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callieyanderechan · 13 days

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Based on this ask

Young President!Coriolanus Snow x Call Girl!Reader, Dom!Coriolanus

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is in himself his own warning. Dubcon, Noncon, choking, impact play, kissing, degradation, biting, p in v, breeding kink, creampie, talks of sex work, talks of past sex trafficking, talks of poisoning/murder

You stare out the pitch black tinted window as the driver of your black luxury car drives you to your destination, the Presidential Palace. You've been acting as President Coriolanus Snow's personal high class call girl for years. Well, ever since he became Head Gamemaker and saw you in Pluribus Bell’s illicit, but high end sex club.

Pluribus had acquired you when General Byzantine had put you up on the auction block after using you (and literally torturing you) as his personal fuckdoll. Despite looking like a broken piece of shit, hatred and fire burned in your beautiful eyes. According to Pluribus, it was the look in your eyes that made the old man buy you; put you in charge of the girls in his sex club.

So, basically, Pluribus made you a Madame. Not that you minded. Hell, it meant that you didn't have to fuck nutjob, crazy, overly kinky whackjob Capitol men anymore.

But when Coriolanus Snow came into the club, after being invited by Pluribus after breaking off an engagement (why things didn't work with the Cardew banking heir, Livia, you didn't know; didn't care either) and laid his icy blue eyes on you, well, he just knew that he had to have you.

At first you told Pluribus no when he approached you with Snow's request, but then the platinum blonde pretty boy cornered you with an offer you couldn't refuse. A private penthouse, your own car and driver, a black Amex, and never having to work another day if you agree to be at his beck and call as his personal call girl.

His high class girl, as he called you.

That was 5 years ago.

Yea…

At this rate you'll probably be President Snow's high class girl forever.

Hopefully he finds himself a wife so you can move on with your life. Maybe take all that money you have squirreled away and get a nice beach house somewhere in District 4. The weather's lovely there. Maybe you'll even find somebody to settle down with; even have a kid or two.

It'd be nice to be able to retire from whoring. You've been in the game since your family sold you at age 15 to pay off debts. You've been fucking for a living for a decade now; it's getting old.

But at least the President is the kindest out of all the men you've been with, which is saying something because Coriolanus is as cold as his name, Snow.

You're so far inside of your head that you don't even notice the car stop or your driver, Herbie open the door.

Herbie clears his throat, only.to announce, 'Ma’am, we're here.”, causing your self imposed spell over your mind to break.

“Thank you, Herbie.” You simply told him, stretching your hand out for him to help you out of the car.

“I'll be here waiting for you, Ma’am.” Your driver told you, shutting the door once you were out of the car.

“Thank you. I won't be long.” You politely assured Herbie before walking towards the side entrance of the Presidential Mansion, which was marked with a trellis of vining; blooming roses. The side entrance leads straight to Coriolanus' personal living quarters; of course you had the key for it.

Your black designer stilettos loudly echo against the marble as you walk up the white and gold staircase that separates the president's personal living room, sitting room, kitchen, and dining room from the bed chambers, bathrooms, and his private study. You've only ever been in his bedroom and the sitting room. Both were immaculate, so you assume that the rest of his living quarters in the presidential palace must be extravagant too.

One thing you've noted about President Coriolanus Snow over the last few years of knowing him is that he has high class taste. A posca taste, if you'll call it. The more expensive, the better.

And it's that trait of his that has you baffled about why he's kept you around so long to fulfill his needs. Surely he can find himself some young, beautiful, and naive high class twit from a rich family to groom into his perfect classy woman.

His First Lady.

Surely, he must be getting tired of paying for you- putting you up in a high end penthouse that's about a 5 or so minute drive from his palace. Back before he became president your place was literally the next building over from his. Yea, that's how classy and ritzy of a penthouse you're in.

“I'm in my room, darling.” Coriolanus called out to you as soon as your heels clicked against the marble of his second story floor.

No shit, he's in his room. He's always in his room. He's either sitting on the bed end settee or on his ornate sofa, but either way he's donning his waistcoat and smoking while waiting for you. The epitome of regal master.

“I’ll be right there, Coriolanus.” You called back, speeding up your steps slightly to reach the white and gold scrolled double doors of his chambers.

Opening the door and walking inside, you spot him lounging on his cream sofa. His legs are crossed and he has an arm lazily thrown over the back of the sofa’s ornate mahogany frame. Coriolanus’ platinum hair his in its natural curly state, which is a rarity, but also means that he ruined his slicked back look by running his hands thru his hair all day- something he does when frustrated or nervous. And, like always while awaiting your visit, he's smoking.

“Darling, I told you last time you were here to call me Coryo.” The President told you, reaching his arm out to tip his ashes into the crystal ashtray that's on the mahogany coffee table.

“I'm sorry, Coryo. I forgot.” You lied thru a smile, a smile that was so fake it wasn't even funny.

You didn't forget, you just don't want to call him nicknames. Not when you know that your arrangement has an expiration date; one that'll be coming up soon enough.

Sitting up, he pointed to you with his cigarette and said, “Show me what you wore for me tonight.”

He did this every time you came over for his booty call. It was a ritual you're used to. You'd be shocked if he didn't ask you to model the lingerie for him.

With a sultry smile, you untie and unbutton the long red trenchcoat you're wearing. “It's a new set that I bought the other day.” You inform Coriolanus while opening up the coat and letting it fall off your shoulders; onto the floor.

President Snow's mouth watered as he took in your form dressed up in a lacy black bustier and matching cheeky panties along with those black stilettos with the red bottoms- the ones that he loved seeing you in. He thought that those heels did wonders for your legs, legs that he loved to have wrapped around his body- whether he was fucking you or feasting on your cunt.

Snubbing his cigarette in the crystal ashtray and rising from the sofa, the president smirked, “I do enjoy it when you go lingerie shopping, my darling rose.” Striding over to you, only to circle you like a predator circle's it's prey, the regal platinum blonde looked at you hungrily. As if he's starving and you're a filet mignon.

Coriolanus stopped right in front of you, only to give you a smoldering look while unbuttoning his maroon waistcoat, his long fingers moving lithely. Shrugging off the vest and chucking it towards a nearby sitting chair, he closed the distance between you. His tall form towers over you; you know what he wants from you.

It's what he always wants from you.

You ran your hands over his chest, which was quite toned underneath his crisp white dress shirt, and pressed your lips to his Adam's apple. As you kissed a tantalizing trail down his neck and to the collar of his shirt, leaving blood red lips tip stains in your wake, his large hands snaked around you. His breathing was husky and lustful as you lifted your head up, staring straight into his baby blues, while unbuttoning his shirt. Your red nails a stark contrast to his shirt.

“I have a business trip I need to attend in 12.” Coriolanus said while you pushed his shirt off of him after opening it up. You just nodded, raking your red nails up and down his chest before tweaking his nipples. Just the way that he likes.

You thought that all talks of his meeting was over, so you leaned forward to kiss him, but he stopped you by lifting up one of his hands and grabbing your chin. “The mining bosses are having some issues with their workers meeting production goals; I'm leaving in the morning and you're coming with me.”

Your eyes went wide. You can't go to 12. No, you won't go to 12. You refuse to go back to that shit hole you once called home, where your family- that sold you into a life of sexual slavery to a brothel for money to pay off drinking debts- lives.

“I'm not going to 12, Coriolanus. We'll see each other when you get back.” You firmly told him.

Which wasn't what he wanted to hear. In fact, he wanted you to nod your head; maybe make a remark about needing to pack, and then get to fucking him. You refusing him was never in the cards.

You just dealt him a hand he wasn't expecting. But, President Snow's an excellent poker player; he'll make due with the cards you've just given him.

Coriolanus' large hand slipped from your chin only to grab your throat. His face dipped so close to yours that his hot breath, which smelt like smoke, mints, bourbon, and coffee, fanned over your face. “I'm not asking you, Y/N. I'm telling you that you're coming to District 12 with me.” His thumb pressed into your windpipe, not hard enough to cut off your breathing, but hard enough to make you wheeze and pay attention to him as he spoke in a cold, authoritarian tone. “I fucking own you, so when I tell you to do something you do it. You don't get to say no to me.”

President Snow looked like a crazed, disheveled mess as he chastised you. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on. Because it did.

Oh how it did. It might be wrong being turned on by a power hungry zealot who's telling you that you're his property, but the way he looked while doing it. Hot damn, it made your pussy pool; stain your black lacy panties with a wet patch.

Yea…you're pretty fucked up at this point in your life.

The platinum blonde's large hand slid from your hip over your lower belly, only to sneak under the waistband of your panties. He dipped his mouth to your ear, grabbing your pussy in his large calloused hands, while telling you, “I own this pussy, darling, and if I want to fuck it every goddamn day of my business trip then I sure as hell will.” Coriolanus bit your earlobe, hard enough to crack the pearl earring you're wearing.

An earring he bought you in the early days of your arrangement.

He pulled away, only to look at you darkly. Spitting the cracked pearl earring in your face, he pulled his hand out of your underwear. He brought his fingers up to his prominent nose, only to inhale your scent. His eyes fluttered shut and his face contorted into a look of pleasure. He was, for a lack of a better word, getting high off of your musk.

Oh yea, the President sure was something else…but who are you to judge? You're his personal whore, so…

His icy eyes popped open, with a lust filled crazed look, as he sucked his fingers one by one. Savoring the taste of your juices while keeping his tight hold on your neck with his other hand. His tongue swirled around his pinky, the last finger to be licked clean by him. “You taste divine. Too bad you need to be disciplined for your rude behavior and won't be having your cunt eaten by me tonight.”

“Disciplined for my rude behavior? Coryo, the only thing I did was tell you that I'm not going to 12.” You spoke up, standing your ground to your, for a lack of a better word, owner.

Coryo’s fingers pressed hard into your neck, no doubt leaving behind finger shaped bruises that would need covered up by IL MAKIAGE tomorrow. Looks like you'll have to make another trip to Sephora soon if you don't want to have bruises all over your neck shown off to the public. How embarrassing would that be, going to various stores with chokehold bruising all over your neck. You shudder at the thought of it.

“Talking back is rude behavior, baby.” He hissed before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was hard and bruising. Biting your lower lip; drawing blood, he pulled away from the kiss. Giving you a dark, slightly unhinged look, the stoic platinum blonde swore, “Bad girls get spankings and you're going to get so many that you won't be able to sit on your red, hot ass tomorrow during our damn train ride.”

Coriolanus is sitting on the red velveteen settee at the end of his gold and red velvet framed bed. You're bent over his knees, ass up in the air while your head rests on the settee. Your arms are outstretched; your hands arm firmly grabbing the end of the red velvet material for purchase as the President smacks one ass cheek and then the other.

*Smack, smack*

Coriolanus chuckles at how red your ass is. He's been at this for a while now; both of you have lost count of how many times his hand has come down on your cheeks. He rubs the sting out of your red ass cheeks before raising his hand high up in the air and bringing it down on the right cheek, only to repeat the action on the left cheek.

*Smack, smack*

Your designer black heels are still on your feet, so they sway in the air as you kick out of reflex due to the spankings. God, he would make you keep the heels on for this. Hell, this spanking session seems to be the longest in your entire life with him. Usually he indulges in a slap or two to your ass while taking you from behind, but never anything like this.

But it could be worse. He could be a crazy, torture hungry, fucking sadist like that crazy ass General Byzantine was. The man who beat you within an inch to your life and put you up on the auction block once a couple of his Avoxes had nurtured you to suitable health.

You were overjoyed when he died about 4-4 ½ years ago. All the media outlets say that General Byzantine died from tainted tea at one of the popular tea houses in the Capitol. Apparently Coriolanus was there with him, having a meeting for political purposes since he was running for Senate and nearly died. You remember that he had canceled your sessions for a week, but still put a hefty sum in your bank account; even requested that you wear a certain color lingerie (blood red) when you resumed your little booty calls with him once he recovered from nearly dying from tainted tea.

Your black lacy cheeky panties slid up your ass crack from the force of all the spankings. Coriolanus didn't say a word, just silently righted the panties before landing another pair of smacks to your ass cheeks, causing you to let out a loud squeal.

“Did my bad baby girl learn her lesson, or do you need more?” President Snow asked, his ardent tone a bit dark and mocking as he soothed your ass by rubbing it- with both palms this time.

“I've learnt my lesson, Mister President, Sir.” You told him, choking back a moan as you grew wetter and wetter from his hands just rubbing the sting out of your ass. Oh God, how your core aches for his cock.

Coriolanus let out a deep, throaty moan at your answer. He loves it, fucking loves it when you call him Mister President and Sir. Oh, and put them both together- yea he's fucking feral.

The president slightly opened your legs, only to swipe a long finger up your wet, clothed center. “Oh, darling, you're soaked.” He proudly announced. “Is that all for me?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked, already knowing that it was all for him.

You knew that the platinum president didn't need an answer, but decided to indulge him with one anyway. “Yes, Coryo. It's always for you.”

Coryo bent down and peppered your beet red ass with kisses. The plushness of his lips against your hot sensitive skin makes you squirm. Chuckling, Coriolanus sat up and pulled your heels off, one by one, and let them fall to the floor with a loud thud. He helped you stand on your feet, only to pull down your panties and toss you onto the bed.

As you lay on your stomach, head buried in his pillow, which smelled like him- like roses, you heard the sound of Coryo slipping out of his black floor shines while unbuckling his belt. You peeked over your shoulder, only to see him quickly unzipping his maroon pants. You turned back around, resting your head back on his pillow, as he quickly shed his pants and boxer briefs.

“Lift your ass up high for me and spread your legs as wide as they'll go, baby.” The President ordered you, to which you obliged him. Your ass was raw and stung, but your pussy was throbbing with need, as Coryo kneeled right behind you on his king sized bed. “Fuck, you're always such a needy lil slut for me, darling.” He remarked upon seeing your cunt dripping and glistening for him.

Looking over your shoulder, you smirked, “Only for you, Coryo, my Mister President.”

The platinum blonde's icy eyeballs nearly rolled into the back of his head at your words. Words that went straight to his cock, making it harder- if that was even possible.

“Yes, I'm your President and you're my perfect, pretty, lil slut.” Coriolanus groaned, teasing your clit with the angry, red, leaky tip of his cock. “You remember that the next time I tell you to do something, baby girl.” He said, grabbing your hips and snapping forward; sheathing his entire 8 inches into your soaking wet cunt. “Fuck, darling, you're so goddamn tight for me.” Coriolanus groaned, pulling out only to surge forward, causing you to mewl out in pleasure.

President Coriolanus Snow has a big cock and he sure does know how to use it. That's for sure. And you let him know that too.

“Of course I'm tight for you, Coryo. You're the biggest cock I've had, the only man whose tip kisses my cervix; whose girth stretches me out with a delicious sting.” You honestly tell him, stroking his ego and making him start to pound into you relentlessly.

Hearing you say that out of all the men that you've had in your whoring career that he's the biggest and the best makes his heart soar with overwhelming pride. So much so, that he'll just have to keep you around.

Permanently.

Coryo doesn't think that you'll have any protests about it. Maybe he'll bring up the idea while you're away on business in 12. Use the time away as both a vacation and a business trip. There is a vacant cabin in the woods that he knows of by a lake that could be a setting for a romantic night or two.

“Oh…fuck…Coryo…” You moan into the pillow that you're holding onto for dear life as you surge forward with every hard, fast thrust Coryo gives you.

“You like it when I fuck you face first in the mattress like a dirty fucking slut, don't you darling?” He groans, rutting even faster while placing a hand on the middle of your back; pushing you further down into the mattress. “Fuck, you're so sexy like this, baby.” The President huffs. “So fucking sexy.”

You moan into the pillow, but it comes out in a heap of garbled drools, as Coryo's cock hits that special spongy spot deep inside of you while his heavy cum filled balls slap against your swollen, neglected clit.

“That's it, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock, you pathetic slut.” Coriolanus encouraged in a half groan as you began to meet his thrust with ones of your own. You could help it, you needed to cum so badly. Fucking yourself on his cock while he pounded you was the only way to do that.

Turning your head, so that the side of your face rest on his drool soaked pillow, you mewl and whine, “So close, Coryo. I'm so close.” Feeling that coil in your lower belly tighten, you beg, “Please, let me cum, Mister President. Please, make me cum.”

Coryo quickly unhooked the long row of clasps that held your black lacy bodice together while cooing, “Don't worry, my pretty baby, I'll make you cum” The bodice fell off your shoulders, but Coryo slipped his arm around your middle and pulled you up on your knees, only to yank the black bustier off of you; tossing it to the side.

Coryo's hands instantly grabbed hold of your tits as he continued to harshly fuck you. His hands squeezed them roughly and pinched your nipples, all the while your hands clawed his wrists for leverage as he felt your climax coming on. Coriolanus knows you're close by how your cunt's clenching around his cock. “Fucking cum for me, darling.” he ordered, biting the crook of your neck.

The feel of his teeth roughly nipping your skin, only to use his tongue to soothe it, paired with his deep, erratic thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against your clit deliciously, and his large, calloused hands roughly fondling, had you cumming with a loud moan. A moan that was a string of curses mixed with his name: Coryo.

He fucked you thru your orgasm only to shove you back down onto the bed and plunge his cock hard and fast into you. His pounding was so relentless as he chased his own release that you felt another orgasm on the cusp. Oh gods, his cock felt so fucking good hitting you on all the right spots.

Oh fuck…

“I'm gonna fuck you full with my heirs, baby.” Coryo panted, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Can't wait to fucking knock you up; see your belly swell with my growing baby inside.” He babbled as his hands roughly held onto your shoulders for leverage. “You're gonna look so beautiful all round and full of my baby, my darling rose.”

You didn't pay him any mind. Didn't say a word about his string of impossible words. You're on birth control, so his fantasy of knocking you up is just that. A fantasy. A breeding kink, to be politically correct.

Coriolanus’ hips stuttered, once, twice, three times before he was moaning, “Fuck, Y/N, baby. Fuck…”, and filling your pussy with hot ropes of his thick cum.

Feeling his hot cum spurting into your womb sent you over the edge. “Coryo…” You mewled, cumming for a second time.

He didn't stop and pull out like he usually did.

No…

This time, Coriolanus kept fucking you. He fucked his load right into your pussy, causing you to let out a shaky moan from both overstimulation and your third orgasm of the night.

Coryo finally pulled out, but only after filling you up with a second load of his thick, hot cum. Cum that was somehow leftover in his balls from the first time.

The President smugly grinned as he watched his second load of the night slowly drip out of your puffy, abused pussy- looking like beautiful white pearls.

Ah, pearls. That reminds him…

“I bought you a new jewelry set for the trip. Fancier pearls than the ones you had; they're packed in your bag.” Coriolanus told you, sitting by your side and rubbing your back as you lay on the bed like a ragdoll.

Ugh. Of course, he bought you new things, including luggage, and packed them up for the damn trip to District 12- your personal hell- that he's dragging you on.

When you didn't say a word, Coryo pushed the strands of sweat soaked hair away from your face and asked, “Are you alright, baby?”

Pushing his hand away from your face, you simply assured him, “Yea, I'm fine.”

Nodding, he told you, “I'll call your driver, tell him that you're staying the night; then I'll run us a bath.”

You've never stayed the night before, prompting you to ask, “Why're you letting me stay the night with you, Coryo?”, as he stood up.

“We're needed at the train station bright and early, Y/N. It's just easier for you to stay here so we can head out together in the morning.” The President explained before taking off to do the things he told you about.

Of course, he wanted you to stick around tonight so he can make sure that you're on that train with him heading to 12 in the morning. You're his personal high class girl. His glorified whore. If President Coriolanus Snow wants you with him tonight to ensure that you step on that train with him tomorrow, so he can fuck you during his stupid business trip in hell, then that's what he's going to get.

You don't have a say in the matter. You're just around until he gets bored of you; finds something younger and prettier to satisfy his carnal desires with.

Only you thing you don't know is that President Coriolanus Snow’s never going to get bored of you or trade you in for a younger model. In fact he thinks you're the best girl he's ever had.

Hell, the devil himself knows that the President killed for you- even if you don't know it.

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callieyanderechan · 13 days

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Crybaby yandere boyfriend when he thinks you’re cheating

He is running errands around town when he sees what he thinks is you out and about with another man. Weren’t you at work today? Why were you at the cafe? Who is he? Are you seeing someone else?

Don’t you know nobody else can love you like he does? Why are you doing this to him when he loves you so much?

The thought has him sick to his stomach and he nearly loses his lunch as a result.

When you return home later that evening, he tackles you as soon as you close the door shut. His eyes are red from crying, and you immediately express your concern over him.

“Do you love me still? Am I doing something wrong? What can he do what I can’t?”

You ask him what he’s talking about but he just shakes his head in frustration.

With a sniffle, he hugs you tightly, too tight to the point you can’t move or escape his grasp even if you wanted to.

“No, no. I know you love me. You HAVE to. I love you too. More than I can say. We belong together!” He mumbles into the crook of your neck, “Maybe you just need some more convincing.”

With a squeal from you, he’s lifting you off your feet and into his arms, bridal style. He carries you into the bedroom before throwing you on the bed and locking the door. After, he climbs onto the bed and on top of you, eyes watering again.

“I just got to show you, right? What I can give you. What you’d be missing.”

His lips immediately hit yours, body weight leaning all the way into you so you feel crushed underneath him. The two of you share a heated kiss, with him growling your name under his breath. When he takes his hoodie off and throws it on the floor, you know he’s serious.

He nibbles on your neck and holds your hands in a way you can’t let go.

”I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think of anything else but me.”

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callieyanderechan · 13 days

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Yandere Lannister Family (Platonic) would include:

Note-While this is mainly platonic, there can be interpreted romantic pairings

Characters: Cersei, Joanna. Tywin, Jaime, Tyrion, Kevin and Genna (Mentioned), Rhaegar

Cersei was the one who brought you into the family. Friends came and left, yet somehow you remained. As she was with her brother, Jaime, Cersei was incredibly possessive. Wanting to be your only friend. Pushing or pulling the hair of any girl who tries to take your attention away from her. Also seen holding your hands, tugging you along wherever she needs to go.

Soon you are being introduced to Joanna. Who’s heard all about you from Cersei. She’s polite as she greets you. Hand on her swollen round belly. Cersei told you she wishes it was a girl. When the two of you leave, your friend lets it be known that her mother likes you. It wasn’t a lie as most of the time you spend with Cersei, Joanna is there watching the two of you with such fondness.

Keep reading

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callieyanderechan · 13 days

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Y/N : If Daenerys has a million fans, then I am one of them. If Daenerys has ten fans, then I am one of them. If Daenerys has only one fan then that is me. If Daenerys has no fans, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against Daenerys, then I am against the world.

Daenerys : ... will you please stop commenting that on every hate post that you see?

Y/N : Never!

Daenerys : What do I have to do so you'll stop?

Y/N : Nothing. This is my duty as your fan!

Daenerys : You're my wife.

Y/N : I can be both.

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callieyanderechan · 13 days

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Unlucky

Pairing: Dark Ramsay Bolton x (female) Reader

SUMMARY: Sadly you lose your baby. But what’s even worse is that it’s Ramsay’s baby.

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Miscarriage; Violence; Abusive Marriage; Threats.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Also this is the only angry Ramsay gif I could find 😅 hope you guys like it, it's a bit too dark.

“There were some…complications, my lord.”

Ramsay looks at you, eyes darting towards your covered middle. Your hands grip the bed sheet and you gulp as fear runs through you.

The agony of losing a child is defeated by the fear of whatever the future holds for you.

That’s what marriage with Ramsay resulted in. Nothing but fear and despair.

"The babe? Is it fine? What happened?” Ramsay inquires the maester, genuine concern displayed in his face.

The maester glances at you, his face falling into a bow, and you do the same, avoiding Ramsay’s eyes. The excruciating pain in your middle worsens with the panic you feel, tears starting to flood your eyes.

The silence perpetuates.

“No. No!” you close your eyes, small sobs escaping you upon Ramsay’s frustration. His voice growing in volume until it cracks, desperate howls of agony as he mourns over your dead child.

Your eyes opened in a fright as fingers painfully dig into your cheeks. Ramsay hovers over you, fury disfiguring his features.

“You…You little bitch! You did this.” He growls, eyes squinting with suspicion and your face snaps to the side with the force of his slap.

“You never wanted it, did you? My heir…my son.”

“No! Ramsay, please-“

Your pleas are rapidly interrupted with another smack, this one harsher. Your tongue tastes the blood of your torn lower lip but you know it’s only the beginning. His hand can go much harder than that.

“You killed my child, you vicious whore.” He accuses you, grabbing you by your hair, the sharp sting making you whimper.

The madness and rage that burns in his eyes terrifies you.

Ramsay spits in your face, the vigor of his hold increasing to the point that you can feel some of your roots giving up.

He gets closer and you stop your breathing.

“You’re going to suffer for this. When I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your own name. You’ll cry tears of blood and wish you were dead already.” he threatens you, his voice lowered to a whisper.

“And then you’re going to give me a child. A son. And another. And another. You’ll give me what I want. Over and over until you’re nothing more than my breeding bitch. That’s what you deserve.”

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callieyanderechan · 13 days

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Yandere! Daenerys Targaryen Headcanons

I've never watched Game of Thrones [GOT] so I'm sorry if this is OOC, but just know I tried my best. [I know a little bit about her from Tiktok Edits]

From the moment she saw you, she was enchanted and had to have you

She'll approach you bold and confident, hoping to catch not only your eye but maybe your hand as well

She doesn't care where you're from, even if you're a White Walker, she will take you and engrave you into the House of Targaryen

^ Her brother will see it as a betrayal, but she's quick to hush him up, saying he knows nothing of love

Loves when you call her Dany/Dannie, it makes her feel warm and special inside

Will braid your hair, telling you it's part of a tradition, whenever you win a tournament and battle, under the guise that it's easier for her to braid it

Would love if you braid her hair after winning a fight

It makes her feel closer to you and you're sharing a special moment

She hums to you while she braids it

Mostly lullabies

She turns you around when she's done braiding and looks at your face. She'll slowly caress your cheek, before putting some baby hairs behind your ear

^ She looks at you like you're the only person in the world

And to her, you are

Will take you riding on her dragons

At first you were scared, but she's quick to console you and tell you it'll be fine

God, she loves when you squeeze her tightly in fear of falling

Every rejection you send her way just makes her more determined

She's protective over you. If anyone dares threaten you, she will kill them. How dare they try and threaten the love of her life? They were asking for death

She would do anything for you, all you have to do is ask. You want a specific food? Well, she'll travel across the world to get it for you

Sometimes she doesn't think about her actions in full and can end up accidentally hurting you

In those moments, she becomes frustrated at herself for hurting you. She becomes angry and will profusely apologize

Speaking of anger, whenever she does become angry, especially when it's because she hurt you, someone always gets hurt. She has to hurt someone else to replace the feeling of guilt and shame from hurting you. She doesn't care who, just anyone besides you. Maybe even someone you dislike?

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callieyanderechan · 14 days

Text

Imagine:

Being the Frey girl betrothed to Robb Stark

Request: Yes or No

Did not intend for this to be long

~~~

It was supposed to be the perfect day. Many little ladies dreamt of their weddings, dreamily wondering about their future husbands and the family they'd create together. Your dreams of the perfect wedding had been brief, crushed quickly under the boot of your father, Walder Frey, and you were forced to accept that you'd be marrying out of duty rather than true love.

There'd been some hope and a spark of relief when your sisters had rushed to your bedchambers, giddy and eager to speak of your betrothed: Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell. He had visited briefly and been allowed his pick of the litter, but when he provided no response, your father chose for him. You knew of the Starks of Winterfell. They were an honorable family and close as could be. And from the accounts of your sisters, Robb was a handsome man. Young, handsome, eyes blue as sapphires, pretty brown hair, and incredibly polite. You hadn't seen him as you'd been occupied the day of his visit, but everything your sisters told you filled you with glee. An honorable, kind husband who you'd surely fall in love with.

Or so you thought.

You'd been there when one of Walder's men had requested his time and spoke of Robb. The words that followed had sent you reeling, stomach twisting and heart shattering. Robb had a lover. A healer from Volantis named Talisa Maegyr. Your father's rage had been brief, calming when the man assured him Robb still planned on wedding you. He hadn't broken his promise to House Frey, and that had been enough for your father. You shouldn't have been surprised. Walder himself had fostered many bastards throughout his countless marriages.

"A man has needs." He'd said, curling his bony fingers around his ale and bringing it to his mouth. He cared little for the tears forming in your eyes. "I cannot fault him for that."

You spent the rest of the day weeping in your room with your sisters around you, murmuring comforts and trying to brighten your day.

"You'll be Lady Stark and Queen of the North soon, dear sister." One had attempted, a brush delicately going through your hair. "His mistress will be just that. A mistress."

But it hadn't been that. No, you wept because a mistress before the wedding had even been planned meant a loveless marriage where you'd have to battle for your husband's attention, battle to ensure you had his child first. You'd seen firsthand how much a loveless marriage affected a bride. Your father had many wives after the death of your own mother, each of them young and full of light that dimmed with each passing day until they were a hollow and empty shell. You wept for what could've been a happy future far from the grim place you called home.

But the sadness turned to bitterness and anger over night. The Stark's prided themselves on being loyal and honorable, sticking to their oaths and promises even if it meant putting their own happiness aside. Why couldn't Robb done that for you? Why had he taken a lover so quickly after the announcement of your incoming wedding? He hadn't cared about how shameful it would be for you. How humiliating. You'd be known as Lady (Y/N) of Winterfell, the woman who'd been cast aside before ever meeting her husband.

The wedding date had arrived sooner than later, something you loathed. You stared at the reflection in the mirror as both maids and kin tended to you. They brushed your hair, powdered your face, and tightened the wedding dress to your body while fawning over how beautiful of a wedding it'd be. They praised you at the end, gushing over how pretty of a bride you'd be. They hadn't thought to realize that Robb would be envisioning his little healer in your place when you walked down the isle.

You ensured to keep a stoic expression throughout the ceremony, not even mustering a smile for your husband when he lifted the veil and took in your appearance. His eyes, as pretty as described, had widened considerably and flickered over to the pews where his family sat. The ends of his mouth had quirked up into a smile and he muttered a soft 'my lady' before turning to the Septon. You would've scoffed if it weren't for the stare Walder gave you.

The ceremony went by in a breeze and you kept your stoic, cool composure, even when your father had lowly whispered for you to smile after being seated. He no longer had control over you. You relished in the thought. The only good thing that had allowed for you to have an appetite as Starks, Freys, and other allies celebrated. You spent most of the celebration searching for her until you noticed Catelyn Stark speaking with a young woman who stared at Robb hopelessly. Talisa, you presumed from the frankly exasperated look on Catelyn's face. She was pretty, you'd give him that.

"Are you feeling well?" Robb asked quietly and reached for your hand, delicately placing his over it and staring at you with knitted brows. You pulled your hand away swiftly and set it on your lap, eyes moving onto your beloved sisters to keep your emotions in check.

"No." You answered after a brief pause. Robb was handsome, incredibly so, but his presence alone irritated you. You had to act quick before the bedding ceremony took place, a tradition your father insisted on keeping alive. "I feel unwell, Lord Stark. I'm afraid I'll be retreating early."

"Shall I go with-"

Rising from your seat, you shook your head, still refusing to meet his eyes. "No, My Lord. That will not be necessary." You carefully lifted your dress and breezed past your father, ignoring the glare he speared into your back as you glided down the steps and toward the exit.

Slipping out into the familiar halls, you exhaled deeply and released your gown. It dragged along the stone floor, dark gray clashing with white. You itched to get out of it as soon as possible. The thought of burning it crossed your mind but it felt too childish, too improper of a lady.

"My Queen." A voice echoed down the hall and you halted. Queen of the North and Lady Stark of Winterfell. Right. Your new titles. No longer one of Walder's many overlooked daughters. You looked over your shoulder, spotting her auburn hair first, a signature trait of the Tully family. Catelyn Stark.

"My Lady." You greeted her, turning to face the older woman. She smiled sweetly, gazing at you with the warmth of a mother. Catelyn grew closer and took your hands into hers, smile turning into a shamed smile.

"I am deeply sorry for what my son has done." Her voice sounded sincere, full of guilt and shame. She shook her head. "I taught him better than that. He knows better than that. But rest assured, that woman will not cause problems for you."

You'd nearly forgotten. Eddard Stark had returned home from the war with a bastard son called Jon Snow and raised him as a trueborn alongside the rest of his children. You remembered the murmured rumors of how Catelyn detested him and had fostered a particular dislike for bastards. Perhaps that dislike extended to mistresses.

"She may share his bed, that is true. But he is my husband now, and as his wife, I have duties that I will not forget. I can assure you, Lady Stark, I will give your son an heir and do what needs to be done for House Stark to prosper, just as you have done these many years." Her eyes softened considerably, fingers lightly squeezing the palms of your hands.

"Oh, sweet child." Catelyn cooed gently and brought a hand to your cheek. You yearned for your mother's embrace, her soothing words. You pressed your lips together to keep them from trembling. "You shall make a wonderful queen and a wonderful wife. I... I will ensure Robb does his duties as husband. You need not stress over Talisa."

"I appreciate it, Lady Stark. I'm afraid I'll be heading to my- our bedchambers for the rest of the night. Please assure everyone that I am well." You pulled your hands from hers and lowered your head in respect to the monarch before turning and resuming your walk down the hall.

Another deep breath and you reached the one of the many guest bedchambers. Most of your belongings had been packed up for you, likely already sitting in Robb's tent out on the field. You dismissed the servants that offered to help you ready for bed, only agreeing to have a warm bath drawn so you could relax after the day's events.

Slipping out of your wedding dress, you watched it slump on the cool floor and stepped out of your shoes. You released your hair and ran your fingers through it as you dipped one leg into the bath and then the other. The water dug into your skin, easing away at the tension in your muscles. A soft sigh of relief escaped past your lips, shoulders dipping below the surface. You leaned your head back against the wall of the tub, eyes fluttering shut and mind forgetting about the day.

You would've stayed in the tub for the rest of the night, even slept in it, if it hadn't been for the sound of the door creaking open. Your eyes snapped open and you lifted your head, gazing down at the water as heavy boots stepped across the room. Robb passed by the tub, shedding his coat and draping it over a chair. You brought your knees up to your chest when he turned.

"I thought you would've been asleep by now." He spoke softly, undoing the buttons of his vest. "Are you feeling better?"

The consummation. You nearly grimaced. "No."

"Should I call for a maester?"

"It's likely nerves, My Lord."

"We're husband and wife now. You may call me Robb." He gave a boyish smile and you turned to look at the towel perfectly folded on the stool beside you. You reached for it and let it unravel outside of the tub, eyes jumping back to the Stark. Robb's fingers had paused on the last button, attention trained fully on you but when he noticed the icy look, he turned his back. You stood, the water sloshing around as you dried yourself and retrieved a nightgown.

"I would like to sleep in my old room tonight. It's likely the last time I'll see it."

"I'd like to believe that, (Y/N). But I am no fool. I am your husband, you may speak openly with me." Your jaw clenched at his words. He claimed to be no fool yet remained oblivious to your anger. "And I hope you'll grow comfortable enough to sleep at my side."

Picking up a candle, you lifted it to the lantern keeping the room lit and pulled away once the fire flickered onto the end of the wax. "I believe your lover would prefer otherwise, My Lord. I bid you goodnight."

He blinked. "(Y/N)-"

"I bid you goodnight."

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callieyanderechan · 15 days

Text

T A L I A ♡

this is a .package file , so all you have to do is put it in your mods folder !! the custom content i used is included , all credits go to the creators ! ♡ please do not claim her as your own !!

-ˏˋ⋆ download link ⋆ˊˎ- http://www.simfileshare.net/download/4513478/

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callieyanderechan · 15 days

Text

Fuckie Fuckon

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callieyanderechan · 15 days

Text

Suzanne Collins gripping my face with her hands: listen listen the first step to evil is dehumanisation, always, the second you start to see people as less than people no matter what they've done to you that's when you start heading down a path of selfish destruction and violence

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callieyanderechan · 15 days

Text

Family dinner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova, platonic!Kate Bishop x f!reader

Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour

Summary: your best friend Kate needs backup after a mishap with Yelena's family

Masterlist

“I need you here yesterday!”

“What?” You whisper-shout, looking around the office to make sure no one noticed you ducking away to take a call from your best friend.

“Please, I'm desperate! I can't do this alone, they're like sharks and I just spilled blood!”

“Kate, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Yelena's family! They're scary as shit on a good day, but now we messed up real bad, and I think they're gonna decapitate me,” she whines.

“Okay, let's backtrack. What did you do?”

“...”

“Kate?”

There's shuffling on the other side, a deep sigh and then, “Melina found the handcuffs. With the fur. They were still attached to the bed.”

You snort, loud enough to attract annoyed looks from your coworkers. “Happens to the best of-”

“And the whip. It was on the bed too.”

You chortle, this time not caring about your surroundings, and swiftly move further down the hall. “She knows Yelena's a big girl, she can ha-”

“Natasha was there too!”

You stop in your tracks. Now that's interesting.

“She'll never let you forget it,” you say with all the confidence you have, even though you've never met the woman before. You know just enough from what Kate and Yelena told you to be sure of that.

“She's not letting me forget it now! She got all sneaky and secretive, whispering with Melina and looking at me, and now I'm on my way to a family dinner. A family dinner with my girlfriend's family, while said girlfriend got called away on some emergency mission,” she huffs angrily.

“There's no emergency mission, is there?”

“There better be!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. It's never a boring day with Kate Bishop.

“So,” she starts, aiming for a nonchalant tone, “I'm downstairs.”

“What?”

“Yep. Waiting for you at the front. Better hurry, parking is expensive as hell.”

“Kate.”

“I'm your bestie. And my girlfriend's mom found the handcuffs. I need you.”

You check the time, noting that the workday is nowhere near it's end. With a sigh, you head for the elevator, not even bothering to come back for your bag.

“I love you.”

“I haven't agreed to-”

“I know what that sigh means!”

You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”

×××

Turns out, Yelena's family is even scarier then you imagined.

“So, Y/n,” Melina starts, looking at you like you're one of her lab rats, “Do you usually leave your… sexual… stuff after you're done?”

You turn red, choking on the wine. Kate sends you a look of pity.

Natasha smirks.

“I don't… I'm not sure- Um. Well, no.”

Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”

She digs into her food, and you exhale in relief, feeling like the worst part is over.

“So where do you keep your stuff, Y/n?” Natasha asks over the rim of her glass, her eyes full of mischief.

Kate slides lower in her seat, boring holes into her fork.

Melina perks up, once again regarding you like one of her subjects. “I would also like to know. To pass the advice to my daughter and her girlfriend.”

You gulp.

“Well?” Natasha prompts.

You shudder from the intensity of the look she's giving you.

“Can we move on?” Kate whispers, looking around nervously.

“Yes, of course,” Melina nods, her eyes lighting up like she was waiting for a subject change.

Natasha sends Kate an amused smile, and you relax slightly. Now the worst part is over, you're sure.

“So, Y/n-”

Fuck.

“-are you single?”

You nod, shoving a forkful of some meat salad - which mostly consists of mayonnaise - to avoid talking.

“And you're gay, correct?” Melina asks, peering into your very soul.

You nod again, chewing fast.

“Why are you gay?”

You choke on a piece of potato, wheezing and reaching for a glass of water. Kate almost falls of her chair in haste to smack you on the back. Natasha just looks at her mother, unimpressed. “Really?”

“What?” Melina shrugs. “I'm a scientist, I'm conducting research.”

The redhead groans, rubbing her eyes. “Of course.”

You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.

Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.

You sigh, “Are you gay?”

She blinks, looking like an owl. Natasha chokes on a laugh, sending you a look of appreciation. Kate mutters something about bathroom and darts out of the room, hopefully to call Yelena and fix all this mess.

“Well,” Melina starts, deep in thought. “I suppose I've never given it much of a thought.”

You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.

“Natasha.” The older woman turns abruptly. “You are gay.”

The redhead groans, sliding down in her seat. “Mother, please.”

“She's gay, and you're gay. You're both miserably single.”

“Huh?” You frown, affronted.

“Fuck my life,” Natasha mumbles into the table, her face pressed tight against it in a feeble effort of disappearing.

“Yelena's on her way!” Kate walks back into the room, triumphant.

“Finally,” you sigh, pointedly looking at the ceiling to avoid Melina's penetrative gaze. “Where's she, by the way?”

“Hiding, probably,” Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “Escaped the scene of crime and left her girlfriend to pick up the mess.” She raises her glass in Kate's general direction, “You're doing good so far, Bishop. Even brought reinforcement - good thinking.”

“Yes-yes,” Melina nods, her eyes darting between you three. “Yelena's a bit of a coward in that regard, but we have an important matter to discuss.”

Natasha glares at her mother. “No, we don-”

“Natasha can cook. Well, she can microwave.”

“What did I miss?” Kate frowns, settling back into her seat. “Actually, no. I don't want to know.”

“As I was saying,” Melina clears her throat, paying no mind to the murderous look Natasha sends her. You'd feel gleeful at that - Natasha's plan came back to bite her in the ass - if you weren't the other victim in this scenario. “Natasha can cook. She's excellent with knives. She's an excellent shot. She can dismantle a bomb in a matter of seconds. She's a… a catch.”

You smile at the miserable expression on Natasha's face, her cheeks dusted with pink.

“Oh…” Kate whispers, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “Well, actually, Y/n is-” she yelps loudly when your heel connects with her toes, and turns bright red at the shooting pain. “-a bitch. She's a bitch.”

The look in Melina's eyes turns gleeful. “That was excellent.”

Fucking hell, no matter what you do, your grave turns deeper and deeper.

Natasha snorts, chugging her wine like it's water. Melina's mouth opens again, and you say a stupid thing to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Can we go back to Kate's handcuffs, please,” you mutter with a sigh.

The look of betrayal your friend sends you doesn't work the way she intended, because you don't feel guilty at all.

Melina's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening. The sight alone tells you you said the wrong thing.

“Have you and Kate ever-”

“No!” you both shout, before the older woman can finish the question.

“Sounds defensive,” Natasha chuckles, reaching for the bottle of vodka.

“Wha- What?” You hiss, glaring at the spy.

“She's- Y/n’s not even my type! And I'm not her type either!” Kate splutters.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, “that I can see.”

You gape, not sure if you're supposed to be offended. “What?”

Natasha smirks, planting her chin on her fist. “You need a firm hand. Your best friend is anything, but firm.”

Her eyes trail down your body, pupils darkening ever so slightly. Your cheeks burn and, suddenly, it's hard to breathe. You clear your throat and gulp down the last of your wine, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“O-okay. That's- okay, yep,” Kate mutters to herself. “Fuck my life.”

“Am I wrong?” Natasha husks, reaching across the table to play with the golden bracelet on your wrist.

Really, right in front of her mother?

The front door opens with a loud bang, and you jump up, relieved to see Yelena. The feeling doesn't last long, because a second later you notice the bleeding wound on her torso.

“So that was an actual mission,” you mumble, missing the way Natasha snorts in your haste to get Yelena to the couch.

Kate looks pale, but swiftly starts helping Yelena undress. Melina's ready with the first aid kid by the time they finally tear off the shirt.

“So?” Natasha whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Am I wrong?”

Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.

“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”

She hums, satisfied. “I am miserably single, you know?"

You let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to quiet down when Yelena sends you a murderous look.

“I am miserably single, too.”

She smiles, nodding to herself.

“Want to fix that?” She asks after a bit, her eyes glinting in the soft evening light.

“They'll never shut up about it,” you groan, stepping closer to her.

“Yeah,” she hums, her grin stretching wider. “So?”

"A little help?" Yelena wheezes, glaring daggers at the two of you. "Hello? Your sister is dying."

“Yes,” you reply, not taking your eyes away from her green pools.

“Perfect,” she breathes, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

"Fucking unbelievable," Yelena mutters and yelps when Melina shushes her with a pinch and a hissed "don't ruin my hard work".

Kate just looks like she's about to faint.

You grin. "I can't wait."

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