myself of what I would be doing if I were back home and I cringe at the idea. Since I’ve arrived here I haven’t been able to maintain my regular routine, even my brother's routine beatings have been replaced by me standing in this shower with burning water just to feel something. When the skin of my arm starts to hurt to the touch, I switch off the water and dry myself off.

I throw on a tank top and some loose pants before climbing into bed for yet another sleepless night.

•••

I wake up frantically looking around as I scoot back until my back hits the headboard. My breathing is out of control and I hear screaming and only realize it’s me when someone suddenly enters my room.

“Ma’am are you-“

“Get out!” I yell. No one can see you like this, they’ll think your weak.

“We can help you, just tell us what you need,” the lady, part of the night shift, says.

“I said GET OUT.” I reach my hand over to the nightstand and grab the vase before throwing it towards the door.

The lady quickly shuts the door and the vase shatters as it makes contact with the door. I tuck my knees to my chest and sob, deep, guttural, sobs. I rock myself back and forth as images of my dream come surfacing back. Wire cords lashing against my back. The smell of blood, the taste of my own tears, the silence I had to keep to stay out of more pain.

When morning comes I don’t move. The lady that brings my meals comes and goes, the food going untouched the whole day. As night falls again I finally decide to leave my room. Grabbing my thin shawl from a chair I quietly make my way out of my room. I roamed the hallways for what seems like forever before finally finding where I wanted to be, the kitchen.

I grabbed a pot and began making my favorite dish growing up that my mom used to make for me. As I cook I let my shawl fall to rest at my elbows as my tense shoulders relax. When the food is almost done I give it a quick taste before covering it and letting it simmer for a while longer.

“Well this is a sight to see.” I hear from behind me. I turn around and lean back against the counter and see Ambessa leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with a small smirk on her face. I roll my eyes and say nothing.

“Quiet game again?” She presses with a sigh. “You weren’t at your training today. And while I have been courteous in giving you time to adjust, I won’t tolerate laziness and insolence.”

Her gaze on me causes me to squirm and I readjust my shawl to cover the expanse of my back. This doesn’t go unnoticed by her. “I really must say though, your stubbornness is getting… frustrating.”

I chuckle at this. “Well I grew up knowing that stubbornness can be a survival tactic and I was not in the right headspace today, so forgive me if I needed a moment to myself,” I say as I look at her, really look at her. For the first time since I’ve met her, in the moonlit kitchen, I notice her eyes aren’t just brown but almost hazel. How her scars actually add to the uniqueness of her face. Makes me wonder how she got those scars.

I hear her let out a laugh across from me and I'm snapped out of my thoughts. I said that out loud. I feel my face grow warm but if she notices, she doesn’t comment on it.

“If I tell you one of mine, will you tell me one of yours?” She asks.

I already know which one of mine she’s going to ask about but I still proceed. “Fine.” I agree.

She hums in surprise. “Which one do you want to know about?” I look over her exposed skin and my eyes land on a scar near her neck.

“The one on your neck,” I say softly.

“When I was younger I was challenged for my throne. Big burly man, looked more like a were-person than a man really.” I let out a chuckle at this and her eyes meet mine for a split second before I drop my gaze to the floor. She continues. “Nearly took my head off. Had me pinned to the floor with this big axe against my throat, started cutting in. But clearly I won that fight as I’m still here,” she says.

I nod at this and huff. “Which one do you want to know about?” I ask.

Her eyes scan me up and down as she moves further into the kitchen, not coming incredibly close to me but closer than before, the kitchen island separating us. She comes forward and leans her hands on the counter. “The one on your back.”

I sigh and close my eyes for a minute to gain some composure. “When I was 10, I forgot what it was exactly I did, probably something normal for a child to do, I got in trouble. And my father being the man he is, had to make an example out of me. Since I was a legionnaire I was always in the public eye and so when I got in trouble my father wanted to show our people that this behavior wouldn’t be tolerated. Not even by his own daughter.” Lifting my gaze off the kitchen floor I spare a glance at Ambessa. Her expression conveys nothing about how she’s feeling, but its clear she's hanging on to every word I speak.

I turn my back to her, go back to stirring my food, and start talking again. “He dragged me to the town square, tied my hands to this big pole at the center, and whipped me in front of everyone. All to prove a point.” I say as calmly as I can without my voice shaking. “Twenty lashes across my back, my shirt split open by the third. I can still remember the smell of my own blood, how much of it there was…”

Somehow without me hearing her Ambessa had come up behind me. I didn't realize my hands were shaking until her much bigger ones reached around me and took the wooden spoon out of my hands and placed it down on the counter. I chuckle lightly as I brace my hands against the counter in front of me.

“You know the funny part is after he was finished and I was nearly about to pass out, he told me it was for my own good. That it was my fault…” I say quietly. I feel Ambessa gently place her hand on my upper bicep and I shrug her touch off. “Don’t touch me, I don’t need you pity.” I say as I turn off the stove and move away from her, going to get a bowl.

“From these few interactions that we have had I’ve learned a lot about you,” she says matter of factly.

“I tell you one insignificant part of my life and you think you know me…” I open the cabinet and reach for a bowl. Silently I make the decision to grab two.

“But it isn’t insignificant, is it? Not to you anyway. You think about that moment a lot. Probably flipping it over and over in your mind trying to decide for yourself if you deserved it or not. Am I close?” She challenges as she leans back against the kitchen island.

“Not even close.” I pour the soup into the two bowls.

She hums in acknowledgment. “I doubt that. It can also correlate to your adverse reactions to physical touch. I have two theories for this one: it’s either you just really hate me or-“ she takes the bowl out of my hand before spinning me around to face her. “You just won’t allow yourself to feel something other than pain.”

“The first option,” I respond as I roll my eyes and brace my hands on the counter behind me.

She lets out a laugh at this. “Oh really, because…” she trails off as she leans in close to me. So impossibly close, closer than anyone’s been in a long time. “I think it’s the second.” Her lips nearly brush against the shell on my ear as she speaks to me.

Her hand finds my hand and I flinch from the contact, but she presses on. She runs the pads of her fingers up my arm slowly, tentatively like she’s waiting for me to push her away. Her hand comes up and gently cups my jaw. She looks at me with indifference but her eyes are asking a silent question, I nod my head ever so slightly.

She leans back in and starts to slowly trail feather-like kisses from my jaw to my neck. My eyes flutter shut as I press my lips together. She uses her hand on my jaw to tilt my head to give herself more access. The hand not on my jaw finds its way to my waist as she presses me closer to her. To steady myself I hesitantly place my hands on her chest, her muscles tensing and relaxing under my touch.

When she gently nips as a spot right below my ear I let out a small whimper. I feel her chuckle against my skin. “Breathe, child.”

Her words are what snap me out of my stupor. Using my hands that are on her chest, I push her back roughly. “You let that go on far longer than I thought you would,” she says with that smug ass smirk on her face.

I regain my breathing, rolling my tongue on the inside of my cheek. “Do that again and I’ll kill you,” I hissed as I grabbed the two bowls of soup, shoving one in her hands before putting distance between the two of us. “Eat the soup don’t eat the soup, I don’t fucking care. Leave me alone.”

#ambessa medarda #ambessa league of legends #ambessa medarda x reader #slow burn #arcane ambessa

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elliesspacewalker · 6 months ago

Note

Okay hear me out on this.

Ellie fucking you in her car in parking lot after a fancy family dinner because reader kept teasing ellie during dinner and couldn't wait till they got home👀

cw: 18+ NSFW, trans!Ellie, car sex, semi-public touching, degradation, switch!Ellie, use of y/n like once

"babe" her voice was low and quiet as you move your hands violently close to her crotch, a slight bulge showing through her jeans- you look at her with an innocent face as everyone talks amongst themselves.

"and what about you y/n?" your father turns to you, to be honest, you weren't really paying attention so you give him a confused look. "How's work?" he says, noticing your confusion.

"oh, yeah, it's work alright." you give a sly smile to him.

You move your hand closer to Ellie's bulging erection, her body reacting to your soft touch as it twitches, she leans back in her chair trying not to make it obvious about what's happening.

You all say your goodbyes and Ellie stands up embarrassed, her back slouched over as she moves her jumper to her crotch—trying to make it less obvious.

Both, you and Ellie make your way to the car and she gets in the driver's seat, and looks at you.

"what the fuck was that about?" she asks, obviously embarrassed she got hard during family dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in all of Jackson, you just giggle at her question, and give her a flirty look. "oh, you'll regret that"

She turns the engine on and starts driving, your hand creeping up her thigh again and starting to work on undoing her belt- she puts the left indicator on, and quickly turns the car into a nearby, abandoned car park.

"you want me to fuck you huh? is that what you want?" you look at her and nod "yes, right now"

"backseat" you quickly scramble into the backseat and Ellie gets out the driver's seat, slamming the door shut and opening the backseat door and she grabs your ankles gently, pulling you towards her—you giggle as Ellie pulls down your skirt and panties at the same time, immediately finding comfort between your legs.

Ellie's tongue works wonders on your already swollen clit, lapping over and over. your hands make their way to her hair and gripping tightly, making her groan.

"fuck- taste so fucking good baby" this makes you clench around nothing and Ellie chuckles, the sensation of her laugh sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"Ellie I- 'm close- don't-" you're cut off by a slight pain to your nipple as Ellie twists gently, you moan louder, feeling yourself get closer as Ellie's tongue moves faster. "shut the fuck up- fuck you wanted go get fucked so badly, you slut" you whimper and close your head around Ellie, she groans, her hand holding your right leg so you can't keep clamping down on her, not that she minds it anyways.

your back arches off the car seat as she adds two fingers to your tight pussy "so fucking tight" she adds, this only makes you clamp down more—her fingers girl to hit your g-spot and this does it for you, your eyes roll to the back of your head gently, and your mind gets filled with ecstasy and love. your breathing heavily as Ellie helps you ride out your high on her fingers and tongue.

"please fuck me ellie, I wanna feel you inside me" she smiles at you, lifting herself into the car and on top of you "technically I was just inside of yo-"

"ELLIE!" she chuckles, "always, baby" she unzips her jeans and pulls her boxers and jeans down to her knees, she holds herself up with her right arm, grabbing her dick and teasing your folds before slowly pushing in, her toes scrunch in her beat up converses, her moan intoxicating.

Sometimes you forget about the stamina she has gotten over the years of fucking you in every possible position she can, she keeps up the same pace as you move your hand down to your clit and rub slowly.

"s-so fucking good s-shit" she whimpers out, feeling you clench more and more around her hard dick, you move your other free hand up to her neck and gently squeeze which just about sends Ellie on edge, her panting getting more intense.

"you like this pussy baby?" you say quietly and Ellie nods, kissing your neck gently nipping and suckling, you moan loudly when she hits the spot that sends you on edge "ellllie" you whine out, "I know, I know" your legs tremble, you move them around her waist to let her get as deep as she possibly can, your hand moves from your clit to her back as you start digging your nails into her back, she groans from the pain but speeds up.

"Ellie, shit, ellie. I'm gonna cum" you moan out, your pussy clenching on her dick as you lose yourself under her, "shit!" Ellie groans out, her abs contracting as she cums, her body tensing and then relaxing as she slows her breathing down. she looks down at you and smiles, she kisses your neck once more before getting up and quickly pulling her pants up, hoping no one saw or heard.

You scramble into the front seat and Ellie makes her way into the front seat covered in sweat, as soon as you smile at her, your phone rings.

you answer it with a simple "hello?"

"hey, where are you guys? you said you'd be here in 10, it's been 30 minutes" your dad asks through the speaker, slightly worried about your whereabouts. Ellie blushes as you come up with a dumb excuse.

"should've let him hear you moaning my name"

"whore" you tease, "only for you"

Woah, twice in one day?!

#ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #transgender ellie #the last of us #ellie the last of us #trans!ellie #ellie williams #ellie x you #tlou2 #elliewilliams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x y/n

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chrolloluvr · 9 months ago

Note

Hi, happy to see you back❤. I remember in one of your previous works, you mentioned Mammon possibly would babytrap reader. May you please write something on this topic?

♡ Toxic!Mammon: Babytrapping Hcs ♡

Note: Ty! Also she is referring to this post. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REQUESTS!!! KEEP THEM COMING POOKIES! ALSO IK I HAVENT MADE AN ACTUAL POST IN A WHILE SO HERE YALL GO

Female!reader, AFAB

Warnings: NSFW, toxic themes, creampie, future child, exploiting

He will babytrap you, 100%

As I have said before, Mammon likes the idea of having complete control over you, your life, and everything you do. And what better of a way to do that than making you bear his child?

He gets this magical, invasive idea when talking to one of his work buddies. He was talking about how annoying you were, even though he cannot live without you, when his co-worker mentions how much responsibility and care a woman has for her children. And the idea hits him. If you are just going to sit around lazily all day like a spoiled brat, why not add a child into the mix?

So he will have you prowled up against his chest, his cock basically stuffing you full, as he pistons in and out of your already sore pussy. Seemingly out of nowhere, telling you

"You'd be such a good mother, wouldn't you babe."

"'Wanna see you swoll with my kids, wouldn't that be somethin'-"

Which makes you feel physically ill. Raising a child with Mamm would be basically impossible. You would never raise a child with this man. Would he support you? Would he genuinley care for your baby? Oh Satan, would he even care-

Your thoughts are abrupted as Mammon stuffs you with his seed, finishing inside yours walls and painting them with a loud groan. He gives your ass a harsh slap, as he watches his cum spilling out of you. He looks you in the eyes, and gives you a daunty chuckle. He forces you to look up at him with your tired, exhausted eyes, as he tells you ohoho babe, we aren't finished until i'm done, alright?.

And he keeps that promise, with the goal of getting you pregnant. He knows the public would go feral. The King of Greed? With a child? It gives him a publicity boost, which in turn, is good for his business, and his image.

Once you find out you are pregnant, you have to eventually tell Mammon, to your dismay. Every day, he makes you take an on brand pregnancy test as he watches. He will hold the test while you pee. Yes you heard me right. So when the test says positive one day, he is over the moon. Not at the fact that he is going to be a father, but at the fact that he is now in complete control over you, and that he can use another part of you as a pawn in his twisted fantasy.

The paparazzi have a field day over this news, because he ends up almost immediately making an announcement. There are headlines, candid photos of you going forcefully outside by mammon, etc. Its like a never ending nightmare. And dont be mistaken, he would never let you out of his sights, or get an abortion. He thinks this is too good of an opportunity.

Behind closed doors, he will actually treat you very well. Feeding you, paying attention to your every need, and not letting you lift a finger. He may even go out of his way to find some stuff by himself at the store. He'll will make you go outside with him. But at times he has to do a meeting, or host an event, he will have his goons escort you places, making sure you go public routes, to get a really good look at your swollen belly.

Brings you to meetings during this time, and picking your outfits carefully. He cant have his darling wearing any disgusting maternity clothes. So he will have you perches on his lap while he sits in his seat, embarrassment eating you whole as you see the sins/overlords snickering and bickering presumably at you. He has one hand rubbing your round belly, and one hand rubbing your shoulders as Mammon discusses his newest buisness plan.

He would create a Mammon Baby Care line. He knows he will profit off your pregnancy

"Alright fellas, so i was thinking for the ladys, a Mammon breast pump, hm? Its great right? Oh! And Mammon themed bibs, ha! Sure to make me a bunch, right babes?"

People think, how could you let Mammon knock you up? Of course, millions of girls idolize Mammon, and would want to be with him. But sometimes it feels like you are the only one who is infatuated with him. So you will try to look past the fact that he got you pregnant. You'll just try to be hopeful. But it is literally impossible with the way he keeps sweet talking you, as you snap back into the sad reality that you will be having Mammons child, and raising it. No questions to be asked.

He will lead you to subconsciously feel insecure about you and your body. He will squeeze your newly chubby cheeks, glaze his fingers over your stretch marks newly littering your body, etc. And he definitely does that on purpose.

As you reach up to the half full Nutella jar in the high cabinet in the kitchen, you hear a pair of loud footsteps coming behind you. Its Mammon. You try your best to ignore him, but you cant help but feel uneasy when you feel a pair of familiar eyes on you. It is currently 1:30 AM, and he is in a really tired mood.

"You need help sweets?"

He said with a suckle voice, knowing its affects on you are vast. He looks you up and down, admiring your perfect body in his mind. Your curves, belly, and the look your giving him. It makes him want to just bend you over and fuck your brains out likes theres no tomorrow. But he cant, he just has to be extra agile with you.

"Mamm..."

"Yeah?"

"Do I look fat?"

Ohhh boy. The question you always ask when you feel like he's eyeing you up. he hates when you ask that, because then he has to make up some half assed excuse to why he's looking at you a certain way. When your pregnant, he basically has to walk on eggshells around you.

"You... look like your carrying my child, and I like the sight of that."

"Okay, do you love me?"

He pauses. One wrong answer, and you'll refuse to talk to him for weeks. You two, as of your relationship, are in a really good spot right now. You will basically do anything for him. But you are really sensitive emotionally and physically, due to your hormones.

As he walks up behind you, he lifts you up by your waist, and hold you up to the cabinet, letting you reach.

"Y/N."

He says in a low, gruff voice.

"Yeah Mamm?"

"What the hell kind of question is that. Of course I love you."

He says as you look at him, face to face. You watch his eyes never leave yours, which makes you break off eye contact in a flustered state. You then realize that he is holding you, which makes you feel insecure.

"Okay, I love you too Mamm"

"Alright, now get your sweet treat, and get the fuck to bed, and hurry up. We've got a busy day tomorrow sweets."

He sets you down, and leaves the kitchen, leaving you with yourself, your Nutella and a spoon in hand. You look down at yourself, and your huge stomach. You wonder how you got yourself into this twisted predicament. You mostly worry about your baby's future as Mammons child. Because you are aware that Mammon will only use them for his own monetary gain. You cannot escape this man, even if you try. But you can always pretend you have your own free will, and you could always just eat your silly thoughts away, as Mammon always told you.

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ellieslittlewh0re · 2 years ago

Text

THE BET - Ellie Williams x fem! reader

wk - 1.3k

summary - cockwarming ellie’s strap (this is literally just p0rn lol)

additional tags - established relationship, SMUT, strap-on usage, crying (not the bad kind), porn w/ no plot, e! Is rough but not too rough, some aftercare and fluff :3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Ellie sat on the couch, manspreading and completely relaxed with her body movements, but her eyes told a different story... dark and her lips slightly parted as her breathing picked up. She was beyond horny, aching to touch you. How could she not? You were straddling her legs, your hands on her shoulders to keep you from completely going limp on her. Her cock was deep inside your dripping cunt, pressed against the spot that made you go fucking crazy.

How did you get in this situation?

Well, you and Ellie made a bet, how long could you two go like this before one of you gave in. It's been all of two days since the last time you saw your girlfriend, but it was 2 days too long and when she came over, the heated tension almost immediately gave you away. You ached for her, your body craved her.

"Just give in, baby. Lemme take care of that pussy." Ellie said with a teasing voice, pushing her hips up ever so slightly which caused you to yelp.

Your head falls to the crook of her neck, panting into it, your hips staring to go numb from your compromising position.

"M-m' not gonna... lose." You barely make out, head to fucking dumb on her cock.

Her hand squeezed the fat of your ass, pulling at it to split you open further, causing her strap to slip in, reaching deeper.

You whimper, looking at her with dazed eyes, a furrow between your brows and a pout on your puffy lips, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes.

"E-els... please, fuck me."

As much as Ellie loved to see you so needy and desperate for her, she could only take so much.

"Up." She demanded, slapping your ass to get you to move fucking faster.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, slowly lifting yourself off of her and wince at the sensation of your now empty pussy.

Before you could comprehend what was happening, she was dragging you into the bedroom, slick dripping down your thighs with only a over sized t-shirt (that was Ellie's of course) barely covering your ass.

"Get on all fours." She points to the bed in a rush, quickly shutting the door in case one of your family members were to come home.

You hesitantly do as your told, crawling on the bed with your ass facing her. The cold air of the a/c hitting your wetness, made you shudder, goosebumps rising on your skin. You felt exposed to say the least, everything on display for your girlfriends viewing pleasure.

"Fuck baby, the shit I do for you." Ellie said almost to herself, too entranced by your glistening folds that was pressed so prettily together between your thighs.

A high pitched moan emits from your lips as her fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your slick to your ass which she squeezed harshly, letting the fat spill between her fingers.

She stood behind you, holding you in place as the tip of her cock bounced against your pulsing clit. You rock your hips, grinding them against her crotch, the base of her strap digging harder into her own sopping pussy.

"So needy- you want my cock that bad, baby?" She growled, looking down at your back, how it arched and twisted, desperate for some friction- how ready you were for her.

"Mmhm-" you bite down on your lip, pressing your ass harder against her, and that was enough to get what you wanted.

Her hands wrapped firmly around your hips right where they crease into your thighs, her fingers digging into the flesh. Her cock wedged between your legs, thrusting back and forth between your slippery heat, coating it again with your pre release.

"F-fuuck, Ellie.." you whine, frustration in your voice because it wasn't enough, and Ellie knew that. If she was going to lose this bet, she was going to have fun with it.

"What baby, use your words pretty girl." She coos, a hint of malice in her voice as she leans over you, placing a kiss to the back of your shoulder, her hand reaching around to palm your breast.

Your squirm under her, your head hanging low between your shoulders, on the brink of sobs from how frustrated you were, desperate for this aching feeling in your tummy to go away.

"I-inside... I want your cock inside, els.. please." You begged.

Ellie smirked into your bare shoulder, a satisfaction she got from your confession gave her a power trip that only you could do to her.

She lifted from your back, her hand holding the base of her cock, lining it up to your entrance. Ellie loved this view, your ass up in the air, the way your contorted under her touch. She also loved how exposed you were and she wasn't, still fully clothed, just the waistband of her sweatpants tugged slightly downwards to make room for her strap.

She pressed the tip of her cock inside your pussy, slowly deepening it as you let out a sigh of relief mixed with a moan of pleasure, finally full of her- just how you liked it.

She doesn't give you much time to adjust to the feeling inside, picking up her pace and slamming into your hole. She was relentless, her fingertips bruising your hips as she ground herself deeper inside you.

You cry, tearing fully dripping from your cheeks and onto the soft pink bedding below, sharp high pitched whines reverberated in your throat, jaw slacked and head empty.

You physically couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your face smushed against the tear soaked pillow, letting her use you like a toy.

"Yeah.. that's right baby, take it.. atta girl." Ellie praised through clenched teeth, quickening her pace on your abused pussy.

You babble and scream, chanting her name like it was a prayer, a confession of your sins perhaps.

Ellie fully rests her body on top of yours, one hand tugging harshly at your nipple, rolling the hardened peak and pulling at it while the other hand reached for your clit, rubbing tight circles which just made you cry out louder. It was all too much, you felt your climax creeping up quickly, your stomach tightened as you clench around her, half-hooded eyes, and panting like a bitch in heat.

"M' gonna cum- els.. I'm gonna-" You cry out, stuttering with each snap of her hips.

"Be a good girl, come fr' me baby." She breathed into the back of your neck, suckling the salt stained skin while her fingers quickened on your clit.

Your mutter curses, your fists tighten on the sheets as you come undone around her, your slick gushing around the base of her cock. She slows her pace, working you through your orgasm to insure you were thoroughly fucked out.

She litters soft kisses to your back before standing up and carefully slipped out of your abused cunt.

You fully collapse on the bed, laying on your stomach with your head tucked on the pillow.

Ellie tucks her strap back into her pants, not bothering to take it off completely, too busy wanting to soothe you and make sure you were okay.

She laid beside you, her hand rubbing your lower back in circular motions. You turn to face her, cheek squished against the pillow, eyes and lips red and puffy. You smile sleepily at her, her hand came up to run fingers though your hair, ridding them from your face.

"I win." You say in a hushed voice, closing your eyes as she continued the movements on your head.

She chuckled as she observed you; her adoring girlfriend, picturing what it would be like to wake up beside you everyday for the rest of their lives, coming home to you and what you'd look like pregnant with her child.

"You win pretty girl- now get some rest. You'll need it for round 2."

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meownotgood · 2 years ago

Text

quiet dream. / dan heng x reader, 18+, smut, reader is fem bodied, grinding, thigh-fucking, fingering, creampie, soft dan heng, reader is super needy, dan heng offers to help when you can't sleep. word count: 4.7k

You can't sleep.

It's a realization you've slowly come to after waking up in the middle of the night several times in a row, but it really starts to hit you like a truck after the fourth. This time, you don't even bother to try and close your eyes again. You just sigh, twist onto your back, and stare begrudgingly at the shadows on the ceiling.

You want to get some rest, you really do. You know you're going to need it. You can't let exhaustion affect your performance on such a difficult and important mission. But no matter how hard you try, it's damn near impossible to sleep when every time you start to drift off, you get interrupted by dark visions and terrible nightmares and loud voices you don't recognize echoing inside your head.

It's been plaguing you ever since you first set foot in Belobog. You were almost starting to think you were losing it. Perhaps this hotel is cursed. Or maybe not, since none of your comrades seem to be suffering from the same fate.

You stumbled out of your room and saw your teammates already waiting for you in the hall. March chuckles and tells you she had a nice dream about making snow angels with Pom Pom. Dan Heng doesn't look up from his phone as he answers, I didn't have any dreams.

So it's just you.

At this point, you've tried absolutely everything — you've made yourself comfortable in every position you can think of, you've got up and paced around hoping it'd relieve some of your energy, you've tossed and turned and yet still, nothing has helped. No, no, you can't take this, you have to do something. When your missions are only getting more and more difficult, you're going to need all the energy you can get. You can't go another night without sleeping.

Your brain spins with ideas of possible solutions. You can't get any medicine, it's way past the time for any stores to be open. Can't get any food or something to drink either. You don't feel like bothering March 7th, she'll just babble on and on and keep you up even further. Sitting here alone in silence though, with nothing but the idle hum of the passing train cars to keep you company does nothing but make your insomnia worse.

When it comes down to it, there's only one last idea you can think of.

You fling the covers away from your face and sit up to plant both your feet on the ground. You open the door to your room as slowly as you can to keep it from creaking, and you carefully make your way down the hall, rounding the corner, to the first room on your left. Sucking in a nervous breath, you raise your knuckle and knock, but when there's no response after a few seconds, you twist the doorknob and invite yourself inside.

The blankets shuffle and Dan Heng lifts his head immediately, hair messy and eyes squinted as they adjust to the sudden flood of light. He seems to relax, tense shoulders slumping once he realizes it's only you.

"What happened?" His voice is rough and laced with tiredness, but he's sitting up further, and he's getting right to the point, "Are you okay?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Relax." You raise your hands defensively and gently close the door behind you with your heel. It clicks shut. "I can't sleep, so I figured I'd stay with you for a bit. If that's okay."

Dan Heng eyes you up and down, considering, before he flops back onto the bed with a quiet sigh, the mattress bouncing from the sudden weight.

"Sorry, I'll leave if you want me to."

"No," He retorts sternly, shaking his head, his response catching you a little off guard. Is he really okay with this?

Much to your surprise, he continues, "It's fine, I understand. Here." Then, he shifts, turning over and onto his side to make some space next to him. "You can sleep with me if you think it'll help."

Quickly, without giving him a chance to change his mind, you make your way over, and Dan Heng lifts the covers so you can crawl in. You aren't used to seeing him like this; his hair all ruffled, his clothes casual, just a blank t-shirt and sweats. When you settle in and he leans his head onto the fluffy white pillow, you swear you catch him trying to stifle a yawn.

Honestly, you really didn't expect him to let you in so easily, either. You haven't known him for very long, but you're somewhat familiar with each other, to the point you'd consider him your friend, but Dan Heng's a private sort of person. He's a bit stiff, a bit hard to talk with — You like him, you really do. You like those parts of him. You like the way he's serious and smart and strong, how he's much kinder than he appears.

You like the way his nose scrunches when he's focused on something. You like how he cares for you awkwardly but earnestly, slipping his jacket off of his arms and draping it over your shoulders when you first arrived to Jarilo-VI and said you felt cold. He cleared his throat and glanced away, muttering something half-hearted like, Just thank me later.

The thing is, despite all that, despite everything he's done for you, you can't seem to figure out the way he feels. Dan Heng is the most impossible person you think has ever existed.

And right now, even though he's invited you to come lay next to him, you still can't decide, and your brain is a little too scrambled to really start thinking about it.

He's already shut his eyes again, his face is close, wisps of dark hair messy. His chest rises and falls, up and down.

"Did I wake you up?"

He cracks his eyes back open when he hears you speak once more.

"Yes." Dan Heng answers bluntly, and if you weren't feeling so shitty right now you might've just chuckled.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." The smallest specs of golden light cast from the street lamps outside reflect in his gaze. "I wasn't upset. I'm more concerned about you. Why can't you sleep?"

"Mmm," You look away, shrugging your shoulders, "Bad dreams."

"Nightmares, huh?"

Yeah, he'd surely know a thing or two about that. Though, strangely, he hasn't had any bad dreams since arriving in Belobog. Maybe it's because the plush hotel beds are way comfier than his little setup on the Astral Express, he figures.

The exhaustion in your tone doesn't lie: "They've been happening ever since we got here. And it's not a regular thing, it's the first time I've had so many dreams like this and… they're relentless."

If the room was a little less dim, and if you were paying just a little more attention, you might have caught the way Dan Heng's expression starts to soften.

"I'm sorry. I wonder if there's a reason for it. Something with the environment here." He says. You let your eyes close at the sound of his voice. "I'll check the data bank tomorrow. I researched Jarilo-VI thoroughly before we came here, and I don't remember anything like that in any of the submissions, but… I suppose I might've missed it."

You snuggle into the pillow, your body feels warm and light; Dan Heng's presence alone provides you with comfort, and you're already starting to drift off. You silently hope to yourself that this will be the last time, and then you murmur in response, "Dunno. I'm tired, you can tell me about it later."

"Right." Dan Heng answers. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Dan Heng is losing his mind.

When you first stumbled into his room, he didn't think anything of it. He knows how difficult nightmares can be, especially the ones that seem to be affecting you. Until now, he's never seen you so troubled. He doesn't have a problem keeping you company — you'd do the same for him, and he knows that.

The first time, you managed to drift off for an hour or so. He stayed awake for a while to watch over you, and when you ended up waking up from another bad dream, Dan Heng slung an arm around you, he rubbed your back with his palm and tried to mutter something into your ear to help you fall asleep: some boring story he learned from the archives.

But you were quick to wake again. And again, and again. Nothing worked, trying his best to help you has only served to make him just as restless as you are, and right now you, you're just —

"Dan Heng, please."

You say his name in a voice so pleading, so sweet and sugary it takes nearly everything he has to struggle to resist. A warm blaze of heat rushes to every corner of his face, his breath is hot and thick, the slightest bit shaky when it fans over the expanse of your neck. In your tossing and turning, you've chosen to face away from him now, with your back pressed deft to his chest. Dan Heng wonders how strongly you can feel the thudding of his heart.

The proximity alone is enough to get his heart pounding — you're so warm, so close, he can't take it — but each and every word you say makes it so much worse, and you keep shifting back, you keep pressing into him and you just have to know what you're doing.

"You're still awake."

Dan Heng breathes the words into your ear, his voice as still as he can get it. Matter-of-fact, just an observation. Not acknowledging anything but not ignoring you either. Exactly as you'd expect him to respond.

Softly, barely audible, you grumble back a simple response: "Yeah."

"Get some rest."

You back up into him a bit more, your ass rubs against his groin, right there; you both sigh in unison, yours of relief, his more like exasperation.

Dan Heng grips you hard, fingers curled into your side. "Stop it."

"I can't, I can't fall asleep like this. You're so stubborn." You huff, and you sound honest with that, you're seemingly breathless already.

It's half his fault this is happening. He'll take some of the blame. Perhaps he shouldn't have held you so close earlier. When your breathing got faster, when you hugged him tighter, maybe it was wrong of him to let his lips ghost over your neck, or his palms drift over your thighs.

He wasn't trying to take things this far, he's never had any bad intentions. He's the one in the wrong for getting carried away. You were just so close, and Dan Heng hasn't been able to stop his heart from pounding for hours now.

It wouldn't be the first time he's thought more with his heart than his brain. Stupid.

He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."

He's realizing he's weaker than he thought he was, he's more obvious about his feelings for you than he intended. He has to be stubborn, but he's already failed, because you've gone and found him out. Now, you know.

You know, because you're gripping his arm with an urgency, you're twisting around and forcing him to meet your desperate eyes while your free hand finds and fiddles with the loose drawstrings of his sweatpants.

Dan Heng, please fuck me.

God, how can you say that without even hesitating? His head is spinning. He feels dizzy, he feels like this isn't really happening.

"You're- that's enough." He presses his hand to your shoulder and shoves, but clearly with no force behind it. You don't budge.

"How many more times?" Your warm fingers are working their way under the hem of his pants now, teasing his bare skin ever-so slightly, "How many more times do I have to ask?"

How much longer, because you know he's going to give in.

"I-" Dan Heng looks away, anywhere but where you're staring at him. He breathes a long, heavy sigh out from his mouth. There's an ache in his chest he can't possibly shake, and an even harder throb between his legs.

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. You don't have protection. You're not even dating.

One hand twists up to hold the back of his neck, and when the other brushes down to squeeze the bulge of his stiffening cock through his sweats, Dan Heng starts to forget about all the things he'd better not do.

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, and with eyes half-open, he looks towards you again, finally. "You think it'll help you sleep?"

You nod, "Mhmm."

"And you're okay with that? This is really what you want?"

"Yes, it is, I'm sure," You say, you're starting to tug his sweats from his hips and his breath is hitching and stuttering in his throat, "I can't wait any longer. I need you."

Dan Heng gives himself just one more moment to attempt to compose himself. Your thumbs brush the space just underneath his hip bones, and he takes an unconvincing deep breath in. Then, he's placing his hand on your chest and gently pushing you back; the hotel bed creaks, the mattress shifts and the sheets rustle as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"Need is a strong word," Fingers grasped around the hem, he makes quick work of shedding his t-shirt. The crisp night air is colder than he thought. The dim light casts most of his face in shadow. "What's got you like this?"

"You want it with me just as badly, don't you?"

You've dodged the question. But you aren't wrong.

"Just this once." Dan Heng affirms, "We won't bring it up again."

One time. That'll be enough. If he's lucky, you'll save him the embarrassment and remember this as just another dream.

When it comes to you, he's just too weak.

"Dan Heng-"

There it is again, you're saying his name in a tone reserved just for him — Dan Heng gasps, he fucks up into you a little harder, he rams right into your sweet spot and you grasp his forearm to steady yourself, his muscles firm when you squeeze. The sound of skin against skin along with the rhythmic creak of the bed echo around the walls of the small hotel room. Arm wrapped around your stomach, you're on your side, and his body curls around yours, his head leant on your shoulder, hand tightly gripping the fat of your thigh.

Sweat coats his skin, his head feels hazy, thoughts dreamy. By now, he's come to lose any semblance of lucidity he once had, any hope of not taking things any further. But when he's buried all the way inside you, he's hardly even come to realize.

His voice feels sore and tired, but he still manages to mumble into your ear, "Say it again."

And you do, you say his name once more, twice more. Dan Heng fucks his cock right into that perfect spot for the hundredth time and you're cooing each syllable for him even louder.

"S-Shit, you-" He interrupts himself with a gasp for breath, "You feel so amazing, I'm- I can't," He never sounds like this, so needy and awestruck. A soft moan uttered right into the nape of your neck, then, "I'm gonna cum again."

Your fingers clench the sheets tighter, your breath comes out in short pants, "Wanna hear you say my name too, Dan Heng-"

His arms are shaking, and once he teeters over the edge he's practically biting down on your shoulder to keep himself from getting too loud; he focuses less on hitting the right spot and more on getting off, his thrusts into you become sloppy and clumsy and erratic. As he cums, chanting your name with each fragile breath, he just barely manages to find a moment of clarity, slipping out to fist his cock and empty all over the sheets.

His heart thuds incessantly in his ears, drowning out everything else. He's gasping, wiping his hand off on the sheet, resting his forehead onto your shoulder and swallowing to keep his throat from drying up.

"You alright?" Of course, your well-being is the first thing Dan Heng is concerned about.

"I'm fine," You answer immediately.

Dan Heng stays quiet for a few agonizingly long seconds. Slowly, he guides his half-hard cock to your thighs, he slides it in between them and feels it start to throb and pulse with need again once you squirm, adjusting to give him more room to work with.

Warm, you're so warm, he closes his eyes and thrusts forwards and he's already thinking about how it's going to feel so much better when he puts it back inside you.

"Sorry, what am I doing?" Dan Heng suddenly freezes, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He's absolutely losing his mind. "I'll stop. I'll stop if you want me to."

"Don't," You reply, and he finds it difficult to object, "I want to keep going, come here."

You're twisting around then, pulling away from him and shifting onto your back, splaying your arms above your head and blinking away whatever exhaustion is starting to form behind your eyelids. Dan Heng is quick to follow suit, settling into his familiar spot on top of you.

He raises his hand, and he lets his knuckles brush tenderly over the side of your cheek. "You sure? You're still not tired?"

Your response comes in the form of a hasty shake of your head and an eager grab of his arm.

It's been like this for hours now. Dan Heng gives you what you want, you're satisfied for a bit until you beg and coax him into giving you more. The faintest hints of sunlight are starting to creep past the curtains now, and as much as Dan Heng is trying to hold on to his sanity as best as he can, he's really starting to think he's past the point of no return.

How is he supposed to face you tomorrow? Hell, tomorrow is already practically here, and yet he still can't stop.

He keeps telling himself the two of you need to calm down — but as you're gripping his hand, as you're pressing his fingertips over your swollen clit, dragging them down and getting them nice and wet on your arousal, his heart is once again caught in his throat and all he can do is listen.

Dan Heng's whole body shivers. He gives you exactly what you want; he sinks his fingers into you knuckle-deep, he pumps them in and out to a slow and careful rhythm, slick sounds ringing in his ears.

"Dan-"

He quirks his fingers up and presses them right where they belong, and you can't manage to get out the other half of his name.

"More?" Like he already knows what you're going to say, he pulls his fingers out before he even sees you nod, just like that.

His palms find your waist, he holds you with shaking hands as if you're delicate. Shiny, wet precum is already budding at his slit, and he aligns his hips to press the needy tip of his dick to your entrance. His bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as he's sliding in, just barely, stretching you with just the fat tip of his cock; the rest of him aches, his eyelids flutter and he groans, he can't move. He can't, or he already won't last.

Please, Dan Heng. Put it in all the way.

You're greedy, so ridiculously insatiable. He doesn't blame you though. He can't.

Here you are, always so kind to him, always asking so nicely. Always saying please, always loyal, always sticking by his side. Begging for him, all for him. He'd be stupid not to give you everything — everything you ask for, and every last second in the stretch of this infinite universe.

Because you're special to him. You mean more to him than he'd ever be able to admit. And after being cooped up in the Astral Express for so long, after so much running and running and never finding his place, after never having time for anything like this and never realizing how badly he needed it, he knows he's even worse.

It fits in so easy when he finally slides all the way in, like he was meant to be there. He stays still at first, taking deep breaths, getting used to the feeling. He's sensitive, way too sensitive. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on you. He rolls his shoulders backwards, waits for the moment you start to impatiently squirm. And then, he pulls back only to press all the way in; he starts up a gentle rhythm, taking things slow, fucking you nice and softly.

Even just his shallow thrusts feel heavenly. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, you're warm all over from head to toe. You're a second away from choking out a plea for him to go harder, but Dan Heng seems to read your mind before you've spoken a single word.

You're pretty when you're underneath him, pretty face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his. It's a pretty sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

You've always been pretty in his eyes. But more than anything, he wants to see how pretty you'll look when he makes you fall apart.

"You're getting loud," He mumbles, in that matter-of-fact way you've come to expect. He doesn't slow down though, doesn't give you a moment to breathe; he squeezes your thighs and rubs them with his palms. "If we keep going like this- they'll hear. You know that?"

"Don't care," You can barely get out the words, your back takes on a tell-tale arch, "Let them. Just don't stop."

Dan Heng isn't sure how thin these walls are. But in hindsight, it might be too late. The thought makes him feel dirty. He should have considered quieting down a long time ago.

Forehead to forehead with you, his pace speeds up a little, a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. His hair is a thick, tangled mess, even messier when you reach up to run your fingers through; you grasp and tug, sending waves down his spine, and Dan Heng can't help but whimper. He bucks into you hard, desperately, and you can't do anything but claw at his back, leaving scrapes and marks of red.

He's panting, his face is inches away from yours; he can't take it anymore. He starts with a single quiet please, and when you cup his cheek in your hand he's sighing and stammering without even thinking, "Please I- please kiss me, please please please-"

You pull him closer, he tilts his head and you shut him up as your lips connect for the first time tonight — Dan Heng kisses you softly, his lips plush, his heart flutters and flips. His first kiss with you, and it's so much more desperate than he expected, but he needs this too badly to take things slow. Your lips part and he's groaning, licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

He takes the opportunity to grab your thigh, tossing your leg over his shoulder to give himself a better angle. He pistons in and out at a steady pace until you're about to snap, until everything else is melting away and you're focused on nothing but him. Until he gets carried away, the tip of his cock shoves in too deep, and you're tossing your head back, crying so loudly you're certain someone would hear. He feels so good you can't bother to care.

"M'close," You're mumbling once he gives you a moment to breathe, dragging away from your lips to plant wet kisses onto your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Your fingertips drag along his back, you feel out the shape of his mismatched scars — you're whining even louder, begging for him to make you cum, and Dan Heng is really, really done for.

He's thought himself to be somewhat of a strong person. Someone with a good resolve. Tonight, you're making him rethink everything.

He's close too, movements getting sloppy, it's growing harder and harder for him to hold back how you make him feel. He's never felt like this, never been so desperate. Dan Heng's fingers twitch, he moans and wraps an arm around your back securely. He rests his head in your nape and sighs, breath warm and heavy on your skin.

"I-" He hesitates, because even now, even after all this, he's nervous to speak; his chest heaves, his whole body's trembling. "I want to cum with you."

"Don't pull out, please Dan Heng, it feels so good, you're making me feel so good-"

He shouldn't listen to you. But he will. And he won't even think twice.

"Gonna cum," His shoulders tense, his voice nearly breaks, "F-Fuck, you're so sweet, I'm-" A stuttery whine, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming…"

A few more sloppy thrusts and you're both done for. Wet sounds fill your ears, Dan Heng reaches up with an unsteady hand and grips the headboard to keep himself steady. When you cum, clenching hard and throbbing around his cock, chanting his name just as he hoped you would, Dan Heng has little pent-up tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he hastily covers your mouth with his free hand, your noises muffled on his palm. He's riding his high out with you and fucking you through it all, biting hard on his bottom lip to stay quiet, shamelessly spilling every drop of his spend inside.

It takes a while for him to finally slow down, for his vision to unblur. He nearly collapses on top of you, and it takes him even longer to work up the strength to pull out.

The early-morning sun shines even brighter through the curtains. His fingers slip over your cheek, they fiddle idly with your ear. He kisses your lips once before finally settling, rolling over next to you with his eyes already closed.

"Dan Heng."

He was hoping you'd managed to fall asleep, finally. He gives himself a second to regain some energy, and then with a huff, he lifts his head and props himself up on his elbows, meeting your eyes.

"I don't want this to end."

Your words catch him by surprise. Your genuine expression does even more so.

"It won't," He concludes, earnest as ever. Your hands are splayed out above your head, clenching and unclenching, and he grips one to give you something to hold onto. "I'm not going anywhere. And I won't forget about this, or about you. I'll be here when you get up, do you think you can try and get some rest now? It's late."

It's early, more so.

You offer him a shallow nod in response, and Dan Heng wastes no time fluffing your pillow, pulling the covers over you, and giving you some space to curl up. He doesn't bother to find your clothes, he just tucks the blankets in around you and hopes that'll suffice for now.

"I…" He gets comfy next to you, resting his head on his arm. "I don't want this to end either. I don't. I didn't even think it was happening for a while. I think… I think we should focus on our mission. We can't afford to get distracted. But when we're back on the Astral Express- Once we've got more time on our hands, we can talk about this. How's that?"

You don't answer. He takes a few moments to realize you've stilled, your chest calmly rising and falling.

"Are you asleep?"

#dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan heng smut #honkai star rail smut

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novaursa · 5 months ago

Text

The Dragon's Right (10)

- Summary: - It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Pairing: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Previous part: 9

- Next part: 11

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The Crown’s forces gathered on the ridge overlooking the barren landscape of the Dornish border. Rows of soldiers stood at the ready, shields raised, spears glinting under the harsh sun, their faces set with grim resolve. The wind carried the distant sound of drums and war horns, a steady beat from the Dornish army assembling in the valley below. The smell of dust and sweat clung to the men, the anticipation of battle hanging heavy over the field.

Captain Mallor, the commander of your ground forces, surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes. “They’re massing for a charge,” he muttered to his lieutenant, his voice low but tense. “We’re outnumbered, but if we hold the ridge, we might stand a chance.”

The lieutenant nodded, though his face was pale with the realization of what lay ahead. “Where is the prince?” he asked quietly. “We’ll need him… and his dragon.”

The captain’s eyes flicked to the sky, scanning the clear horizon. “He’ll come,” he said, though even he couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his voice.

Below them, the Dornish army moved like a tide, their brightly colored banners snapping in the wind, the glint of their spears and swords creating a sea of metal and bloodlust. They were ready, and they were coming. Soon.

But then, just as the tension seemed about to break, there was a distant, thunderous roar that echoed across the valley, causing every head to snap upward.

From the clouds above, Silverwing appeared, her massive wings beating the air with a power that made the ground tremble. You sat atop her, your body braced against the saddle as she descended swiftly, the sun catching the glint of her silvery scales. Below, the soldiers on both sides stared in awe and fear as the great dragon loomed above them, casting a shadow over the battlefield.

“There he is!” someone shouted from the lines of your men, their spirits lifting at the sight of you and Silverwing.

“Ready the archers!” Captain Mallor barked, his voice carrying over the clamor as Silverwing swooped down, her powerful wings stirring up clouds of dust.

You could feel the tension of the moment in your bones, your heart pounding with both anticipation and dread. This was it. The Dornish army was larger than expected, and you knew they had prepared for you. Reports of scorpion ballistas had been filtering in for weeks, but now, as you flew over the mass of their forces, you could see the large siege weapons being wheeled into position.

Silverwing let out another deafening roar, one that shook the ground and sent a shudder through the enemy ranks. But the Dornish were not cowed so easily. They were battle-hardened and knew that dragons, while powerful, were not invincible.

You leaned forward, giving Silverwing the command to dive.

With a terrifying grace, Silverwing folded her wings and plunged downward, a stream of dragonfire spilling from her open jaws. The fire hit the front ranks of the Dornish army like a hammer, the flames scorching the earth, leaving nothing but charred bodies and burning wreckage in their wake. Screams filled the air as the heat of the flames spread, and men scrambled to avoid the dragon’s wrath.

But as you circled for another pass, you caught sight of the scorpions—massive ballistas mounted on wooden platforms, their operators frantically turning the cranks to aim the deadly harpoons at you.

“They’re aiming for us!” you shouted to yourself, tightening your grip on the reins as you urged Silverwing to veer left. Her wings flared, and you felt the rush of wind as she twisted away, avoiding the first volley of harpoons that whizzed through the air, missing by mere feet.

“Hold steady!” you commanded, but your heart raced as you saw more scorpions being loaded, their deadly spears now pointed directly at you.

Silverwing banked hard, her wings cutting through the air as she avoided another harpoon. But in the chaos of the battlefield, you didn’t see the third scorpion until it was too late.

A sharp whistle split the air, and you had only a second to react. You yanked on the reins, pulling Silverwing into a sudden roll, but the harpoon grazed your side, tearing through your armor and ripping a searing line of pain across your ribs. You gritted your teeth, gasping as the wound burned, blood soaking through your tunic.

Silverwing let out a shriek of alarm, her body jerking to the side as she felt your pain through your bond. “I’m fine!” you shouted, though the throbbing agony in your side made it difficult to speak. “Just keep flying!”

You gripped the reins tighter, ignoring the hot, sticky sensation of blood running down your skin. Another scorpion fired, and this time, Silverwing was ready. She spun in the air, dodging the harpoon with ease before unleashing another blast of fire, scorching the siege weapon and the men operating it. The ballista exploded into a burst of wood and flame, sending debris flying in all directions.

But the battle was far from over. The Dornish soldiers, seeing their weapons destroyed, began to surge forward, their commanders barking orders as they launched a full-scale charge toward your forces.

“Now!” Captain Mallor shouted from below, raising his sword. The archers let loose their arrows in a deadly volley, and the front lines of the Dornish army fell in droves. But still, they pressed on, determined to reach the ridge and break your lines.

You urged Silverwing lower, her great wings beating the air as she descended once more. The battle below was chaos—soldiers clashing, shields splintering, the sounds of swords clanging and men screaming filling the air. You could see your forces struggling to hold the line, the weight of the Dornish numbers pushing them back.

“We need to break their charge,” you muttered, scanning the battlefield for the best point of attack.

Silverwing growled in response, her body coiled with fury, ready to strike. You guided her toward the thickest part of the enemy lines, where the Dornish were pressing hardest. With a flick of the reins, you gave her the signal, and she opened her jaws wide, releasing another torrent of dragonfire.

The flames tore through the enemy ranks, leaving devastation in their wake. Men screamed as they were consumed by fire, their armor melting to their skin. Horses bucked and fled in terror, and the ground itself seemed to burn as Silverwing’s fire swept across the battlefield.

But even as you rained fire upon the enemy, you knew this would not be enough. The Dornish were relentless, their resolve unshaken by the dragon’s fury. They pushed forward, their commanders shouting for them to press the advantage.

Your side burned with pain, but you ignored it, focusing only on the battle, on the roar of Silverwing’s breath, and on the enemy that had to be stopped.

As the battle raged on, the Dornish forces began to falter, their morale breaking under the relentless assault of dragon and steel. But you knew there would be no easy victory here. The fight had only just begun, and the price of protecting the realm would be paid in blood.

But for now, the Crown’s forces held. And Silverwing, her scales glistening with blood and soot, let out one final, victorious roar that echoed across the battlefield, sending a shudder of fear through the remnants of the Dornish army.

The mood in the Tower of the Hand was suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken words as Otto Hightower sat in his study, his fingers drumming impatiently against the edge of his desk. His brow was deeply furrowed, his mind clearly preoccupied as he stared at the open window, his thoughts far beyond the confines of the Red Keep. The months had dragged on since you had flown off to the Dornish border, and with each passing day, Otto’s frustrations grew. Plans were stalling, opportunities slipping through their grasp, all while the realm waited for the prince’s return—if he ever returned.

A soft rustling of fabric caught his attention, and he turned to see Alicent standing quietly by the door, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. She had come at his summons, but the look on her face revealed she knew this conversation would not be a pleasant one. She could sense her father’s agitation in the set of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes.

“Alicent,” Otto said without preamble, gesturing for her to enter. “Come in. We need to speak.”

She stepped into the room, her movements graceful but hesitant. The weight of the past months had settled heavily on her shoulders, her inner turmoil visible in the slight slump of her posture. She stood before her father, her hands still clasped tightly, as if bracing herself for what was to come.

“Yes, Father?” Alicent asked softly, her voice betraying the nerves she felt. She had been waiting for this conversation, knowing it was only a matter of time before Otto’s frustrations turned toward her.

Otto’s frown deepened as he stood from his chair, pacing slowly around the room, his hands behind his back. He didn’t look at her directly as he spoke, his voice low but filled with irritation. “It’s been months, Alicent. Months since the prince left for the Dornish border, and in that time, we’ve made no progress. None.”

Alicent’s heart sank at his words. She had known this was coming, but hearing the disappointment in her father’s voice still stung deeply. She shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting his gaze as he continued.

“We had a plan,” Otto went on, his tone growing sharper. “A plan that hinged on your ability to gain the prince’s favor. And yet, here we are. Months later, and you have nothing to show for it.”

Alicent flinched at the harshness of his words, but she forced herself to remain composed, though her voice wavered slightly as she responded. “I know, Father. But… the prince—he’s been away for so long. There was little I could do once he left.”

Otto stopped pacing, turning to face her with a sharp look in his eyes. “And whose fault is that? You had your chance, Alicent. You had the opportunity to win his trust, his affection, but you let it slip away. Now, we’re stuck waiting for him to return, if he even does.”

Alicent’s throat tightened, and she felt the sting of tears threatening to well in her eyes. She blinked them back, her fingers twisting nervously in front of her. She knew her father was right, at least in part. She had tried to win your favor, but her efforts had always felt hollow, overshadowed by your bond with Rhaenyra. And now, with you gone, she felt as though she had failed entirely.

“I’ll be better prepared when he returns,” she said quietly, her voice filled with quiet determination despite the sadness that weighed on her heart. “I’ll be patient, and I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

Otto raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a scornful smile. “Patient? Prepared?” He shook his head. “Alicent, by the time he returns, it may already be too late. The realm moves on, and so do alliances. If you don’t act now, we’ll lose everything we’ve worked for.”

Alicent’s chest tightened, her heart pounding in her ears as she struggled to find the right words. She had always been obedient to her father’s wishes, always tried to meet his expectations. But with you, it had been different. The feelings she harbored for you were not just strategy or duty—they were something deeper, something that made it difficult to see you as just another piece in the game her father played. She had grown fond of you, despite her attempts to push those feelings aside.

“But I can do this,” Alicent insisted, her voice firmer this time. “I won’t fail again.”

Otto sighed heavily, walking toward the window and looking out over the Red Keep. His shoulders were tense, his frustration evident in the way his hands gripped the windowsill. “You need to set aside your foolish feelings for the prince,” he said, his tone cold. “This isn’t about love, Alicent. It never was. It’s about securing our position, securing the future of our house.”

The words hit her like a physical blow, and she recoiled slightly, her eyes widening in shock. Her father’s bluntness wasn’t new, but hearing him dismiss her emotions so callously hurt more than she had expected. She had tried to hide her feelings, even from herself, but now they were laid bare, exposed and dismissed in the same breath.

“I…” Alicent started to speak, but her voice faltered, her hands trembling at her sides. She couldn’t deny that part of her had hoped for something more than mere duty in her interactions with you, and now, her father had torn that hope away.

Otto turned back to face her, his expression hard. “You had your chance, and you wasted it,” he said coldly. “Now we have to rethink our approach.”

Alicent lowered her head, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as she fought back the sting of tears. She didn’t want to appear weak in front of her father, not now. But the weight of his words crushed her, leaving her feeling as though she had failed not just him, but herself as well.

“What… what do you want me to do, Father?” she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Otto’s eyes gleamed with a new idea, his lips curling into a calculating smile as he stepped closer to her. “The king,” he began slowly, his voice taking on a more measured tone. “Your efforts may not have worked with the prince, but King Viserys… he’s been suffering since he sent his son away. He’s lonely, grieving the absence of his heir.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed, her confusion evident as she looked at her father. “Father, what are you saying?”

Otto’s gaze sharpened, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. “You will go to him, Alicent. You will offer him comfort.”

Alicent’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Father, I… I don’t understand. You want me to—”

“You’ll offer him comfort,” Otto repeated, his voice firm. “The king is vulnerable right now. He needs someone by his side, someone he can rely on. And that someone should be you.”

Alicent shook her head, stepping back from her father, her heart racing. “But I… Father, I can’t…”

Otto’s expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. “You will do what’s necessary, Alicent. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. If you can win the king’s trust, his affection, we can secure our position in the realm. You’ll ensure our future.”

Alicent’s chest tightened, her mind reeling from the implications of what her father was asking of her. “But… but I care for the prince,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I thought… I thought I could—”

Otto cut her off with a sharp look. “The prince is gone, Alicent. And when he returns, it may be too late to secure anything with him. You must focus on the here and now. The king is the key to our future.”

Alicent stared at her father, her heart breaking as the weight of his expectations crashed down on her. She had always done as he asked, always played the part he had molded her into. But this… this was different. This felt like a betrayal, not just to herself, but to you as well.

“I’ll do what you ask,” she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But…” She hesitated, tears welling in her eyes. “I… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Otto’s expression softened for a moment, but only briefly. “We all must make sacrifices, Alicent,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Now go. The king needs comfort. Give it to him.”

Alicent nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she turned to leave the room, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead.

The air in King Viserys’s private chambers was charged with strife, the kind that clung to the walls and weighed down every breath. Rhaenyra stood, her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her chest rising and falling with the force of her anger. Across the room, Viserys sat in his high-backed chair, his face red from the shouting match that had already unfolded between them. His eyes were sharp with frustration, though beneath it all was the unmistakable sorrow of a father who felt cornered by his own decisions.

“I will not marry him!” Rhaenyra’s voice rang out, fierce and defiant, her usually calm demeanor shattered. She paced the floor, unable to stand still, her mind racing as the weight of her father’s words sank in. “Lord Jason Lannister? He is arrogant, conceited, and—"

“You will marry him,” Viserys interrupted sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are a princess, and this is your duty. Lord Jason is the perfect match to solidify the alliance between the Crown and House Lannister. This is not up for debate.”

Rhaenyra spun on her heel, her face a mixture of fury and disbelief. “I don’t care about alliances, Father!” she shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. “I will not be bargained off like a prize to someone like Jason Lannister. You know nothing of him—he’s vain, pompous, and entirely insufferable! I refuse to marry him, and I will not be forced into this.”

Viserys’s jaw tightened, and he slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, the sound echoing through the chamber. “You will marry him, Rhaenyra!” he bellowed, rising from his seat, his face flushed with anger. “You think you can run from your duty forever? This is not a choice! You are the heir to the Iron Throne, and you will marry as I see fit. That is the end of it.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes burned with tears she refused to shed, her heart pounding with rage. She stared at her father, her lip trembling as the weight of his words pressed down on her. He had always been the one person she thought would understand her, the one person she could count on. But now, here he was, forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want with a man she despised.

“This is about more than just duty,” she said, her voice lower now, but no less intense. “It’s about control. You married Alicent, and now you think you can dictate the rest of my life. But I won’t let you. I won’t.”

Viserys’s face softened, if only for a moment, at the mention of his new wife. The two years since his marriage to Alicent had not been easy on his relationship with Rhaenyra, and he knew this decision would only drive a deeper wedge between them. But he couldn’t back down. Not now.

“This is the way things are done, Rhaenyra,” he said, his voice calmer but still resolute. “You must understand that everything I do is for the good of the realm. You will be queen one day, and this marriage is essential to securing the stability of your future rule.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her jaw clenched in defiance. “I will never marry Jason Lannister,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the force of her determination. “Never.”

Before Viserys could respond, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the chamber, her footsteps heavy with anger. The guards at the door flinched as she passed, their eyes wide with alarm at the sight of the princess so visibly enraged.

“Princess!” Ser Criston Cole called out from down the corridor, his voice filled with concern as he hurried to catch up with her. He had been waiting just outside the king’s chambers, listening to the raised voices within. Now, seeing Rhaenyra’s furious expression, he knew something terrible had happened.

She didn’t stop, didn’t slow her pace as she marched toward her chambers, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to control the storm of emotions inside her. Ser Criston followed her closely, his armor clinking with every hurried step.

“Princess, please,” he said gently, though there was an edge of urgency in his voice. “What happened? What has the king said?”

Rhaenyra didn’t answer. She couldn’t. If she spoke, she feared the anger boiling inside her would explode in a way she couldn’t control. Instead, she pushed open the door to her chambers with more force than necessary, the wood creaking under her hands.

Once inside, she finally stopped, her back to Ser Criston as she stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving. She was shaking, her body tense with the intensity of her emotions. Ser Criston, ever respectful, lingered just inside the door, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Leave me,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice thick with barely suppressed emotion. “I need to be alone.”

Ser Criston hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning her form for any sign of what might have transpired. But he knew better than to press her. He bowed his head slightly. “As you wish, Princess,” he said softly, before stepping back into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rhaenyra let out a shuddering breath, her entire body trembling with fury and despair. She paced the room for a moment, her mind racing with thoughts of rebellion, of defiance. How could her father do this to her? How could he expect her to marry a man like Jason Lannister, a man she had no love for, no respect for?

The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage, bound to a man who cared only for power and prestige, made her stomach churn. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Without another thought, she rushed to her writing desk, her fingers trembling as she grabbed a piece of parchment and quill. She had to reach out to you. You were the only one who would understand, the only one who might be able to help her.

Her quill scratched furiously across the parchment as she poured her heart into the letter. She told you everything—her father’s plan, the marriage she was being forced into, her anger, her fear. She wrote of how much she missed you, how much she needed you by her side now more than ever.

As she finished, she wiped away a stray tear that had fallen onto the parchment, smudging the ink slightly. She folded the letter carefully, sealing it with wax before hurrying to the window.

She could see the rookery from her chambers, the tower where the ravens were kept. She had used this method before, sending secret messages to you during your time away, but this one felt more urgent, more desperate. She knew that by the time the letter reached you, it might be too late. But she had to try. You were her only hope.

Rhaenyra called for her handmaiden, who arrived quickly at her command. “Take this to the rookery,” Rhaenyra said, her voice steady but filled with urgency. “It must go to my brother at once.”

The handmaiden nodded, taking the letter from her hands and hurrying out of the room. Rhaenyra watched her go, her heart racing with both fear and hope. She turned back to the window, staring out at the sky, her thoughts with you, wondering when you would return—if you would return before it was too late.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a tranquil oasis amidst the bustling halls and chambers, but today, there was no peace to be found in them for Rhaenyra. She sat on a stone bench, staring out at the delicate flowers and perfectly pruned hedges, her mind far from the beauty surrounding her. The announcement of her marriage to Jason Lannister had been like a thunderclap in her life, shaking her to the core, and her heart was still simmering with anger and frustration. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let this happen, yet here she was, being forced into a match she despised.

The sound of footsteps approaching stirred her from her thoughts, and she didn’t need to look to know who it was. Daemon. His presence was as unmistakable as the swagger in his step, the kind of casual arrogance that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He appeared beside her, leaning against a tree with a faint smirk on his lips.

“You look like you’ve been banished to the ends of the earth,” Daemon teased, his voice laced with amusement. “What’s wrong, niece? Did someone steal your favorite lemon cake?”

Rhaenyra shot him a glare, her temper flaring. “It must be so easy for you to jest,” she snapped, her voice biting, “when I’m the one being bargained off like some trinket to marry Jason Lannister and be whisked away to Casterly Rock.”

Daemon’s smirk only widened at her outburst, clearly enjoying her ire. “A Lannister, eh? I’ve heard worse fates,” he replied with a lazy shrug. “Though I can see why the idea of being stuffed away in a gilded cage at Casterly Rock might not sit well with you.”

Rhaenyra scoffed, her anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t understand. It’s not just the marriage—it’s everything. It’s—” She clenched her fists in her lap, her voice trembling with frustration. “He promised me.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his amusement fading slightly as he leaned in, curious. “Who promised you what?”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, her voice low and filled with anger. “My brother. He promised me that he wouldn’t let this happen. He swore he would protect me from being forced into a marriage I didn’t want. And yet here I am, on the verge of being shipped off to marry a man I can’t stand.”

Daemon was silent for a moment, studying her carefully. His amusement returned, though it was tempered now with something more thoughtful. “Ah, so it’s not just the Lannister match that has you fuming,” he mused, his tone sly. “It’s that your dear brother isn’t here to sweep in and save you.”

Rhaenyra whipped her head toward him, eyes blazing. “He lied to me!” she nearly shouted, her voice filled with betrayal. “He promised. And now he’s been away for years, fighting at the borders while I’m left here, alone, to deal with this madness.”

Daemon didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes glinted with something akin to understanding. He knew what it felt like to be betrayed by family, to be pushed aside for the sake of duty. But he wasn’t about to offer her comfort—not in the way others might. Instead, he leaned back, his tone casual.

“Well, perhaps your brother had other matters on his mind. War does tend to make men forget promises,” he said, though the amusement had returned to his voice. “Or maybe… he didn’t forget at all, but simply couldn’t stop this from happening.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, trying to compose herself, though her hands were still shaking with rage. The thought that you might have been powerless to stop this was one she hadn’t wanted to entertain. She had put her faith in you, had believed in your promises, and now it felt as though that trust had been shattered.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, and after a moment of silence, she spoke again, her tone cooler, more controlled. “I heard about Lady Rhea,” she said, shifting the conversation. “A hunting accident, wasn’t it? Her horse fell, and… well, it seems you’re now free to marry again.”

Daemon’s smirk returned, though there was a darkness behind his eyes. “Yes, my dear wife,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It seems she brought her death upon herself. She always had an uncanny ability to make unfortunate decisions.”

Rhaenyra snorted, crossing her arms. “I’m sure her death has made your bride-to-be, Laena Velaryon, quite ecstatic.”

Daemon chuckled, the amusement dancing in his eyes once more. “Laena is a smart girl,” he replied, lifting his gaze toward the sky. “She knows what’s good for her. Besides, I doubt she’ll mourn Lady Rhea’s passing too much.”

Before Rhaenyra could respond, Daemon’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced toward the entrance to the gardens. “Speaking of wives, your new stepmother seems rather keen on finding you,” he said with a smirk, nodding in the direction of the approaching figure. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Rhaenyra turned to see Alicent Hightower making her way across the gardens, her steps tentative but determined. Rhaenyra’s frown deepened as she watched Daemon give her a mock salute before he walked off, leaving her to face Alicent alone.

Alicent approached slowly, her green gown trailing softly behind her, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were holding back from reaching out to Rhaenyra. “Rhaenyra,” she said gently, her voice soft but tinged with hesitation. “I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to… talk.”

Rhaenyra didn’t bother hiding the annoyance in her voice. “Have you now? Come to offer more congratulations on my impending marriage, or perhaps to check if I’m still in one piece?”

Alicent winced at the sharpness of her tone but pressed on, her gaze filled with an earnestness that Rhaenyra found both irritating and exhausting. “I wanted to know how you were feeling,” she said quietly, her words careful. “I know this marriage was unexpected, and I… I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Rhaenyra let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “How I’m feeling? You really want to know how I’m feeling, Alicent?” She turned to face her fully, her eyes narrowing. “I feel like I’ve been betrayed. Like everyone around me is conspiring to push me into a life I don’t want. And you? You stand there, pretending to care, when you’re part of the very system that’s caging me in.”

Alicent’s face flushed with hurt, but she stood her ground, her voice soft but steady. “Rhaenyra, I do care. I didn’t want this to happen either. I know you don’t want to marry Jason Lannister, and if I could—”

“If you could?” Rhaenyra interrupted, her voice rising with anger. “But you can’t, can you? You’re as much a pawn in this as I am. Except you’ve made peace with it. You’ve accepted your place, married my father, and now you think you can offer me comfort?”

Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she didn’t back down. “I just wanted to help,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

Rhaenyra shook her head, her heart hardening as she turned away from her former friend. “There’s nothing you can do to help me, Alicent,” she said coldly. “So don’t bother.”

With that, she left the gardens, leaving Alicent standing there, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.

The sun hung low on the horizon, lazy rays sprayed across the barren landscape of the Dornish border. The air was filled with dust and the stench of blood, remnants of the brutal fighting that had raged for many moons. Your men, tired but unbroken, stood along the ridgeline, watching as the enemy forces began to pull back. The Dornish army, once so bold and numerous, now appeared ragged, their numbers thinned by the relentless engagements, their morale shattered.

You stood at the crest of the hill, overlooking the retreating forces, Silverwing perched nearby, her gleaming silver scales catching the last light of day. Her low, rumbling breaths were the only sound breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the battlefield. Your hand rested on the hilt of Blackfyre, your eyes narrowed as you watched the disarray below, the remnants of the Dornish army attempting to regroup, though their retreat was obvious.

Ser Kevven Moriggen, a grizzled and experienced knight who had fought by your side throughout this campaign, rode up beside you. His armor was dented and smeared with dirt and blood, but his eyes still gleamed with the fierce determination of a man not yet willing to let the battle end.

“They’re pulling back, Your Grace,” Kevven said, his voice hoarse from days of shouting orders. He glanced at you, waiting for your command. “Should we press them? They’re vulnerable, and a final push might scatter them for good.”

You frowned, your gaze locked on the retreating enemy. The temptation to drive them back to their lands, to ensure they wouldn’t return for decades, was strong. But there was something hollow about the thought of chasing them now, after years of bloodshed. They were broken, their supplies exhausted, and to pursue them deeper into their own land would be a waste of men and resources.

“No,” you said firmly, turning to Kevven. “We don’t need to spill more blood on their land. If they cross back into ours, then we’ll engage. But for now, let them retreat. The battle is over.”

Kevven looked surprised, his hand tightening around the reins of his horse. “Your Grace, if we push now—”

“I said no, Ser Kevven,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for debate. “There’s no honor in cutting down a retreating army. We’ve held our ground, and they’re falling back. That’s victory enough.”

The knight hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded, though the disappointment was clear on his face. “As you command, Your Grace.”

You watched as he turned his horse around, riding down the line to relay the order to the other commanders. The soldiers, weary and worn, seemed relieved when the command to hold was given. They had fought long and hard, and the sight of the enemy retreating was a victory in itself.

The silence of the battlefield settled in once more, the distant figures of the retreating Dornish shrinking against the horizon. Your mind was heavy, not with the satisfaction of victory, but with the weight of the toll this war had taken—on your men, on the realm, and on yourself. You had been away from the capital for too long, and the thought of what awaited you back home stirred uneasily in your chest.

Just then, a soldier approached, his face dirtied with the grime of battle, his breath coming in short gasps as he saluted you. “Your Grace, a raven arrived. A message… from the Red Keep. It bears the Targaryen seal.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Targaryen seal. That meant only one thing. Rhaenyra.

Without hesitation, you took the small scroll from the soldier, your fingers trembling slightly as you broke the seal. The wax crumbled beneath your touch, and you quickly unfurled the parchment, your eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. Rhaenyra’s handwriting, urgent and pleading.

Brother, the letter began. You promised me you would protect me. You promised me you wouldn’t let them force me into a marriage I did not want. But Father has broken that promise. He’s ordered me to marry Jason Lannister, and I cannot, I will not do it. They are trying to take away my freedom, trying to take away everything we spoke of. You told me you would stand by me, and now I need you more than ever. Come home. Please, I beg of you, come home and help me.

Your grip on the letter tightened as you read the words again, the desperation in her plea cutting through you like a blade. You could see her in your mind’s eye—Rhaenyra, fierce and determined, but also vulnerable, trapped by the weight of duty and expectation. She had always relied on you to protect her from the worst of court politics, and now, you were hundreds of miles away, unable to stop what was happening.

You folded the letter slowly, your chest tightening with frustration and anger. You had promised her that you wouldn’t let this happen. You had promised to protect her, to ensure she wasn’t forced into a marriage that she didn’t want. And yet, while you had been here, fighting a war at the edge of the realm, they had moved against her, using her as a tool in the political games of King’s Landing.

Silverwing shifted behind you, sensing the change in your emotions, her low rumble filling the air as if to offer comfort. You closed your eyes, your thoughts racing. You knew you couldn’t remain here. You had to return. Rhaenyra needed you, and you would not fail her again..

As the sun started to set, you made your decision.

It was time to go home.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #rhaenyra x y/n #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x male reader #silverwing #the dragon's right

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