#dark!fic
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Winter's King 1
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: this one came out of no where.
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It’s uncharacteristically grim on the plains of Debray. Rains pelt the tall green grasses, flattening them in a slanted downpour that dims the horizon. Clouds blot out the daylight and lend to atmosphere of unease in the warring lands.
Behind the castle walls, one can forget about the bloodshed staining the counties red, though it is all the dukes and his audience can speak of. The lords that bluster through those gates, sometimes at the toll of morning, some in the black swathes of night. You can’t count them all, you can name even fewer, but they come anon and leave just as brusquely.
A peel of thunder shakes the land and a dark line limns the curve of the horizon. What appears first as a storm cloud advances quickly through the fields, appearing more clearly to the naked eye, distant nonetheless. Men. Another party fast on the approach.
The alarm goes up at a man’s holler. Ethred, man at the gate hollers to the other men in mail. Niam peers out from the vantage of the tower and calls back down. A hush falls and bodies scurry all around, metal clinking and boots crunching. There’s something amiss. Something you can’t quite place.
You turn away from the window, the steam rising from the basin in your hand swirling around your head. You carry on down the corridor, wool skirts around cautious steps as you balance the swaying water in the vessel. You approach the lady’s door and give it a rap with your knee. Merinda, another handmaid, opens it from within.
You enter without a word and place the basin on the vanity table. The duke’s daughter preens herself with a painted fan, fluttering her lashes at her reflection as her curls spill down her long back. She tilts her head this way and that. She snaps the fan shut and puts it down, touching her soft brown cheeks with a devilish grin.
“Do you know what father mentioned last eve?” Jazlene asks with a vain flutter of her lashes.
“What did he mention?” Her mother, Lady Rezlyn prompts lazily as she plucks another cherry from a dish heaped in fruit.
“A husband,” the daughter grins coyly at herself, “it is well due, isn’t it, mother? Who do you think it might be? Lord Gai, perhaps? He is young still.”
“Perhaps the Earl of Mesafin,” her mother taunts back to a disgusted gasp.
“Do not,” Jazlene pouts, “I could never... I am much too pretty for that haggard beast.”
“Well, then, who might you have, precious?” Rezlyn goads.
There is a clamour in the hall that keeps the younger of the woman from answering. She rolls her eyes and darkly glare at the door. You peer back behind your shoulder as a wail goes up carrying her father’s name; ‘Lord Dustan!’
“What is all that?” Jazlene whines, “as if it isn’t enough with the rain and the winds. It is summer!”
“It’s always summer in Debray, darling,” Rezlyn scoffs, “otherwise I’d have never married your father. Pray you don’t hook yourself a winter lord.”
You peek over your shoulder as you stand near the door, in your vigil, awaiting your next order. You face the ladies again as the elder continues to feast and the younger fusses over her thick brows. You scrunch your lips back and forth, a habit that often has your jaw aching.
Jazlene turns to narrow her eyes at you, “what is it then? What has you making faces?”
You bow your head, appeasing her ego, “my lady, there were men coming. A party approaching from the north.”
“There are always men,” she shakes her head, “who was it then? Anyone I should wear silk for?”
Her mother laughs, “I warn you, daughter, that trite tongue will not endear any husband.”
“I do not know, lady,” you answer.
“Ugh, useless, must I work as my own handmaid?” Jazlene tisks, “come, pin my hair. Merinda find me a gown. Mother... wipe the dribble from your chin.”
“Eh, watch yourself,” Lady Rezlyn rises and wipes her lips with her sleeve. She wears muslin in a dark shade of burgundy, embroidered with little copper finches. “Or hope you marry above me before you lash that tongue at me.”
Jazlene merely trills with laughter. You take the pins and work at twisting her fine curls into place. Merinda brings to her a dress of teal satin and is promptly shooed away, “something pink. It brings out my bosom.”
You ignore her bawdy jest as her mother harrumphs. You work in quiet tandem with the other handmaid. You add a touch of paint to the lady’s cheeks and kohl around her eyes. You tint her lips with pigment and she pushes out her lips at the mirror. You help Merinda dress her, pulling the noble daughter’s corset tight enough to leave her lightheaded.
The pair of ladies, elder and younger, leave the chamber with you at their skirt tails. They sweep through the corridors with chins up. They are queens in their own minds. Their fine dresses and sparkling gems are untouched by the disparity of war. The lives lost are squares on a game board, tawdry talk for men in their studies.
“Lord Dustan,” Lady Rezlyn mimics the earlier call for the lord of the castle, “my husband. Dear, dear husband!”
The women go to the banister and look down upon the great hall as the flurry continues below. You and Merinda loom behind, not daring to stand at a level with the pompous nobles. You have never volunteered yourself for their impetuous lashings.
“Woman!” Dustan booms back up, “do not trouble me now.”
“Oh, has another lord come? Perhaps a suitor for our lovely daughter--”
“Cease!” The duke demands hotly, “now is not the time for womanly games.”
“Tell me it true, husband, she will be an old maid before you find a suiting son-in-law--”
“Go away to your chambers. Now. The men who come are not to be trifled with and you lot do trifle overly much!”
“Bah! Oh do not be so uncouth!” Rezlyn decries.
“Father, please, is it a husband?”
“Go before I send my guards up to put you away like thieves in a dungeon. Hear me when I warn you that this does not concern you. Not as yet,” Dustan snarls, “you would spoil this war with your puny concerns.”
“Ugh,” his wife puts her hand to her forehead, “he does tax me. All I ask of him is to take care of us, daughter. As any husband should.”
“I should have your lips sewn shut!” Dustan rebukes hotly, “be gone before I find a tailor.”
The women share an aghast look. The turn back to flutter away in their skirts. You and Merinda follow them to the drawing room, closing them in as they fall onto the velvet cushions. Jazlene reclines dramatically on the chaise as her mouth mopes on a sofa.
“Shall I be alone forever, mother?” Jazlene snivels, “why won’t he let me marry?”
“He only wants to find the right man, that is all, darling,” Rezlyn coaxes. “He is overprotective and that is good for it means he will find a husband for you with a similar bearing.”
“Such sweet words cannot convince me. He punishes me. When all my lady friends have wed and borne a whelp or two, I remain with the dust and stone.”
“Do not be theatrical,” Rezlyn girds, “you are silly.”
“I am not silly, mother. I am afraid. I am twenty and three and I have no suitor. I have only a war butchering any man who might have my hand. Why must this go on? Why must I suffer for the gripes of stubborn kings.”
“We cannot fear. This war will be won and you will have a knight for a husband. Isn’t that better? To have a warrior you can be proud of than some bookish lord in his tower?” Rezlyn stands and moves to sit with her daughter, petting her as she cooes, “oh my beautiful, no man can resist you. You will see.”
⚔️
Some hours pass with the restless women, pacing and chattering, about careless things beyond marriage and war. Like needlework and a banquet that should be had upon the truce. Would that the day would come sooner.
You and Merinda stifle yawns that pass between you. The act is contagious as you stand in the tedium of the wealthy and wait for a duty to be called upon you. The hours you spend watching the women preen and swoon make you envy the stable boys and the shit shovelers.
The noise beyond those walls continues. You heard the moat open and the clopping hooves of horses, even the clatter of carts. The voices had since hushed but footfalls carried back and forth. The wordless activity betrays an air of impatience, almost of nervousness. As the ladies within mirror the sentiment.
Finally, as the windows darken and the candles burn brighter, a knock shakes the door. The ladies snap their heads around. Merinda is asleep on her feet as you move first. You open to a man in grey and black waits on the other side. He is not Lord Dustan’s.
“The duchess and her daughter,” he garbles through a mouth that sounds full of salt.
You dip your head and look to the ladies in question. There is a tension, of unease, of unknowing, of excitement turned to dread. This is not as it has been. There is not call to the dinner table. There is no buoyant introduction of a lord Dustan met as a young scamp. There is silence and fear. Has someone died? Has a battle been lost?
The women emerge and greet the man with niceties and tight-lipped simpers. He does not pay them heed as you and Merinda exchange looks. You trail after the ladies but the man stops. He turns back, a hand on the pommel at his waist, and sneers, a furrow in his brow.
“One of ya,” he grits.
Jazlene says your name. She must’ve noticed Merinda swaying on her feet. If she even cares so much about a maid. You keep your head down and follow as they press on. Down the corridor and around the duke’s study, recently deemed his war room. You’ve never been within. It is not the domain of women.
The grey and black soldier thumps on the door. Mother and daughter clasp hands. Even they can sense the unusual frigidity. The door opens from within. It is Lord Dustan. He wears a serious look on his lined face. The ladies are beckoned in and the soldier nudges you after them as you hesitate.
Lanterns light the space from the desk at the rear of the chamber. The large table draped in maps, wooden horses, and little wooden pucks stands central on a thick rug. A figure stands behind it, head down as his burly and broad silhouette seems to sop up the shadows.
The ladies follow the duke to stand across from the man. His head is down as he slides a horse along a road on the map. He stops it and grips it tight. He looks up and the lantern light dances on his features. You suck in a breath, as the rest do, stunned by his appearance.
His hair is white, his eyes are a goldish yellow, pupils deep pools of black, and his square jaw is just as thick as the rest of him. You have never seen a man like him before, but you have heard of one. Of him. King Geralt of Rivia.
You stand in similar confusion to the ladies. Their silent confoundment is broken by Duke Dustan as he nears the table. He sniffs and presses his fingers to the table top.
“Your highness, my wife, Lady Rezlyn, and my daughter, Lady Jazlene,” he introduces.
The women glance at each other then curtsy to the white king. He watches them dully. You fold your hands, taking it in curiously. It is rather something to witness the scene. You are so unimportant as to not be a part of it.
“Your highness,” the recite, “it is...”
“An honour,” Dustan finishes for them, “of course it is. We fondly welcome you and your allyship. We hope that we will be essential in ending this war. In helping you attain the peace you have so valiantly fought for--”
The king raises his hand to silence the lord. You can’t help but quork your head. Allyship? But King Geralt, he is of Rivia, he is of the hinterland, he is the one who invaded the summer country and bid it his own. He is the foe. That is what they told you.
“Enough...” the king speaks in a silty tone that scrapes in his throat. His eyes wander over the women and narrow. You wince as your own meet his golden irises and you shy away, putting your chin to your chest. That’s a mistake. “...words.” He slaps his hand down, “you do not win wars with words.”
“Yes, your highness, you are correct. I know it well. It is why I invited you here. It is the very reason I made my entreaty. You have my men, they will win this war for you.”
The king is hardly impressed by the fact. He looks back to the table and moves the horse further before turning it back. He knocks it over and stands completely straight.
“And the daughter of Debray, your highness. To have a wife of summer’s blood, men will bend the knee. If you show them you do not mean to eradicate but to join with them,” Dustan moves to stand closer to his daughter, “isn’t she a fine queen for a fine kingdom?”
Jazlene swoons and falls against her father. She’s fainted. Rezlyn grabs onto her other shoulder and you peek up at the chaotic scene. You come forward to help, snatching a pillow from the single couch, and you place it under Jazlene’s head as they lay her down on the floor.
A shadow shifts as Dustan and Rezlyn fuss over their daughter, fanning and calling to her. You look up as darkness clusters over you. You see the king staring down at the scene. No, not them. He staring at you. Before he can reprimand you, you put your head down.
You must quit that lest you find yourself at the wrong end of a switch.
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt of rivia#dark!geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia x reader#the witcher#winter's king#au#medieval au#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series
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It Was All A Lie - LN
Dark fic - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS
Summary: Lando knew she was a die hard romantic, gullible to a few sweet moments and pretty whispers for her to be in the palm of his hand. She just made it so so easy.
Warnings/themes: Smut (choking, toys, cockwarming, semi public, mention of it being used for "punishment"), toxic/controlling behaviour (physical, financial, digital and mental), slut-shaming, isolation, some sexism towards the end, but equally kind of soft Lando at moments (but don't mistake that as him being nice)
No part 2 requests please
Y/n likes to watch edits from fans of her and Lando, old videos and clips of them together and what they used to be. What he tricked her into thinking was how he'd always be.
That feels like a lifetime ago and even though she gets glimpses of that side, it's no more than a performance for other people to believe that he's still that sweet, caring, cute boyfriend who charms the world with a wink and a smile.
She'd love to have that boyfriend back.
There's rules now with her fiancé.
Permission has to be given before she can talk to certain people. She doesn't have her own money. Lando has access to her phone and usually carries it for her. Any post on social media goes through him first. She goes where he goes and if she can't then she stays where he tells her to.
Now she's dependent on him. How could she possibly imagine going back to life without him?
She's his. Completely.
"Y/n, you're not going out in that. Jesus, why don't you just invite every man in the paddock to try and fuck you?" Lando scolds as y/n finishes pulling on a skirt.
Y/n looks down at the skirt, it's maybe a little shorter than she'd ideally have liked. But she didn't think it would earn such an extreme reaction.
"It's new. I didn't realise how short it was." Y/n mumbles making Lando get up and seem to pick through her clothes then holding out a dress. One she's worn before, and one he always smiles seeing her wear. "You always pick that one."
"You always look good in it without looking like you're trying to hop on every dick you can get hold of." Lando shrugs then moving his hand up. "I just don't want every man out there thinking I got you because you're easy...and I don't want them thinking they can take you because you're easy."
"I know." Y/n smiles lightly before she feels him push her skirt off leaving it to pool at her feet.
"How do they feel?" He asks almost absently while pulling off her top.
"Heavy, I'm scared they're going to fall out." Y/n mumbles as he hums running his finger knuckles down the length of her torso before he slides his fingers on the lips of her pussy, tips wet just from the touch.
"Well I think we can figure out why." Lando comments making her swallow. "At least I know they work the way I want them to work. I can have you whenever I want you with these."
Using kegal balls was, of course, Lando's idea. He's not a stranger to toys and he decided using them through the day might be a fun way to keep y/n on edge throughout the day.
-
"Y/n's is busy, but I'll make sure she gets back to you when she has the chance." Lando states into her phone while she looks at him.
"No! I'm sick of calling her number and you picking up the phone. Let me to talk to my best friend, Lando!" Y/f/n's shouts through the phone.
"Fine. But she won't want to talk to you for long." Lando sighs holding the phone out to y/n who looks at it like it's a foreign object. "Go on, she wants to talk to you."
Y/n takes the phone and sighs.
"Y/f/n, I'm kind of trying to sleep." Y/n mumbles making her laugh loud and dryly.
"I haven't heard from you in nearly 2 months-I spoke to your mum and she said she's got 5 texts in the past 4 months since you got in engaged and you don't want to talk to me because you're trying to sleep."
"I've been busy." Y/n sighs watching Lando move around, he won't watch her but she's not naive enough to believe he's not listening with pricked ears. Y/n tolerates a few minutes of ranting from her friend before she actually manages to fall asleep.
Being in a timezone that she's just not altered to and y/f/n having managed to talk without interruption.
Lando actually stops to look and smirks in amusement that y/n has really stopped bothering to try at all when it comes to people beyond him.
Which is good because he's all she needs.
"You've successfully bored y/n to sleep with your nonstop shouting. Bye, y/f/n." Lando states hanging up the call before she can speak again. "Fucking bitch."
He sighs sliding y/n's phone into his pocket before he sighs looking at y/n, throwing the blanket over her and kissing her temple.
His possessive and toxic behaviour that rose to the surface after felt like he had her safely stuck with him. She might change him for the way that he is, but he's perfectly happy with the way he is. But there is moments where he really does show that same amount of love and care that y/n fell for.
Because the truth is that he's the way he is because he never wants to lose her, he never wants anyone to get between them and he never wants anyone else to hurt her the way he knows they could. That's why he cuts her contact, that's why he controls her social media and that's why he tries to make sure she never gets attention from other people.
"Lan?" Y/n mumbles catching his attention though she's only just peaking through almost closed eyes. "Can you lie with me?"
See? Moments like this he knows that he might not treat her like everyone thinks is acceptable but he's certainly keeping her happy enough to want him there without him having to force it upon her.
"I will in a couple minutes. I just need to do one more thing." Lando promises moving to finish up with some messages he needed to sort out and check that his photos from his camera are uploading before he sighs and pulls off his clothes.
He manages to pull her over, reaching down between them before she finally stirs enough again to actually help. Lifting herself enough before she slides down on his dick, slotting them together before she nuzzles down against him again.
"I love you." Y/n mumbles feeling Lando's hands finger tips run up and down her back each hand up and down either side of her spine which really lulls her to sleep.
"I love you too." Lando whispers knowing that she's pretty much out for the count.
-
Y/n knows better than to test Lando. It's not big and it's not clever, so any time people even come close to having a full conversation with her, she finds any possible excuse to get out of there quickly.
"You look like you're having fun." Carlos comments catching her attention as she tries to rush through the paddock.
Y/n started dating Lando long after the Spaniard and Lando were teammates but because of their closeness, there's no denying that the two are close but that doesn't make Carlos any less of a threat when it comes to pissing Lando off.
"I am-sorry, Carlos. I'm in a rush." Y/n smiles trying to be polite but hasty.
"Ah no, you go. Go. Go." Carlos nods but as soon as she's turned, he's frowning at the fact she's actually always rushing off.
Y/n is rarely no in a rush and no one is really sure the last time they had a real conversation with her. Though admittedly few of the drivers interact with each other's girlfriends. Hell the girlfriends usually interact with each other more than the drivers interact with each other's girlfriends.
When she gets to Lando, he's sitting in the communal area with a half eaten meal in front of him.
"Hey, baby. Where you been?" Lando asks making her smile a little.
"I had to grab something from the hotel and I forgot my phone was with you." Y/n sighs making him hum and nod before he leans over to kiss her. "I tried to be quick."
"You're alright baby." Lando smiles earning a slightly settled not and sigh. "Did you get what you needed?"
"Yeah." Y/n hums before she looks at Lando for a moment then he seems to notice what she grabbed.
"Are you wearing my jacket?" He questions with a quirked smirk.
"It's cold." Y/n mumbles earning a nod before he notices the time.
"Ah, I have to go. Qualifying prep. But I'll see you later, ok?"
"Ok." Y/n smiles with a small nod. "Can I come watch in the garage?"
"Yeah, of course you can." Lando nods leaning over to kiss her again before he rushes off. Seemingly in a pretty good mood to see y/n dressed up in his jacket. It's something that works as a reminder of who she belongs to.
As if the heavy platinum ring encrusted with diamonds haloing around a sapphire doesn't make her status obvious and impossible to miss.
Y/n smiles the whole time standing in the garage as Lando goes out for qualifying.
Even before Lando was in her life. Y/n loved F1, so actually being a WAG is without a doubt a dream for her. Even if it's not quite how she really imagined it going.
When qualifying is done, y/n moves to his drivers room. Knowing better than to get herself caught in the post-quali chaos.
Lando is on the second row but there's something about his mood over the radio and in interviews that makes her feel like he's not the happiest man in the world.
He gets to his drivers room after media and ahead of the debrief with a storm behind his eyes.
"We're leaving as soon as the debrief is done." Lando states making her swallow thickly and nod.
By the time y/n is in the car with him for the short journey to the hotel, his hand is shamelessly pressed between her thighs. Is sex a healthy outlet in a bad mood? Not necessarily, but damn is it effective and the pay off for both of them is a 10 out of 10.
His free hand comes up to cover her mouth when she tries to choke back a moan soaking his hand and the seat beneath her as an orgasm hits.
Thankfully the driver is either a very respectful man or just so focused on the traffic he's not noticed but he's not paying any visible attention to the two passengers in the back seats.
"Lando, my dress." Y/n stresses when they pull up since her dress has taken collateral damage from their indiscretions.
"There's no fans there, just walk in front of me." Lando mutters climbing out and waiting for her to follow looking very panicked about the fact the seat is also fairly soaked. "Y/n, now."
Y/n swallows moving with him out of the car before he throws his backpack over a shoulder then pulling y/n in front of him as he walks closely behind her.
As soon as they as in the lift, she finds herself with his hand at her neck and his lips pressed to hers. Her body practically weak at his touch, plus as much as she shouldn't be turned on by someone's hand around her throat, she's almost fighting a second orgasm just from the heat of his touch.
When the lift stops on their floor, he somehow manages to navigate them to his room almost without breaking the kiss the whole time.
He only releases her momentarily when she's pushed back onto the bed, Lando wasting no time in thrusting into her finally earning a loud moan before his hand is back on her throat. He practically uses his hold on her to keep her in place as he seems to spend any remaining energy from the day on her.
"Fucking hell, y/n." Lando groans tightening his hold slightly which does restrict her air ways a little, though not enough to completely cut it. Out of habit she does bring her own hand up to hold his wrist, maybe her own way of feeling some control despite there being no way she could overpower him in the moment.
He's always in control.
Skin slapping and Lando's groans combine with her own whimpers and moans fill the room before his free hand finds her clit again and she arches up, feeling his hand tighten again finally cutting her air as he feels her sucking him impossibly deeper as he groans humming inside her before sighing as he ruts a couple times finally release her neck as her strokes down her body then finally pulling out and flopping down beside her.
After getting in the shower together and cleaning up, Lando sighs checking their phones then frowning and rolling his eyes at her phone which makes her look over but not dare to try and peak at the screen.
"Your parents called. Like 10 times, I don't know what their problem is." Lando mutters shaking her head while she bites her tongue.
Her parents problem is that they never hear from her but they see evidence of her being alive. They don't understand why she goes so long without contacting them.
Some days she really wants to go home to them. But even if she did have access to the money to pay for a ticket home, Lando would cancel it before she had the chance to get on the flight and even just the joke of an idea that she might be able to go straight to the airport, he makes sure that she has no idea where her passport is.
"You know you don't need them when you've got me." Lando sighs moving towards her again and tipping her chin up do she needs his gaze. "You know that."
"I know." Y/n swallows thickly hating that the good moments are always shrouded by his dark reminders that he's not going to stop till he really is all she has left in the world. No doubt that will change when they have kids but those kids will only have her and him too. "I love you."
"I love you too." Lando smiles stroking her cheek his thumb. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm good. Proud of you for qualifying, I know you were happy but I think you did well." Y/n smiles earning a hum but there's something else that is clearly lingering in his mind and his expression is not one that can be considered positive in anyway.
A silence falls as they look at each other for a while then he speaks again.
"I want you to stay in the hotel room tomorrow for the race. I've told you I don't want you talking to people around the paddock, especially the other drivers."
"-I didn't." Y/n chokes out though she knows it's a lie. Even if she didn't really maintain conversations with anyone, Carlos and Daniel both tried chatting with her. That's a big no-no.
"Don't lie to me, y/n." Lando scoffs his hand going back down to her throat. "If you can't be trusted to listen to me, then I'll give you no other choice. You're staying here."
"I'm sorry." Y/n mumbles knowing there's no point in actually trying to argue. It'll fall on the deaf ears and only land her in being tied up and left probably freshly "fucked dumb" as he likes to call it when he pushes her limits of pleasure into pain from overstimulation. That's when she's most compliant, too exhausted and brain seemingly melted her into a babbling mess begging for forgiveness and promising to never do whatever wrongdoing she's done.
"You're always sorry." Lando states making her swallow because she hates it when he says that.
As if he sorry is insincere.
"We're going to get married soon and you need to start acting like a loyal wife. Not some slut any man can take." Lando grumbles making tears gather in her eyes and when one escapes he wipes it away. "If you'd just learn how to behave like I want then we wouldn't have to go through this time and time again."
"I know. I'll be better." Yn whispers not even sure how she can be better without flat out ignoring anyone who speaks to her. "I just don't want people to think I'm rude."
"What I think is the only thing that matters. Why do you care what other people think? Are you going to marry them? Spend your life with them? Have kids with them? No. So be concerned more about what I'm thinking. I'm the one fucking you, lying next you in bed every night, paying for you to live. I don't want anymore excuses. Or I'll be keeping you in Monaco and you can stay there permanently."
The only threat bigger than Lando keeping her by his side or in the hotel, not even letting her leave one apartment at all and if she tried to leave, just the thought of what he might do makes her spine straighten.
#f1#fanfic#formula 1#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#ln4 x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando#lando x reader#norris#lando norris mclaren#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fic#dark!lando norris#dark!fic#dark!f1#dark lando norris#dark f1#dark f1 fic#lando norris one shot#ln4 one shot#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 smut#lando norris smut#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n
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[ playing dangerous ]
a/n: this is my first ever fic so pls be kind!! also not proofread so any mistakes i apologise.
— warnings : dark fic (18+), joel isn’t what you think in this, domestic abuse! (not joel), drugging, dom!joel, big!joel/small!reader, age gap (not mentioned but it’s there, around 26 years), kidnap if you squint ig. + plus tommy.
“Joel it’s all kickin’ off next door man”
Tommy’s voice filled his ears through the phone as he sighed… not again… surely.
“What this time?”
“It’s that dude, I ain’t gotta clue what his problem is but she’s gettin’ the brunt of it yet again” Tommy’s eyes scanned through the blinds that were peeled apart by his fingers, peering into your window trying to get a good visual of what was going on.
This had been going on for the past few months, your boyfriend Rick had a bad gambling addiction… and based on his results you’d either get pounded brutally into the bed as his victory celebration, despite your cries. Or… like today; a hissy fit which every time without fail, resulted in bruises and tears, as his anger at his loss seemed to be all your fault.
This time; tommy could hear the heavy thuds of furniture being thrown across rooms, and twinkles of glass that smashed beneath your feet. He could hear the soft whimpers and sobs that left your body as Rick practically screamed at you.
“it’s all your fault you fuckin’ bitch, you make me do this”
“Joel what do i do, man? I can’t jus’ leave er’”
“Stay where you are, I’m comin’ home”
Joel hung up the phone and got into his pick-up truck and began the short drive home; he knew you were a sweetheart, a soft innocent angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly. You always smiled at him and even once baked him cookies, which he admired for a good few days before throwing his diet out the window, consuming the gooey chocolate chip delights you made. He couldn’t understand why you stayed, why you let Rick treat you the way he did. He also couldn’t understand how Rick could treat you such a way.
Maybe you were secretly an awful person, he thought… or hoped. Because the thought of someone as kind and caring as you receiving the exact opposite just because of the fact that you won’t fight back killed him inside. He refused to admit the feeling of jealousy that ached inside of him; but he often thought of what it’d be like to hold you at night, to be the man to make you smile, to wipe away your tears instead of being the dick that caused them.
His anger grew more and more as he approached his driveway, speeding up a bit as he swerved in and pulled to a halt, the tires screeching against the concrete. He threw open his door and made the short walk to your front porch, knuckles thumping against the wood as he waited for a response… that was when he realised… silence.
He banged again and called your name this time, willing you for a response. You could’ve heard a pin drop, and it was scaring him.
He was just about to kick the door down when he heard the lock of the door flick, and watched as it slowly peeled open, too slow.
“Joel?” your cracking voice called his name and he could’ve burst into tears himself.
“Sweetheart, ya’ alright?” he pushed open the door a little more to get a view of your face, and god he wished he hadn’t.
“Honey” He sighed, eyeing the swelling bruise that imprinted itself onto your cheek, the redness of your face from crying just intensifying it.
“Joel, please just go” you kept yourself hidden, yes, Rick was gone. He walked out as soon as he was finished releasing his stress, with the words “i’ll be back later” but you still felt the quivers of fear make their way through your body.
“I can’t do that, you know i can’t” His hands were placed on his hips as he scanned everywhere he could for more marks, and all he could see was bruises, old and new, littered across your arms. Even the softness of your feet covered in dried blood from stepping on the glass.
When that caught his eye he knew you needed attention.
“Right, you’re comin’ over so i can get ya cleaned up” He reached for your hand but you pulled back abruptly.
“I can’t, Joel. I can’t leave”
“Then i’ll carry you”
“You don’t get it!” you raised your voice a little louder to get the message across.
“You’re right, I don’t get it. But I ain’t gonna leave you alone right now so you either move, or I move ya myself”
You sighed, knowing he wasn’t gonna let up, so you made the brave decision to step outside… wincing as your feet made contact with the hard stone below you. Joel was there right away, scooping you up into his arms and hoisting you on one side of his hip as his other hand closed your front door. He eyed you for a moment, making sure he wasn’t hurting you before making his way over to his house.
All the fear coursing through your veins dulled as you felt joel’s touch, he was much bigger than you which at the start intimidated you, but now all you wanted to do was crawl into his embrace and let him take care of your problems.
Joel was one of your favourite people; when you moved in you two immediately hit it off, becoming very quick friends. From what you heard from Tommy, Joel wasn’t the type of person to be overly nice to everyone he meets, but you were different. He would always help you out when you had issues with the plumbing or gas, as Rick was never interested in doing any of that. He would bring over leftovers for you as he knew you struggled to eat after a particularly bad fight. Basically anytime Rick wasn’t there, Joel was. Insisting on taking care of you when things went wrong. Helping you get out of bed, and brushing your hair for you on the worst days.
Tommy was already waiting with the front door open, allowing Joel inside as he carried you through the threshold.
“She alright?” Tommy asked and Joel nodded slightly, taking you through to the kitchen and perching you up on the counter, picking up your leg and inspecting your foot for the first time.
“You gotta’ start wearing shoes, sweetheart”
You gave a slightly amused breath at his words but he wasn’t laughing in the slightest. He was angry.
Angry at me? you thought
He moved to one of the cupboards, pulling out a first aid kit and making his way back to you, pulling a stool over and sitting in front of your legs, pulling your feet into his lap and getting to work with the antiseptic.
“ouch!” you winced as the stinging made its way through your body.
“I know babygirl, m’sorry. i’ll just be a little minute more and then you’re done, m’kay?”
That was another thing that was unusual with Joel, his affection towards you. It was clear that he cared about your feelings, maybe it was just because he knew that you didn’t get much at home… or maybe… just maybe…
“All done, sweet girl” you were pulled from your thoughts as he placed the bloodied cotton pads onto the counter beside you and you winced internally at how much blood there actually was. He picked up a thin bandage and began to wrap each of your feet. making sure the cuts were covered.
“Thank you” you spoke quietly, even when he was finished he still held your feet in his lap, the warmness and softness of his jeans bringing you comfort. It made you yawn and made your limbs stretch slightly.
“You tired?” he asked. You shook your head, you knew he’d have you sleep here if you asked but you didn’t want an excuse to stay any longer, on the off chance that Rick was already on his way home.
“I better get going” Joel’s hands held onto your hips as you slid down off the counter, your feet feeling way better touching the floor than before.
“She ain’t leavin’” Tommy’s voice interrupted the both of you, you turned to face the younger brother who was standing in the door way, essentially blocking your exit.
“I-I have to”
“No frickin’ way!” Tommy protested, raising his voice a bit.
“Tommy” Joel warned.
“No, absolutely not! You think we’re gonna let you go back there after everything that sick son of a bitch has done? You’re fuckin’ crazy”
“You don’t understand” You spoke softly, a whimper caught in the back of your throat.
“No you don’t understand! You wanna fuckin’ die huh? You got some sorta death wish?” Tommy was stepping closer to you, not with the intention of intimidating you but out of pure frustration with you.
“Tommy! Back the fuck off” Joel stepped forward now too, both brothers exchanging looks that told you this had been more than a one time conversation. You couldn’t help the tears that burned your eyes, begging to be released, your lip wobbling with every breath.
Tommy was an incredible friend to you, but he was the harsher one out of the two brothers when it came down to you. Joel was better at hiding his true feelings but Tommy, wouldn’t let you hear the end of it.
“What if one day we ain’t there huh? what’s she gonna do? who’s she gonna run to? If she ain’t already dead by that point” his words were harsh and brought all your emotions to light.
“Stop it! please!” you burst into tears, chest tightening as your sobs began to wrack your body.
Joel was immediately at your side pulling you into his embrace tightly and running his hand through your hair, whispering sweet words.
“M’sorry, honey. But you ain’t leaving tonight and that’s final” Tommy spoke before disappearing into the hallway.
“He ain’t tryna be mean sweetheart” Joel whispered as you clung to him.
“I-I know” you spoke hiccuping through your words.
“He’s just worried about you, and so am I”
You pulled away from Joel’s embrace, wiping your eyes. Of course you knew it was wrong, Of course you knew you could get seriously hurt or end up dead. But if it was that straightforward you would’ve been gone a long time ago.
“Can you at least stay until i get some painkillers in ya’?” Joel asked, and it wasn’t a big ask at all… but to you it felt like a hefty question. But it wouldn’t hurt right? You could take the painkillers then head straight back home as if nothing happened.
You nodded and Joel gave a soft smile, and took your hand, leading you through the house and up the stairs.
“I keep everythin’ in my bathroom cabinet, jus’ better that way” he seemingly answered every question you had without you even having to ask.
He led you to sit on his bed as he went into the bathroom, rummaging for a few moments before returning with little white capsules in his hand, he reached into his night stand and grabbed an unopened bottle of water, twisting the cap and handing you both items.
He watched you carefully as you took the pills, swallowing them with water and taking a few more chugs of the water as you didn’t realise how thirsty you were. You handed the bottle back to him and he placed it back on his nightstand.
His room was so cozy, you had never been up here before. Shades of grey and black accented the room, lights dim and sheets soft, his bed big enough for 4 people never mind just him. You could tell this room probably wasn’t his idea as Joel wasn’t one to prioritise his own comfort. It was so cozy that your eyes began to droop, and your head began to sway.
“Lay down, babygirl” Joel instructed and even came to your side to aid you but you pushed him off.
“Nuh-uh I can’t, have to go home”
“Just lay down for 5 minutes, c’mon i don’t want you passing out” he insisted.
“M’kay, 5 minutes” He helped you lay down as you got comfortable on his plushy sheets, it was almost unusual how sleepy you were. You felt your eyes begin to shut against your will and felt your breathing begin to slow. You were falling asleep, but no matter what you did you couldn’t stop it from overcoming you. Your body drifting into a deep slumber before Joel’s eyes.
If only you’d of seen the bottle of sleeping pills sat out on his bathroom counter.
-
When you woke, it was way darker outside, an ambient light flashing through, you squinted for a minute until you realised it was police lights. You searched your surroundings realising you were wearing a t-shirt and bottoms that did not belong to you, and you were also laying on joel’s pillows, the covers atop of you. You threw the covers off and began to stand up, your sleepiness still coursing through your body. how long did i sleep?
You padded towards the window, looking out and gasping at the sight of Rick being pushed into the back of a police car, his protests actively ignored by the officers, you began to start panicking but something caught your eye, or someone.
Tommy stood on the front porch, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he watched the car drive down the street, the officer driving giving him a wave as they passed… they know each other?
“You’re awake” your body jolted as you spun round to face Joel, who stood in the middle of the room holding a mug of what looked and smelled like tea. He motioned for you to take the mug but you ignored him, eyeing him with a look of betrayal.
“I know you didn’t want this sweet girl but i-”
“Didn’t want this? Joel do you have any fucking idea what you’ve just done? He’s gonna get out and he’s gonna come straight for me, do you understand that?” you ran your hands through your hair, pacing back and forth and contemplating all of your options.
“Hey, hey, hey” Joel sat the mug down and walked over grabbing a hold of your shoulders and pulling you to him. “He ain’t gonna hurt you no more, understand”
You looked into his eyes and saw nothing but pure sureness in his eyes.
“He comes anywhere near ya i’ll kill m’ myself”… again, the sureness… but something else lurked in his irises, something dark.
“You’re not killing anyone Joel” you pulled out of his grip and began to walk away, searching for your lost clothes, rummaging through his wardrobe and under his bed.
“Where’s all my stuff?”
Joel sighed and walked over to you again.
“It’s in the laundry, why are you so desperate to leave? He’s not here anymore” You heard the frustration in his voice but why was he angry at you, it meant you could go home peacefully.
“Because it’s my home, Joel”
“This is your home” He said plainly, which in any other circumstance would’ve been sweet but you couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.
“That’s kind Joel but I really gotta-”
“You think now that i’ve got you i’m just gonna let you go?” He chuckled.
The air shifted as you looked into Joel’s eyes that seemed to have nothing but pure lust for you, he had been drinking.
But it wasn’t until your eyes caught the little orange pill bottle sat open on the counter that it finally clicked. And he noticed when it clicked. His eyes followed yours and he sighed at his mistake, before giving a slight scoff.
“Sorry, probably shoulda’ put that away before”
“Joel?” You grew more and more frightened as the seconds grew by, this wasn’t your Joel. This Joel had something dark and malicious about him.
“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart” he came up and held your face in his hands…
“I’m gonna take care of you now”
-
a/n: please let me know if you want a part two i’d be happy to write one! any comments and reblogs are so greatly appreciated thank you so much for reading.
love, mila🎀
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#tlou fic#joel miller fic#dark joel miller#joel miller angst#the last of us x reader#no outbreak!joel miller#dark!joel miller#dark!fic#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller x fem!reader
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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | Masterlist
Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.
Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia
𝔦.
𝔦𝔦.
𝔦𝔦𝔦.
𝔦𝔳.
𝔳.
𝔳𝔦.
𝔳𝔦𝔦.
𝔳𝔦𝔦𝔦.
𝔦𝔵.
𝔵.
𝔵𝔦.
𝔵𝔦𝔦.
Drabble #1
#dark!coriolanus snow x reader#dark!coriolanus snow#tbosbas fanfiction#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#dark!fic#series masterlist#tbosas#hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#divider credit: @saradika
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captive
Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader
summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. IMPLIED PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, it’s implied her family members were also killed, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own, stockholm syndrome, reader deals with a lot of very distressing and conflicting feelings, Joel isn’t too creepy or extremely dark, but he is still not a good person, mentions of Tommy. VERY BRIEF SMUT in the form of cockwarming, daddy kink but i didn’t go overboard this time, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, sweetheart) if i missed anything, you can POLITELY let me know because if i missed anything, it was purely accidental. minimal editing.
PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.
if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.
word count: 1.4k
a/n: i might actually throw up idk. i’ve had this itch to try dark joel and seeing as i have major writer’s block with all my other wips i decided to just scratch the itch. this is a little out of my comfort zone but i actually ended up feeling pleased with what i wrote. this is my personal take on dark/raider joel, i’m sure it is very out of character but it’s fanfiction so…yeah. here it is.
It’s the rain that rouses you from your sleep.
It beats down heavily on the remote cabin’s tin roof.
Loud. Much too loud.
You roll over, settling yourself on your side.
The mattress is old, worn, rotting beneath the sheets.
You can’t complain, though. At least you have a bed.
Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.
He always gets the room with the bed.
As his special girl, that means you always get the room with the bed too.
It’s not quite as flattering as one would believe.
He only ever wants the bedroom for one reason—to keep you behind a locked door so you can’t run.
You sigh softly and stare out the window. He’d secured that too, made certain that it couldn’t be opened from the inside.
Closing your eyes, you try and go back to sleep.
Sleep doesn’t come.
His absence is starting to bother you.
You’ve been with him for an entire season now.
You’re getting used to him.
The sound of his voice.
The warmth of his body.
The taste of his lips.
You can’t even sleep without him next to you.
“Fuck,” you whisper, clutching the stale sheets, balling them in your fists out of frustration.
How was it possible? How could you be missing him?
He had taken everything from you.
Your family.
Your home.
Your innocence.
He was holding you captive. He was a monster.
But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.
Doesn’t clothe you.
Doesn’t feed you.
Doesn’t protect you.
He did all of those things and more.
Is that why you feel so empty without him beside you?
Is that why you’re no longer so certain you would run if you were given the chance to escape him?
You fucking hated him for what he’d done.
Yet here you are, aching for him to come back to you.
It’s another hour before you hear the lock clicking.
Joel pushes through the door, quietly closing it behind him.
“Y’awake?” he asks, slipping his pack off his shoulders.
“Mhm,” you answer with your back to him. “I am.”
You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.
His worn leather boots being kicked off.
His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.
“How was the hunt?”
You can feel him freeze as he’s taking off his jacket.
Getting you to willingly speak to him had always been a lot like pulling teeth. Difficult, almost impossible.
When he doesn’t respond, you roll over to face him.
There’s a swoop in your tummy.
Joel is drenched from head to toe. His blue denim shirt clings to his broad frame and his dark, graying curls are slicked back away from his face.
He’s got such a handsome face.
Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re really askin’ me how the hunt went?” Suspicion laces his tone. “Why? Y’worried you won’t eat tonight?”
Of course you weren’t.
Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.
When food is scarce, he makes sure you eat first. If he notices you rubbing your tummy because your portion wasn’t enough, he’ll give you his own portion.
He takes care of you.
“No.” You pause and sit up. The sheets you two share fall away from your body, leaving your soft, supple breasts on full display for him. “Just wanted to know how your morning went. That’s all.”
It’s not your tits that make his cock twitch against the zipper of his jeans—it’s the sincerity that flashes across your features, the sound of it in the tone of your voice.
You’re being sweet to him.
He clears his throat lightly.
“Went real good. Brought down a deer. Female, ‘bout a hundred pounds or so. Enough to keep all of us well fed for the next couple of weeks,” he says with a nod. “Was pissin’ rain the entire time but it was worth it. Tommy’s in the shed out back right now dressin’ it so we can get a stew started.” He pauses. “You’re gonna get a proper meal tonight, babygirl. Belly’s gonna be nice and full.”
He’s not just talking about food and you know it.
You make an effort to meet his gaze, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it, not when you remembered how he’d taken you away from your family—how he had carried you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming as his people raided your camp and slaughtered every last member of your group because that’s what Joel Miller had ordered them to do.
Looking him in the eye might be the one thing you will never, ever be able to do.
“It’s cold,” you murmur after a minute. “You should get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”
With a subtle nod, Joel turns around and starts peeling off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He uses an old rag to dry himself off as best as he can, although it doesn’t do much for him.
You can’t help yourself and stare—your gaze drags over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, how they flex and ripple beneath his skin with every single one of his movements. Arousal pools between your thighs and all you can do is fucking hate yourself for wanting it, for wanting him.
“S’pretty early still,” he states, his back still to you as he runs the rag through his hair. “Y’should try to get some more sleep.”
The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think about stopping it.
“I couldn’t sleep while you were gone.”
Surprised, he turns around.
Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.
Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still so fucking big.
“Is that so?” Joel asks, sounding rather pleased.
“Yes,” you say, softly. “I—I missed you.”
His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.
“Yeah?” he coos. “My sweet little girl missed me while I was gone? Hm?” Slowly, he approaches the bed. It dips slightly and the frame creaks as he plants a knee on the mattress and leans over towards you. Gently, Joel takes your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Y’need Daddy by your side so you can sleep, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” you whisper, warm tears glazing over your eyes.
It’s bad enough your body welcomed him so easily.
Now your heart was starting to do the same.
And then there was your mind.
What if that stopped fighting him too?
Part of you is afraid it already has.
Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.
“M’here, my pretty girl. C’mere, honey.” He coaxes you to lay on your side and pulls you back against his chest. His skin is still damp, frigid from having been out in the elements, but somehow he’s still warm. “That better?”
“Need you closer,” you mumble, wiggling against him.
Joel groans, his thick cock hard and throbbing against the small of your back. He nips at your bare shoulder as his hand drags down the length of your body and slips between your thighs. “Christ, babygirl. Pussy’s soakin’ wet for me. Looks like she missed me while I was gone too, didn’t she, sweetheart?”
He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.
“Daddy,” you whimper, bucking into his hand.
“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy knows what you need.”
Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.
You almost cry—you’re so fucking desperate for him.
And you shouldn’t be.
He reaches in between your bodies, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Without warning, he slips it into your tight, aching cunt, sheathing himself in your warm, wet heat in one smooth stroke.
You choke out a sob.
It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.
That fullness, the feeling of him being in your belly.
“S’alright, sweetheart. S’alright. I know you can take it,” he soothes you. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always take my cock so fuckin’ well. So good for me, baby. You feel better now that Daddy’s cock is buried inside your pretty little pussy?”
He drapes an arm around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.
“Yes,” you breathe, placing your hand on top of his.
Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.
“Go to sleep, babygirl. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he promises you.
That shouldn’t be a comfort to you. But it is.
You close your eyes, your fingers subconsciously lacing together with his as you start to drift.
Cunt full of his cock, you fall asleep in your captor’s arms.
divider credit to @saradika🤍
#tw dubcon#tw dubious consent#tw noncon#raider joel#raider! joel#dark!fic#dark! joel miller#dark joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller drabble#joel miller fanfiction#tw daddy kink#dark!joel x reader#fic: captive
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Camping Trip
Warnings: Somno, non-con, unprotected sex, creampie, JJ stealing Rafe’s girl, Rafe claiming her anyway 😮💨
I didn't want to come on this camping trip but my girlfriend insisted. The idea behind it was appealing; kayaking through the marsh, partying, then camping for the night, then going back to civilization. The cops left us alone as long as we cleaned up our mess before we left. All the way out here, there was no need to worry about disturbing anyone else or getting a noise complaint. I think this was their way of letting us get everything out of our system. The drugs, alcohol, and sex never stopped flowing at these events. Out here we weren't Kooks or Pogues. We were all alike and just trying to forget for a weekend. Everyone was out in the open, naked and fucking. Or drinking. Or smoking. It was the wildest weekend of the year. But it was torture for me now.
I couldn't relax knowing that the one person plaguing my mind was here and she was here with Rafe fucking Cameron. We were supposed to have some sort of truce with Rafe for Sarah. She didn't want the drama and the retaliation that always followed. And sense one of the rules for coming out here was no fighting, my hands were tied. For the most part.
When we'd been loading the kayaks on the water, I'd seen Rafe's tent lying on the sand waiting to be packed so I nonchalantly bent down to grab something and sliced the side with my knife before he came back. He was more pissed off over manual labor than to notice the giant hole. It wasn't until a few hours ago that he finally noticed and threw a fit. Of course he didn't suspect me because I was the one helping them set up camp. Rafe wasn't made for the outdoors like I was so he didn't have a clue. And when I offered to let them share our four person tent, he was hesitant but he agreed. Especially after I mentioned the risk of sand fleas from sleeping outside.
Y/N saw through my bullshit though. I could tell with the way her eyes tracked my every move, narrowing slightly when we'd lock eyes. My girl isn't stupid so why is she hanging out with this moron?
It was getting late by the time Rafe was drunk enough to be tolerable. My girlfriend was currently passed out in the tent, her buzz keeping her that way as I crawled in next to her. Rafe's one stipulation about sharing the tent was that the girls slept in the middle. That was fine but I couldn't bear to wake my girlfriend so I left her on the side, maneuvering myself between her and Y/N. Both girls were in their bikinis since the night air was still pretty hot and humid while I had nothing on but a pair of basketball shorts. Y/N had laid down a while ago but Rafe was passed out by the fire, where he'd stay for now.
I let my eyes descend her body, marking every detail to memory from the scar on her hip to the freckle on her chest. I want to lick every inch of her the cum on her face. She was exquisite and fucking mine.
I moved closer so her side was pressed to my chest, her hand next to the raging hardon in my shorts. I lost myself in watching the way her tits rose and fell with every breath before I finally pulled each scrap of material to the side to reveal her perfect nipples. They were already hard as I gently blew air across them. She didn't stir so I began to circle one with my point finger, willing it to get as hard as possible. I move to the next one, training my eyes on her face while making sure to listen for movements outside. Her thighs clenched together before falling open, welcoming me as I finally flicked her nipple with my tongue.
God, she tasted good.
I was so hard it hurt and her hand was against my dick, the ultimate form of torture. I didn't stop licking and sucking her peaked little bud until her head fell to the side, exposing her throat to me.
I felt like such a fucking creep but I couldn't help it. This girl made me crazy. I needed her in all the worst ways. Everytime I fucked my girlfriend I had to imagine it was this girl just so I could get off. It was wrong but I was only with her to make Y/N jealous.
I leaned into her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her skin and the shampoo in her hair. I resisted the urge to mark her pretty throat. Rafe would lose his fucking shit and the truce would be over if I left a hickey on her. It was tempting but I pulled back just as she stirred again and her hand brushed against my cock. I sucked in a breath through my nose before reaching down to free myself from my shorts. My cock rested against her hand and I watched as precum wept from the tip, onto her delicate fingers.
I grit my teeth before reaching down to wrap her hand around my cock and slowly use her hand to jerk myself off. I was on the verge of moaning and cumming from this alone so I took her nipple into my mouth again to try and distract myself from the best handsy I'd ever gotten.
Finally, I pulled away and let her hand drop before I moved to the foot of the tent. There was still no movement from outside so I carefully widened her legs further to get a look at her plump, wet pussy, the fabric of her bikini bottoms were damp with her arousal. I positioned myself on my stomach between her thighs and pressed my nose to the fabric, savoring the way she fucking smelled. I needed to get it together or I was going to run out of time.
I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning when I slowly pulled the fabric to the side and found her slick with arousal, just like I knew she would be. She was waxed and so goddamn smooth. I used my hands to open her up and present myself with her clit. The swollen nub was already darkening in color, ready to be sucked.
I stuck my tongue out flat and swiped it from her entrance to her clit, her taste making me almost blow my load right then. I watched her face for signs of movement as I did it again and again. I tried to take my time while I tasted her when really all I wanted to do was feast like a starved man. I needed to die in this pussy.
When I sucked her clit into my mouth and her legs tightened, I stopped, my eyes trained on her unmoving face. I moved lower, teasing her entrance with my tongue and her brows finally pulled together, the first sign of consciousness I'd seen on her.
I thrust my tongue inside her sweet, wet pussy and her toes immediately curled. I couldn't stop fucking her with my tongue. She was so wet that it was running down my chin, onto my chest while it absolutely just poured out of her like a fountain. Finally a soft hum left her lips and I froze for a moment before carefully moving to my knees as I tried to listen for Rafe outside.
"R-Rafe--." She moaned softly, sliding her legs together and turning on her side. Fire blazed through my blood, my hands balling into fists as I grit my teeth so hard, I feared they might shatter. She's dreaming about fucking Rafe.
I didn't think as I rolled her the rest of the way to her stomach and tucked her thong bikini to the side after shoving her legs together. I straddled her body, freeing my cock again and watching it drip all over her nice ass before I guided it through her slick. Pissed off didn't even begin to describe how I was feeling now. It took every ounce of strength I had left to resist the urge to bury my cock in her in one hard thrust but I didn't.
I eased the tip in as I leaned over her back, blood filling my mouth where I've bit my lip. The tight, wet heat of her pussy washed over me, her walls already pulsing as she pulled me in deeper. I leaned down next to her face, moving her hair out of the way as my pelvis became flush with her ass, and kissed the shell of her ear.
"Who's cock is inside you right now?" I can't help but growl, as I start to roll my hips back and forth. Her breathing picks up, her body reacting to mine as I fuck her with short thrusts, attempting to avoid the slapping sound of skin on skin. Her hands fist the sleeping bag next to her head and I grin before looking between our bodies to watch my cock pull out covered in her white, creamy substance before driving back inside her. I lower myself to her back and drag my tongue up her spine, leaving goosebumps all over her skin as I find her ear again.
"Who's fucking you right now?" I growl, her pussy walls quiver hard as she nears her release. Fuck, I'm right there too. I need to pull out. Rafe can't know I was here or I risk throwing away the truce between the Pogues and Kooks but fuck, I don't think the devil himself could stop me right now. A darker part of me wants to mark her insides with my cum just to claim her then watch it drip. Fuck what Rafe thinks.
I cover her hands with my own, her fingers immediately locking with mine in a tight grip. Every inch of her is drawn tight as she approaches her release, her brows pulled together as she fights to maintain the ruse of being asleep. I want to fuck her harder, faster, but I know we’ll get caught if I lose control.
"I should roll you on your back and make you watch as I fuck my cum into you. Sluts like you deserve to be filled up and left." I keep my voice low in her ear and a small gasp leaves her lips, her eyes finally fluttering open to gaze up at me. I'm not sure if she's afraid or pleading. Afraid I'll stop or pleading for me to continue. She looks hot regardless.
"I--." Her whisper is cut off as she cums hard, practically soaking us both as her eyes roll into the back of her head and she trembles beneath me. I growl, driving myself into her harder as cum shoots deep inside her whether I want it to or not. I grab a fistful of her hair, my mouth at her ear as I cum and cum and cum. It's so much that I can't stop.
"Look at me. Look at who's fucking you, who's cum is inside you." I snap in a low voice but she shakes her head, refusing to look at me.
"Look at me or I'll stop. I know you're gonna cum again. Open your fucking eyes and say my name." Her lips tremble just as her eyes snap open and another orgasm washes over her. The fire in her eyes morphs to one of raw desire just as her lips part on a breathless moan and I hear what I've been dying to hear all night.
"J--." Her mouth clamps closed again as she shakes hard beneath me. I fuck her through it until my own body is shaking from overstimulation and I have no choice but slow to a stop.
Her eyes are heavy for a few moments before they narrow on me, that fire back. I lean in to kiss her, wanting to feel her lips just once but she turns her head, jutting out her chin.
“My cum is leaking out of you and you won’t kiss me?” I rasp in her ear, feeling her body tighten and my cock jerks inside her.
“I hate you.” She bites out, watching as I slowly pull out. I can feel we’ve made a mess and for a few seconds I can’t find it in me to give a fuck. I don’t want to pull out. I’m not ready for this to be over. If anything I want to keep going until the sun comes up and we have no choice but to face Rafe.
“You can hate me all you want but you loved every second of it.” I grab Rafe’s towel and clean her up the best I can before she slaps my hand away and does it herself.
“You’re a piece of shit. I thought you were Rafe.” She hisses, grabbing one of Rafe’s shirts and yanking it over her head, her eyes glancing at my sleeping girlfriend that I’d forgotten about.
I open my mouth to argue when I hear steps shuffling in the sand right outside the tent. There’s the distinct sound of vomiting and gagging as we both scramble to right ourselves and appear to be sleeping. I give her my back and quickly throw my arm over my sleeping girlfriend just as the zipper is pulled back.
“Fuck.” I hear Rafe grumble as he drops down on the sleeping bag next to me. There’s shuffling and I hear her gasp. My teeth grind together at the sound of their heavy breathing. He’s so drunk that he’s gonna fuck her with me in here, not even realizing she’s already full of me.
“Rafe..” I hear her whisper then she gasps as he no doubt buries himself inside her.
“God, you’re so wet. Miss me, baby?”
#smutwarning#outer banks smut#jj maybank smut#obx2#jj maybank fic#jj maybank imagine#rudy pankow#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank x you#jj obx#tw non con#outer banks x reader#rafe cameron smut#wattpad#tw dark content#dark!fic#blueicequeen19#dark!rafe cameron#outer banks fanfiction#tw unprotected sex#jj maybank
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No Way Out
Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader
▶ 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
SUMMARY: Escaping Tangerine was never an option.
WARNING: Implied Kidnapping.
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
I dug this out of nowhere to feed to Tangerine fandom. Probably one of my lasts drafts about him :(
--
“Love…don’t you fuckin’ dare.”
You swallow hard, fear building in your throat as Tangerine appears in the room, stiffly standing near the door.
The gun threatens to slip from your sweaty grip and you increase the pressure, struggling to keep your hand steady despite the very obvious tremor.
It's not like you know how to use the revolver that you somehow managed to find in one of Tangerine's office drawers, but you thought you could use it to get out of this unwanted situation.
“Give me the keys and I won’t shoot.” your attempt to have an authoritative voice fails miserably, both you and Tangerine realizing your terrified state.
“Y/N, darlin’…” He takes a cautious step forward, approaching you and you sniff, terror flooding you.
“Please! Please, give me the keys…” you beg, taking a few steps behind until you bump into the kitchen aisle, trapped between the furniture and Tangerine.
You panic as he keeps moving forward in your direction.
“Stop! Just stop moving or…. or I swear I’ll shoot.”
“Listen, love, how about we talk this through’, yeah?” he raises his hands in the air, assuring that he wasn't going to try anything but you still keep the gun pointed at him.
“That’s a fully loaded gun, love, you can seriously hurt yourself with it and we don’t want that, do we?”
Tangerine takes another small step towards you as you shake your head, tears blurring your vision and your hand slightly lowers.
“I just wanna go home.” you sob, shoulders shaking.
Your blurry eyes makes you miss the small step he takes towards you, his cheek twitching with anticipation.
“I know, love, but this is your home now.” his voice is smooth and calm, placating you and you look at him, eyes begging him.
“Please…”
“You’re not leavin’ this house, love, you know that.” his confidence scares you and he extends his hand, nodding towards the gun. “So why don’t you gimme' me that gun and I promise I won’t get mad, how ‘bout that?”
You don’t reply and Tangerine sighs.
“Cause did ya know that the door also needs a finger print scan to open up, right?”
Your eyes dart towards the robust front door, already protected with several locks whose keys you still don't have.
Big mistake.
By the time you realize that there is no scanner, it’s too late. Tangerine lunges forwards and next thing you know, you're pinned down between the counter and his body.
You cry out as he expertly twists your wrist, taking the gun away from you, carelessly throwing it to the floor.
His anger is visible as he roughly turns you around, slamming you face down on the counter, pressing his lips to your ear.
“Looks like you’re in a big fuckin’ trouble, love.”
#@mrsdarkandyandere7#yandere x reader#bullet train#dark tangerine#dark!tangerine#dark!tangerine x reader#yandere tangerine#yandere tangerine x reader#yandere!tangerine#tangerine x reader#tw: implied kidnapping#dark!fic#dark fic#dark tangerine x reader#tw.dark content
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“Made for me.” // Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader
Thank you everyone for 1K followers, I am so grateful for all the support I've received for my fics, it's kind of an emotional moment for me cause I never thought I'd get this far, so here is the fic from this poll! this is short since I did not have much time and I do not want to delay my 1k celebration fic further! <3
MDNI // DD:DNE // reader discretion is advised.
Summary: As far as Aemond can remember, he had liked you, not in a way a brother loves his sister, no, in a way a man loves a woman, finding out that you were soon to be betrothed to a Tully for alliance, he feels devastated, until he decides he can prevent it, by ruining you.
WARNINGS: heavy noncon to dubcon, mindbreak, mindfuck, canon typical incest, creepy aemond(?), possessive aemond, dark!aemond, jealousy, obsession, breeding kink, tiddy sucking, virginity loss, mentions of blood, purity culture, medieval age standards (no smut until 18+), cum eating, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, porn with little plot. + not proofread.
block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to avoid seeing dark content from me.
WC: 3k
For as long as Aemond can remember, he had always been smitten with you, his little sister, someone very dear to him, he had loved you since the moment you were born, immediately becoming someone he swore to protect.
He was rumoured to have some romantic feelings for helaena, which wasn't entirely false but if anyone were to look closely, they would realise that the longing gaze he holds for helaena is nothing compared to the one when he looks at you.
As he grew into a man, these feelings developed further, and as he watched you grow into a woman, desire managed to get a hold of him. He remembers the first time he felt carnal attraction towards you, it was your sixteenth nameday, you had worn a beautiful green dress that showed a little cleavage, something his mother would've been against but she let it slide that time, he remembered as you bent over in front of him to get something from the table, giving him full view of your tits which he immediately looked away from.
That night he had rushed back to his chambers as fast as possible to tug on his length at the thought of you.
He was never the same after that, every touch ignited a fire in him, when you would lay on his thigh as you both sat beneath the godswood while he read, he had to fight the urge to take you right then and there, taking your maidenhead in front of the gods to bind you to himself forever.
As the years passed, his feeling for you grew stronger and stronger.
“Aem!” There was your sweet voice calling him once again, his gaze lifted from the book on the table to your form which stood a few metres away from him, you smiled when you noticed his gaze was on you, walking over to him so you stood next to him, peering down on the book he was reading.
“What are you reading?” you ask curiously, voice leaking with inquiry, he looked down at his book before glancing up again, “Just a book about our history, valyria.” he tells you and you lean down slightly over his shoulder, your platinum blonde locks falling over and curtaining the side of his face as you read the text.
“Would you read it to me?” you inquire and he nods, before you shoot him the bright smile that never seemed to leave your face, and pull the chair beside him, causing the wood to make a noise as it glid against the floor, and sitting down on it.
He began reading and you listened to him for quite a while, before your eyes started becoming droopy and closing as sleep tried to overwhelm you, it wasn't because you were not interested in the history, no, it was due to the fact that your older brother's voice was extremely comforting.
He chuckled when he tried your efforts to keep yourself awake and closed the book, “Sister, you must not fight when sleep finds you, go to thine chambers and rest.”
“But brother! You have just gotten to Aegon's conquest.” you pout, and he chuckles, “I shall read it to you tomorrow, now go rest.” he manages to convince you and obey his word.
Aemond sighs as he watches you walk away, you were the Apple of his eye, everyone knew, he had been protective of you since you were younger, though he developed certain type feelings, the kind that a brother shouldn't develop for his sister, but alas, targaryens have queer customs, after all, his elder sister was married to Aegon, their older brother.
It was only time until mother betrothed you both, and he would wait patiently for that, he would often imagine how married life with you would be, it would be perfect.
But all those dreams were crushed when he finds out that your mother was planning to betrothed you to a tully, to get their alliance in case of Aegon's claim for the throne. Angry was an understatement, he was extremely pissed off, and what did you do? You gladly accepted it, even managing to look happy at the proposal.
Just then he remembers his elder sister's words. ‘If one possesses a thing, the other will take it away.’
He could not have that.
He can not have you be taken away from him, that too by an undeserving house such as tully.
You knew something was extremely odd when Aemond came to your chambers at night, he never did that, always deeming it inappropriate for a lady and a man to be together after the moon has risen unless they were husband and wife. So it was extremely shocking as to what he was doing in your chambers, knowing he took the secret entrance since the guard did not mention Aemond at all when you entered.
“Brother? What are you doing here so late?” you ask as you approach him, he is sitting on the chair near the fireplace, turning his head to the side as if to acknowledge your presence, the light bouncing off his face making his features look much more angular and intimidating.
“I have missed you, dear sister.” he stood up and turned to face you, and you peered up at him confused, “I had heard about your betrothal to a tully, though I do not remember his name, I came here to wish you pleasantries and a prosperous marriage.” he tries his best to not scowl.
You smile widely.
And that immediately sets him off.
“Thank yo-” before you could finish your sentence, Aemond grabs you harshly by your cheeks, pulling his face towards his own, “You're happy? You're fucking happy?” he growls as his breath fans your face, “Aemond-” before you could say anything, the same hand that was gripping your cheeks goes to your hair, pulling your head back, your hands fly up to his to make him release his grip as the tug at your strands were incredibly painful.
He doesn't say anything but slams his lips against yours, moving against yours in a frantic rhythm, your eyes widen at this and you push at his chest to pull him off, but he uses the grip on your hair to further push you against him, and soon you're all flush against him, weakly trying to pushing him off while the hand in your hair keeps tightening as the other holds your waist gently.
A true contrast.
He pulls away to breathe and he looks at your teary eyes, as you look at him, “Aemond- you're scaring me.” you say weakly, shaking as his eye narrows, “I love you.” he blurts out and you look at him shocked, “But- we're siblings–”
“We're also targaryens.” he cuts you off, and lets go of your hair.
You squeal when he lifts you up roughly, before making haste over to your bed and throwing you on it, and before you can get up, he traps you in his arms.
“I do not wish to see you married to someone else, you have been mine, since the day you were born, sister.” he whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to it. You gasped when you felt his hand grope at your clothed breast giving it a tight squeeze and you tried prying his hand off to no avail.
“Aem- please stop-” you beg but he doesn't listen and his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, “Sister, tell me the truth have you not felt anything when you stay with me? A warm feeling in your heart?” your breathe hitches as he asks you that question, and you look away from him, feeling ashamed that you held feelings for him, they very well hidden, you felt ashamed whenever you would feel heat pool between your legs as you watched Aemond do quite literally anything.
He undoes his breeches and pulls his cock out, undeniably hard, “If I ruin you then mother won't marry you off to him, besides, no one would want a woman that is ruined, especially by her own brother.” he says and you sob, shaking your head and you gasp as you feel his dick pressed against your core.
Your silence gave him the answer he needed, he tore your dress apart, the stitches popping off with a noise, as he changed his grip and undoes your clothing.
You try to push him off and hit his chest, in defiance, but he is much stronger than you, pinning your hands above with his one hand as the other pulls off the shredded clothing, with your final strength, you deliver a hard kick to his crotch which causes him to groan and plop on the bed next to you in pain, and you use that change to try and scramble up and off the bed but to your disdain, he immediately recovers and pulls you down with a tight grip on your leg but pushing them apart, placing himself between them and then wrapping his hands around your neck, the grip cutting off air circulation rapidly as you struggled against him.
“Fucking cunt.” he says before spitting on your face and you cry, you feel your brain go dark as you start loosing consciousness at the lack of oxygen only for him to let go, cause you to take a deep breath on relax, snapping you awake at once.
“Sister, look how much you are leaking, way too much for someone that pretends like they hate it.” he rubs his cock against your folds, coating it in your juices and he groans, before he leans in, kissing your neck and then your breasts before pulling back.
“Brother please- ah!” you gasp when you felt his hot fingers press against your bud, rubbing it, making you squirm as you grip his hand and try to push it off but his grip stays firm and you eventually give up, hands falling to your sides and gripping the sheets below as he plays with cunt.
He knew you'd eventually break.
He did not want to hurt you or force you.
But you weren't making it easier and he did not have much time either, so he had to resort to this.
You reach your peak with a loud moan of his name which went straight to his cock, he leaned down and kissed you once more, holding your legs apart by force and then grabbing his cock before lining it up against your entrance, slowly pushing the thick head in, your hands shot up to his shoulder to grab them, nails digging into the skin as he rips you apart on his cock, bullying into you without mercy, his hand covering your mouth as you let out painful whines to shush you up. You whimper when you feel him fully sheathed inside you, feeling too full, your cunt clenching around him painfully tight to push him out but he stays there.
“Look at you, taking my cock so well, like you were made to.” he whispers in your ear before pulling his hips back and snapping them forward, causing you to let out a scream, although it was muffled, at the pain. The orgasm before had only helped a little, he was too thick and big.
At first he starts slowly, pulling back and snapping one at a time, trying to give you time to adjust until you whimpered his name, which made him lose any and all control he had as his pace became faster, brutally slamming his cock inside you as you whined and moaned beneath him.
The sound of wet slapping noises soon fill the air and the smell of sex starts taking over, your mind becomes all hazy at what was happening to you, you watch as Aemond takes one of your breasts in his mouth, suckling on the nipple, drool spilling all over it while his hand gropes the other, massaging it. Your hand travels to his hair and you arch your back, shoving more of your breast in his mouth, making him groan in delight.
He pulls back with a pop and you look at him gasping and wide eyed as he thrusts into you, eyes dropped as slight drool leaks from the sides of your mouth, letting out moans when he hits that sweet spot inside you.
“Fuck- you're so perfect, made just for me.” he grunts, supporting himself on his hands above you, hair curtaining around your face as you stare directly in his eye, watching him close it in pleasure, gasping when he feels you clench around him.
“You're mine right?” his eye opens and he looks at you intensely, you nod, agreeing with what he was saying, your mind losing all of its ability to think rationally the moment he entered inside you, you felt your stomach tighten.
“Use your words.” he commands and you gulp, “Yes only yours— ah! Fuck aemond!” you throw your head back as your second orgasm hits you, moaning out loud and he let's out a shaky breath before you felt his thrusts become sloppy, “Fuck, I'm gonna fill this cunt up, watch my seed take root in your womb, you're mine, mine to fuck, marry, breed, you'll give me many heirs won't you?” he goes off, voicing his thoughts and you feel warm and turned on at his words, “Yes- brother, I'm all yours, only yours.” you say, grabbing his cheek and rubbing a thumb on his scar and he finishes inside you with a loud moan, pushing himself to the hilt as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum inside you.
He pulls out, still somehow hard and lays down beside you, and you feel so empty without him inside you, so you whine, “Aem- I need you.” you pout and he looks at you wide eyed, and you don't know what comes over you, but you find your patience running thin as you wait for him to do something, so you take matters into your own hands, getting on top of him, grabbing his blood soaked cock before rising your hips and sitting down on it.
“Sister?” Aemond asks questionably, as he grabs your hips, watching you bounce on top of his cock, breasts moving up and down as you moan loudly into the chambers, only his name, on repeat and that's when he finally understands what happened.
He broke you.
He fucked your mind.
He should feel bad, knowing how now you're seeking him and his cock out like a bitch in heat but he doesn't, he feels more accomplished at that, knowing you desire no one but him. He moans when he feels your cunt spasm around him as you reach your peak, and instead of stopping, you continue riding him, wanting to bring him to his peak as well, you take one of his hands and guide it to your breast, making him grip it and play with your nipple.
“Brother please! Please cum inside me, I want you to fill me up.” you beg and Aemond groans at that, “Want- want you so bad! please haa, I need to have your children.” you moan and Aemond felt himself reach his peak harshly at that, filling you up once again.
Aemond changes the position, getting on top of you again, cock still inside and you give him a small smile before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a kiss, his lips move passionately against yours, before he pulls away, kissing down your neck and to your breasts, he pulls out and slowly trails kissing down to your down, watching as his loads of cum leak out from you, he pushes his tongue out and collects his juice on his mouth, before shoving it inside again, engulfing your cunt in his mouth, you grab his hair and grind your hips against his face, moaning his name loudly as he works his mouth, his nose shoved against your clit, creating friction whenever he moves his head, and soon enough, you reach your peak once again, “Brother!” you moan as you arch your back and he groans into your cunt, lapping up at the juices being secreted from you, before pulling away from it, placing wet kisses on your inners thighs and coming up towards you again, and kissing you, shoving his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste both your combined juices, and you groan into the kiss at the taste.
You both spent that night just like that.
Your mother was horrified when she had heard about this, and tully had walked in on the conversation, scrunching up his face in disgust and calling off your betrothal, you stood with your arm wrapped around Aemonds arm as he explain his mother what happened, looking away and hiding in his arms as she yelled at him for ruining and spoiling you, before inevitable deciding to betroth you both as result.
And you both were married, two moons later.
The maesters were extremely confused when you went into labour earlier than what they had predicted, they thought that it was going to be a stillbirth, yet they were confused to see when a healthy silver hair babe popped out, crying and cooing. They considered it a miracle but only Alicent and Aemond knew the truth.
Aemond stood there with his child in his arms as he gazed lovingly upon him, a son. You smiled at him as he cooed in high valyrian.
“Maester, When can I take her again?” That question caught the maester off guard and he cleared his throat before speaking up, “I would suggest waiting 6 weeks until she is fully healed, or 3 moons time.” and Aemond hummed.
The maester leaves the room, leaving you, aemond and the babe alone, the baby cooing at his father, small hand entangled in his hair.
“After you heal, I shall put a babe inside you again, dear wife.” He comes down and sits next to you and you smile, “As you wish, husband.” you tease and press a kiss on his lips.
———
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader smut#aemond x reader smut#aemond x fem!reader#dark!aemond x reader#dark!aemond targaryen x reader#dark!fic#dark!aemond targaryen#dark!aemond targaryen smut#MAE:DARK!CONTENT#tw: noncon#tw: dubcon#house of the dragon smut#hotd smut#x reader smut#x reader#reader insert#1k special
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omg lene you should do something about a 80's slashers au with rafe and the boys that would be soooo cool!! ❤️❤️
!!! omigod yesss i'm gonna start with 80's slasher!rafe if feel like he'd be a creepy little stalkerrr, def season 2 rafe 💞
𐦍༘₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - non con, violence, stalking, spanking, slight breeding kink, knife play, dark!rafe - ₊˚⊹
you sat in the comfort of your bedroom, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, finishing up some homework while talking with a girlfriend of yours on the phone. you reach your hand out to your nightstand to grab the nail file when the sound of the door closing causes you to freeze, being left home alone, your heart starts to race, and you hang up the phone and walk up to your door. you pull down your pretty little white nightgown so it covers your ass as you press your ear to the door to make sure it was just your parents.
all you hear is silence so you shrug and convince yourself it was just your mind playing tricks on you, then the phone starts to ring again, thinking it was just your friend calling you back, and you pick up the phone.
"hello?" you speak with your voice lowered.
"hey babyface" you stop moving when you hear a voice you don't recognize.
"who's calling?" you try to sound assertive but end up sounding like a scared puppy.
"i've been uh- watching you for a long time, an' i figured i should introduce myself," he says, his voice all gravely. you grip on the handle of the phone and reach an arm over to close your curtains quickly.
"stop that! it's not funny, whoever this is leave me alone." you almost whine.
"nah can't do that baby, you looked too pretty in that nightgown...you wearin' panties underneath?" he continues.
"i'm gonna call my boyfriend an-and he'll find out who you are and beat you up!" you stutter.
"you're not gonna do that, cuz uh- i'm in the house, and if you hang up-"
"i'll call the police!" you cut him off.
"i need you to listen to me, if you don't wanna die, you need to walk down to the living room slowly- you try to run and i'll catch you. if you don't come down, i'll go up n'get you." he then hangs up, your chest heaving as tears start to form in your eyes, you think about climbing out the window but it is on the second floor and the man might catch you and kill you! you decide to grab a chair to put against the door to keep him coming in but it's too late, as you take one step backward trying to drag the chair you feel the blade of a knife press against your neck. you gasp, ready to scream.
"shshshsh, behave." the man shushes you, pressing himself behind you, god he must be tall. "told you to listen" he coos condescendingly.
"please, please don't..." you sob.
"hey, hey! shut up- listen to me alright?" he raises his voice causing you to shut your eyes and nod slowly in fear, tears spill down your face. "good girl. want you to lay down on your bed and stay there, don't move, scream, talk or do anything 'less i tell you." you nod again slowly and he removes the knife from your neck, you do as you are told and lay down on your bed, silently sobbing.
you look at the man, face now lit up by the soft light of your nightstand lamp, you watch him come closer and wipe some of the sweat forming on his forehead under his messy hair with the back of his hand that's holding the knife. he grins, getting up on your bed and tossing the knife next to him as he pins you down.
"r-rafe?..." you whisper, now realizing who it is.
"yeah! yeah baby it's me..." he continues to grin.
"get off! please rafe, i don't wanna do this with you!" you whine and start to squirm a little bit.
"you don't really have a choice." he mumbles as he runs his rough hands up and down your thighs, stopping to grab the hem of your lace panties. "you wear this for me?" he says pulling them down as you really start to cry, trying to get him off of you by pushing at his shoulders but he's too strong.
"i have a- my boyfriend-" you start but then he looks back into your eyes and smiles again. "nah, you don't, i got rid of 'im... cut him up, he's in the trunk of my truck. wanna see?" he asks, his eyes following yours, bringing his hand up to wipe your tears away lovingly.
"why!? why are you doing this!" you sob and try and move your face away from his touch. "i love you, i love you so much and you never talked to me or...looked at me and i need you to love me too…say it…" he demands. you shake your head no and try and push him off, pissed, rafe manhandles you. he flips you onto your stomach and lifts you up by your waist so your face is smushed against the messy sheets, ass in the air. "you fucking brat." he spits out.
he yanks your panties down and smacks your ass with his large hand, holding your wrists in the other. he forcefully spreads your legs and places a hard slap on your poor wet little cunt.
you let out a yelp as he "soothes" your throbbing pussy by rubbing your clit with the rough pads of three fingers. "are you a virgin princess?" he whispers, pressing a gross, sloppy kiss to your cheek. you whine out and try to move your face away. "what? you don't like my kisses?" he leans in again to give you a few more of those wet kisses, making taunting kissy sounds that make you scrunch up your face and mewl.
"gonna make you feel reeeally good baby, gonna make this little pussy cream all over me, yeah?" he rambles, grabbing the knife with his free hand, bringing it back to your neck. "please rafe, i've never- "
"you waited for me? huh? princess saved herself for me." you can hear his smile, he's almost relieved that he will be your first and last. he pulls himself out of his boxers and starts to line himself up. "i would'a stretched you out a bit first but this cunt is a dripping mess already so."
you scream as you feel his fat tip press against your entrance. "shhhhshh, s'just the tip." he murmurs, easing himself in slowly until he's stretching you as you've never felt, his tip kisses your cervix. "ow! it's too big, too much, too big..." you ramble, squeezing down on his cock unable to really move due to the knife.
"n'you are so tight, fuck, this is where you should'a always been..taking me like this babydoll." he grits through his teeth as he starts to thrust causing you to whine and to try and pull your hands away from his grip.
"keep cryin', it's only making me harder princess," he grunts, tears continue to stream down your face. he pounds into you now hard and fast, you wish you could grab onto his shoulders or hair as he starts to hit that sweet spot.
"stop it! rafeeee" you whine, he shushes you by tossing the knife on the bed again and covering your mouth with his hand as he continues his assault on your cunt. "i should cum in you, knock you up so you won't ever be able to leave me." he breathes out, he lets go of your face and wraps that hand around your neck to bring you up to kiss your neck. "no! no no please pull out! please rafe!" you cry.
he lets go of your neck and throws you back down you your face hits the mattress again, he lets go of your wrists so you are now gripping your sheets. "you know that's the knife i used to stab your boyfriend? he begged like a little bitch. he didn't deserve you." he reaches a hand around to grab your pussy and pull you closer to him, then rubbing your throbbing clit.
"m'na cummm" you mewl, body giving into how he's touching you so roughly yet gently.
"i know baby, give it to me, all over my cock c'mon" he encourages with that tone, and feeling him so deep in you and hitting that spot your body goes numb. shutting your eyes tightly as hot white explodes in you making you feel like you are on a roller-coaster.
he grips your waist and with the other hand, he's lovingly brushing back your messy baby hairs due to your sweaty forehead. "atta girl, thereee, see? i knew you could be good for me." he thrusts once more hard and deep, shooting his thick hot load all up in you causing you to whine at the feeling and making him groan.
he pulls out of you, sticking his two fingers into your pussy to push his cum back in, then leaning in to bite your ass. you let out a little scream, he flips you on your back and grabs the knife, gripping your thigh he brings the knife over to carve a little RC into the meat of your thigh. you try not to thrash around but you do let out another little scream at the pain.
"yer' all mine now kid." he smiles, exhaustion taking over as you let out shaky breaths and let him lean in to press icky kiss to your lips. ᥫ᭡
#tw blood#tw knives#tw knife play#tw noncon#gardengirl222#lenepilar'sobx!⋆₊ ⊹#gardengirl'sobx!⋆₊ ⊹#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#rafe cameron prompt#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#slasher!rafe#slasher!rafe cameron#ghostface rafe#dark!rafe x reader#dark!rafe cameron#dark!fic#dark!rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron noncon#rafe imagine#dark rafe cameron#rafe smut#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut
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Winter's King 2
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: we vibing.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Jazlene comes to with a wispy sigh. You back up and stand as her mother helps her to her feet. The king is back at the table, unbothered by the overcome maiden. Lord Dustan hovers between, torn by loyalty to his liege and his family. New liege, that is. Only yesterday, he was toasting to good King Waleran.
“My apologies, your highness,” Jazlene fans herself with her hand, “I was only surprised. I didn’t... How could I expect this? To marry a king?” She reaches down to grip her mother’s arm, shakily stepping forward towards the king who doesn’t even glance up from the table of maps, “I promise to you, your highness, I will be a good wife to you.”
The king tilts his head, tracing a finger along a ridge of mountains, then leans in to examine the riverbeds below. Jazlene looks at her mother, an expression of concern on her pretty features. She is rarely ignored, if at all. She will make sure that she isn’t.
“Lord Dustan, I expect the dowry will be served along with your men and my kingdom,” the king declares, “but now, I find myself fatigued. A hard day’s ride sees me in need of bath and a bed.”
Dustan bows his head, “and so you will have it, your highness. I will send down for water--”
“Have the maid see to it,” the king waves his hand vaguely in your direction, “certainly a servant is a servant.”
“Yes, your highness, how wise,” Dustan simpers, as he often does to men with titles above his own. “You,” the duke turns and snaps his fingers, “you heard the king. He requires hot water in his chamber.”
You keep your head down, “yes, my lord.”
You spin without hesitation. You’re all too happy to be free of the noble intrigue. It is rather easier to be unseen and unthought of. It has ever kept you from envying these ladies and their silks and these lords and their golden signets.
Your flight is fleet. You rush down the corridor and to the wide stairwell. You descend with your mission and pass Merinda as she paces listlessly outside the kitchens. She stops you with an arm across your path.
“There are whispers,” she says lowly, “of who visits. Is it true?”
You look at her. You don’t know if you should say. It isn’t her place and you don’t know what they say. There is rather much gossip in castles.
“It is,” she hisses, “you don’t need to say it. You are a poor liar and when you say nothing, I know that is the reason.”
Your lips pinch and you give her a look, “I have been sent to draw a bath.”
“Oh, is the lady in need of her evening boil?” Merinda snickers.
“Not her.”
Merinda quiets and tilts her head, “...him?”
“The king,” you answer thinly.
She nods and steps closer, “is he... I don’t understand. His soldiers, they mill about with our own, they cavort together. Not as enemies. Are they not invading? Do they not mean to take the castle?”
You tear your eyes away. She’s right, you are a poor liar. You lean in, lips right by her ear, you whisper, “Lord Dustan has new allegiances.”
She claps her hand over her mouth as you back up. She stares at you with wide eyes. She slowly drops her arm and her lip quivers, “he means to get us all killed.”
You push your shoulders up, “think only of today. It’s all we can do. Oh, do you know where the king’s chambers would be?”
“Mm, they took his saddlebags to the ivory room. I think there,” she answers, “do you require assistance?”
“Stay here,” you gird, “he is a brusque man.”
That only seems to worry her more as her face twists. You can’t help but feel the same inside but you do your best not to let it show. You leave her and carry on to your task.
You put the kitchen hands to boiling water and send a few others to find a tub to bring to the king’s chambers. You help where you can and take the first bucket up. You pour it into the large tub in the ivory room and return for second, a third, a forth, and fifth. There will be many more even as your arms ache and your nap slickens with sweat.
Upon the eight, when the tub looks near halfway, the chamber is not empty. You’re surprised by the king’s presence as the door remains ajar. You pour the water with a low apology and diligent ‘your highness.’ He doesn’t respond.
There is much to go still. Back down, up again, hot water splashing on your sleeves, singing beneath, dumping it over the edge as you keep your eyes on your work. Do not be more than a piece of furniture. You are only air.
At the last bucket, you pour slowly, careful not to slosh over the edges. As you right the empty pail, you hear a metal chink. The king growls into a long exhale. You turn towards the door.
“Close it,” he commands, “you will remain.”
You’re happy he cannot see the look on your face. You obey and close the door. You turn back, standing by the pillar of the door frame, as you often do, and begin your vigil. It should not be unexpected that he may require you to fetch something further for him.
Your eyes catch the bottom of his mail as he lifts it over his head. No, don’t look. He undresses, leather creaking, fabric rustling, pacing as he strips away each piece. You grip the rope handle of the bucket. He circles the long tub and nears you. You cower, bracing. You are not noticed, you are not approached, unless it is for rebuke.
He grabs the bucket by the brim and tugs. You let it go. He turns and sets it on the floor away from you. You push your hands together, stilling a tremble. He wears only his breeches and you catch a glimpse of the thatch of hair along his thick stomach. You gulp and twine your fingers through each other.
He turns away and crosses the room. You listen to the fabric fall from around his hips. Your eyes bore into the floorboards. The water shifts as he climbs into the tub and you listen to him groan as he lowers himself into the depths. The steam mingles with the tension of his silence.
He sighs and stirs the water. The lull persists as you wait. He will need wine or food.
“Come,” he bids and your eyes flick up. The tub conceals much of his lower body as his thick shoulders and arms stretch around the brim. “I have a knot.”
You approach hesitantly, unsure where to aim your eyes the closer you get. He gestures around his head, “stand behind me.”
You do as he tells you.
He sits up slightly and bends his head forward, lifting his white hair out of the way, “here.”
He points along the muscle beside his neck. It’s thick, just like all of him. You’ve never seen a man built like that. There are stringy barn boys and tubby cooks.
You stare and raise a hand, hovering it over his muscle. Are you supposed to touch him? He is a king and you are a servant. You are a servant sold out of pig shit into servitude.
His large hand reaches for yours and he guides it down. You shake before he lets you go. You feel the muscle, almost curious, and rub lightly. He makes a noise but you’re unsure of its tenor.
“Harder,” he demands, “squeeze,” he shows his hand, making a kneading motion, “you cannot hurt me.” You do as he says. You squeeze and he rests his hand against the tub, “harder,” he repeats.
You obey.
His head hangs as his long strands touch the water. You bring your other hand up as your efforts make your tendons sore. He lets out shallow breaths and hissing groans. Your chest thumps at the sounds that rise from him.
“Your master has broken his oath and sworn a new one to me. And you, does that make me your master as well? If I am your master’s master?” He asks slyly.
You focus on your hands, “your highness?”
“Answer, don’t be afraid. Liars bore me.”
You sniff and mull your reply. You don’t know. You don’t have much of a choice in the matter.
“Lord Dustan is my master. I am bound to serve him.”
He snorts and lifts his head. You rescind your touch but he reaches back to latch onto your again. He tugs you forward, placing your hand back on his shoulder.
“Softer now,” he instructs. You rub his damp flesh as he bends a leg, his knee poking above the water. “You, a servant, so low, and you are more loyal than any man with a title.”
“Your highness, I must serve.”
“As he must. Did he not swear himself to the old king? Eh? War does muddy the waters,” he muses, “coin does test old ties.”
You say nothing. Your comment isn’t warranted or wanted. You know better. Jazlene taught you only to answer when asked.
“Very well,” he taps your fingers, “I feel better. You have a kind touch.”
You back away and wipe your hands on your apron. He hangs his head back and puffs. He closes his eyes. You watch the white waves made wilder by the humidity of the bath.
“I hate sleeping in strange places,” he says, “you will stay for the eve.”
You tuck your chin down and fold your hands together. Your scalp sweats beneath your cap, your shorn locks itchy with the heat. You wet your lips and force out the air trapped in your chest, “yes, your highness. As my master bid, I will serve you.”
He says nothing more as he leans back against the tub completely. His large arms frame the metal and his hands wrap around the edges. He closes his shining eyes in recline, the water still and steaming. He stays that way until the damp heat dissipates. You stand locked in his thrall.
He sits forward suddenly, the water stirring with his movement. He turns his hand and beckons with his thick fingers.
“A bath sheet,” he demands.
You go to the chest in the corner and open it. You retrieve a folded swath of fabric and bring it to him. He stands as you unfold the length of linen to obscure his form. Your eyes are on the ceiling as the water slakes from his figure and he looms large above you.
He steps out, close to you, and puts his hands over yours. He pulls the sheet around his body, your arms too. He releases you only as he adjusts the fabric around his waist and you retract with humiliation nipping in your cheeks. You lean back on your heel as you shrink in his shadow.
“Your highness, do you require refreshment? Wine? Sweetmeats?”
“I did not ask for it,” he says, “I am tired.”
“Apologies, your highness.”
“Do not apologise for doing your duty. Would be a fairer world if more were so diligent.”
He turns and strides away. There’s a knapsack and bedroll against the wall. He keeps one hand on the sheet and unbuckles the flap, reaching within and tugging out a bed shirt. He drops the sheet away and your eyes flit away from his nakedness. He has no shame but you are merely a servant. He shouldn’t care for your witness.
He swipes the fabric over his head and it falls just to his thighs, concealing just enough to have him decent. His thick legs are trimmed in dark hair and the muscles are taut beneath his skin. He faces the bed and pulls back the quilt and linen. He pauses and looks up at you.
“Will you sleep afoot then?” He wonders.
“Your highness?” You wince. “I must...” you peer around, “empty the bath.”
“Must you? Stagnant water can wait,” he insists. “Come.”
You waver, skirts rippling around your legs. You step forward and stagger.
“The lantern, your highness?” You inquire.
“Douse the light if you will,” he allows. “And come.”
You do as he bids and snuff out the flame. Your vision is left blackened and formless. You reach out blindly, realising your error too late. You can’t see much as you walk warily towards the bed. The heavy curtains are shut and block out the sliver of moonlight.
Your knees hit the bed and you gasp. You catch yourself before you can fall forward, leaning against the mattress. You’re stuck like that, uncertain if you should go forward or back. Something wraps around your wrist, a stolid heat.
“I often sleep with my horse,” the king says as he draws you onto the bed. “I need a warm body close.”
You go rigid as you let him command your body. He guides you to lay down and tugs the bedclothes over you. The damp specks on your dress and apron cling to your skin. He leads your head over his thick arm as he lays on his back neck to you. You stare into the endless void of the canopy.
“The horse smells much worse and snores,” he muses, his arm curling around your shoulders, offering a more comfortable rest for your head and neck. You quiver at being so close. It is an odd request but you daren’t decline it. “Be still,” his other hand comes to touch your sleeve, “and sleep. I only mean to ease my own unrest.”
You close your eyes and exhale. Your heart is pounding and your body is tingling. You don’t think you can sleep with the surge flowing through you. He sighs and shifts slightly. You lay there, in silence, only the noise of his breath and yours to fill the castle walls.
“I am awake,” he says. “Speak to me, maid. Tell me, where do you lay your head on nights where a king does not trouble you?”
You wiggle slightly. Your spine is uncomfortable at the flatness but not worse than your usual fare. You bring your hand over your chest and fist your fingers tight.
“On a bag of hay with Merinda,” you utter smally, pushing your legs together as you arch your back slightly. Your hips are tight.
You’re startled as the bed jostles and he grips your hip. He rolls you onto your side, his touch lingers as he pulls you against him. He is as hot as a hearth.
“Merinda?” He repeats.
“Another handmaid, your highness.”
He hums and drags his hand away from your hip. He blows out a great heavy and grunts. His arm curls around you snugly.
“I hope I am preferable to that bag of hay,” he mutters and the tension seeps away from his form. “Though perhaps just as prickly.”
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#the witcher#winter's king#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#medieval au
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The Price Of Not Winning - Max Verstappen
Dark fic - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS
Request from anon - Dark fic! Max smut with corporate / bts employee who butts head with him often. He loses a race due to her and is out for blood after the race.
Warnings/themes: Smut (rough/hate sex, choking, head-pushing, orgasm denial), abuse of power in the workplace, degradation
No part 2 requests please
It didn't make sense.
Sure Max had argued it but all the other strategists agreed, her strategy should've given him the win.
"It's alright, y/n. We all have a bad day." Another strategist states though he's wincing patting her back because they all know that the golden boy reigning champion argued the strategy wouldn't work.
And it didn't.
It's y/n's fault.
Something Max surely won't be letting her forget, especially since it ended with him P6. Not even the top 5.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Y/n wheezes as they sit down awaiting Max for the debrief.
"He seems in good spirits for media." One of the other strategists states while GP sits down silently which means one thing. That his driver is going to be a storm.
By the time Max appears, y/n feels like she's almost trembling but the moment he opens his mouth looking directly at her.
"I don't want y/n on my strategy again." Max states making Christian, GP and everyone else look at her. The fearful expression turning to one of angry very quickly.
"I have given you one bad strategy-for which I am sorry. But I have given you dozens of race winning strategies." Y/n reminds him through gritted teeth.
"One too many bad strategies."
"As if you've never fucked up a race on your own."
"Enough." Christian calls snapping them out their back and forth. "We're done. Everyone get out of here. We'll regroup at base before the next race when everyone has calmed down."
The room can't exit quick enough, including GP and Christian, but Max makes a b-line to y/n, his hand catching her throat while he body blocks the view from any prying eyes.
"You lost me that race and you'll pay for that."
Y/n couldn't talk if she wanted to, her body is frozen in fear of his actions and the fact his hand is currently very tightly around her throat. But it's when his thumb strokes over her thumping pulse.
"You'll be lucky if I don't have your job for what you did today." Max states before releasing her and leaving the room making her let out her breath she'd been forced to hold.
-
Y/n sighs walking into her room and pressing her forehead against the back of the door as it clicks closed.
"Fucking stupid." Y/n grumbles to herself.
"I agree." Max states making her jump and spin. "I decided I'm not done with you."
Y/n is torn between outrage and terrified. How the hell did he even get in her room?
"Come here, y/n." Max instructs but she certainly isn't being bossed about. "If you want to prove that you're not completely useless in the team, then you want to do as I say right now."
Y/n wants to argue that Max simply doesn't have that power and that he's out of his mind if he thinks she'll do anything he says. But y/n also knows that Max is well within the power of leaving her unemployed by the end of the day if he just so wishes.
So she walks over and the moment she's is in front of him there's a look on his face that tells her he might've lost the race. But he's winning the war between them.
"You have a problem not know when to open your mouth and when to keep it closed. So I want you on your knees and you're going to get the true taste of a champion."
"Your dick is not going anywhere near my mouth."
"You don't really have much of an option, do you?" Max questions reminding her of what she has to lose. Pride or her job. But what does she value more.
There's other jobs. Facing Max every day knowing he's touched her like that is going to bruise the pride.
But could it bruise it anymore than today?
Y/n swallows dropping to her knees and reaching for his shorts since he seems to be in workout gear. Even before she's pulled it out the size is intimidating.
"If you want to fuck me, next time just say so." Y/n comments earning a smirk.
"I didn't even have to say it directly for you to do it...so clearly I don't need to say so. Now put that mouth to what I'm sure is it's one worthwhile use." Max instructs making her jaw shift before she pulls him out, suddenly wishing her mouth wasn't so dry.
He does let her ease herself into it, her tongue soft against the tip before she slides his dick into her mouth but after a while of her own speed, Max proves that the track isn't the only place her prefers things to go at a faster pace.
She feels him gather her hair surprisingly gently but that's when his softness ends and she feels his hand pushing himself down her throat as if she has no limit. Something she very much does, but by this point fighting it is pointless and she hates that the manhandling is very effectively turning her on. Though she's not sure that's his intention.
Eventually he pulls her back making her scalp burn a little from the pull. But at least she can breathe more than half a breath.
"You didn't..." Y/n mumbles before seeing his hand hold out to her which she takes with an untrusting frown.
"No, I want the real thing if I'm going to finish where I want-unless you want to ruin that too?"
Y/n doesn't hide the glare as he undoes her trousers and leaves them sliding down her legs till they're pooling at her feet while he pulls her top off over her head. She forward before kneeling over him, straddling him. Hovering over his dick as he holds it, teasing her with it and making her face hot as she twitches from the feel.
"Fuck." Y/n whimpers finally sliding down on him.
Similarly to giving him head, she controls the pace and depth before finding him taking control when he throws her down on the sofa so he's on top and y/n is actually certain the man must just be a perfectionist with everything because his ability to locate her g-spot once he's in control is scary.
She's also pretty certain he's rearranging some organs from the sheer speed and depth he's going at. And while she'd like to deny any of this feel good because Max is a twat with the personality of a bull. She's not sure she's ever had sex this good.
"Fuck, don't stop. Please."
She's so close that when she feels a few more thrust and then him pull out, she's about to scream when she feels his cum coat her tummy and and she pants about ready to cry. She might actually cry, she's never felt so empty and actually maybe betrayed.
"You-"
"I didn't let you finish. That's a privilege you get when I've won the next race." Max states then sighing as his fingers tease her twitching, puffy hole that is contract around the memory of him but deprived of the climax she's so desperate for. "Remember this feeling next time you are actually trusted with making the call for strategy."
Y/n is silent watching Max redress and stand up, though he pauses looking down at her, naked and with his cum still pooled on her skin before running his finger through the warm cum and poking it into her slightly open mouth from her still panting to catch her breath. She salty flavour on her tongue making her obediently suck it from his finger before she moves back.
Then in a nightmare-ish moment.
He suddenly has his phone out and is snapping some pictures of her.
"I'll see you at the next race."
Y/n swallows not looking as he walks out, the door clicking closed before she finally realises what just happened.
And how badly she needs it to happen again. Only possibly with an orgasm in the end and not just a shower of his cum onto her skin while she twitches and aches with a need for him to come back and do it until she's a mess of putty in his hands.
#dark!max verstappen#dark max verstappen#dark!f1#dark f1#dark!fic#f1#fanfic#formula 1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen smut#max f1#max verstappen#max verstappen fic#max verstappen f1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen angst#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen x you#mv1 fanfic#mv1#mv1 x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 fic#mv1 x you#mv1 x y/n#mv1 one shot
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Unsought Betrothal - Part 2 - Part One Here
Dark!Aemond x Reader Velaryon x Cregan Stark
Summary: After attempting to humilate your betrothed by laying with Lord Cregan Stark the night before your wedding in the hopes that Aemond would call the wedding off, you find that not only is he determined to still wed you, but also to punish you for your indiscretions. Part One Here
Pairings: Dark!Aemond x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Cregan x Aemond
Warnings: Arranged marriage, threats of violence, acts of violence, forced voyeurism, dubcon, elements of noncon, naked reader, clothed men, fingering, finger fucking, pussy slapping, p in v sex, creampie, pussy eating, cum eating, degradation, praise, voyeur.
Word Count: 13k oops... sorry
Notes: Wow, whelp, its been a while since I have posted some of my writing, and even longer since I wrote the first part of this abomination, but when you get the urge, you just gotta scratch it. Thank you all for all your beautiful messages of kindness as usual, I'm sorry I've been gone a while. I have had a bit of a rough time this year but hopes for a brighter future! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope I can write again very soon for you, hehe ;) Enjoy! <3
The wedding came just as it was planned. Just as it was arranged. Sleep had evaded you, anger and confusion clouding your mind with memories of the night before, ache still throbbing between your thighs. Your little attempt at stopping the engagement had no affect on your betrothed. No affect on the uncle you had grown up with. On the man you would now call husband.
You had thought that if you could humiliate Aemond in court by flirting with Lord Cregan Stark that he would call off the engagement. That the embarrassment would be too much for the pious prince. That the shame would turn him away from you, making him demand to his mother that they call off the engagement.
You had thought that maybe if you lost your maidenhead to the Northerner, Aemond would be so disgusted, so filled with rage, that he would call the engagement off, what with him being a dedicated follower of the Seven.
But you were wrong.
And so you spent an evening limping back into the Keep, escorted by none other than the One-eyed Prince himself and Ser Crispin. The front of your bodice had been ripped by Aemond's hands, but thankfully your hooded cloak covered up your sullied gown, the bottom of it dirtied with mud from where Aemond had bent you over in the alleyway and taken you roughly. With each step you took, you felt his seed slide down your legs, sticking to your inner thighs tackily.
When you got to your chambers, you used the small basin at your dressing table filled with water to wipe and wash away the blood and seed from your body, pain and a lingering dull ache causing you to jerk with each swipe.
You didn’t get much sleep that evening, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The urge to run was strong, to just leave out into the night through one of the secret passages and onto your dragons back, but the urge to stay was stronger. You hated him, truly hated him, but the way he had treated you that night, the fire in his eye, it lit something inside of you. It almost made you want him.
Need him.
Yet, there was another urge to stay, to make his life hell. To humiliate him at every turn, to ensure that he knew that forcing the engagement to continue would ensure him a life long marriage of discontent and disharmony.
You were not going to bend to his will. You were not going to bend to his needs, to bow at the husband, and say ‘yes’, and ‘thank you’, and ‘please’. You were going to be who you have always been.
A Valaryian.
Your eyes stayed open, watching as the ceiling eventually became light with the sun, indicating the break of dawn, and soon enough your maids were entering your chambers to get you ready to be wed. You were thankful that none of them asked questions about the dirtied ripped gown, or the bloodied rag in the basin, though you knew they were likely already aware.
The doors to your chambers opened as they pulled your hair back, pinning it atop your head in masses of braids with gold pins, tips glowing red with circular rubies. The colour of your mothers house dripping from you. Footsteps moved through your chambers, your head lifting to find Rhaenyra coming towards you, wearing a dress of black. Her silver hair half up, half down, small braids weaving around the back of her head beautifully.
A soft smile pulled on her lips as she came towards you, causing you to turn in your seat to fully face her. She looked sad and also lovingly devoted all at once. And whilst you knew it was not her greatest wish to marry you off to her half-brother, you also both knew that it was the only way to prevent bloodshed.
“My sweet.” Rhaenyra cooed, a slender hand coming to brush against your cheek dotingly, the scar on her arm from Alicent peeking beneath the cuff of her dress.
Blood already shed.
“Muña.” You smiled back, pulling her hand down into your lap.
Your mother leant forward and placed a kiss atop your head, “You look so beautiful, my love.”
“Thank you, mother.”
“Are you ready?” Her tone was gentle, as though she didn’t wish to startle you. As though she didn’t want to break the bubble that was the safety of your chambers.
The last time in your chambers as an unwed woman.
You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and she could see it, “I must be.”
The small smile she had worn slid away, “This is not what I had intended for you. I did not wish to force you as I had been. I wish-“
“-I know.” You squeezed her hand, “I understand. It is my duty as your daughter to be wed to the Hightower’s to prevent bloodshed and war. To ensure your ascension to the throne. Let me perform my duty for you.”
“You know that we love you.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand back, “Daemon has almost gone mad with rage. He does not wish to see you be wed to him. Luc feels that it is his fault.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from either of them.” You stood, still clutching her hand.
Her violet eyes roamed down your body.
The dress you wore was similar to the one she had worn for her wedding to Laenor, white with gold and licks of red in the lining. The dress sat below your collarbones and drooped against your shoulders, pearlescent beads sewn onto the short sleeves like dragon scales with a red silk peaking underneath.
“I wish this could be different for you.” She came to your side, placing a white cloak atop your shoulders, the Velaryon House sigil embroidered on the back, readying you to leave your chambers.
You looped your arm in hers, steeling a breath before you gave her a confident smile, “I don’t.”
-
Your heart rattled in your chest as you tried to stop the anxiety that churned nauseatingly in your stomach. Your hand was clenched tightly against Daemons arm, who slowly walked you down the many tables filled with people towards the man who would soon be your husband.
“Breathe.” Daemon cooed softly in your ear, his hand attempting to soothe you with soft brushes against yours.
Your eyes had not once left Aemond, who watched you with a dark glare.
The second son stood before the table, Viserys slumped behind him in his chair, the barest of smiles on his rotted face, half covered by a golden mask as you came towards them all. Your mother and Alicent sat on either sides of the King, followed by your brothers, your uncles, your cousins, and your aunt.
Aemond stood stiffly as he always did, the perfect posture with his shoulders back. He was higher on the stairs so that he looked down his nose at you, which wasn’t different to any other time he did. Each step towards him was nerve-wracking, the Lords and Ladies who had travelled far and wide watching you with keen eyes.
When finally you were standing before him, Daemon let go, coming to stand between you and Aemond momentarily, breaking your eye contact for the first time since you entered the room. Your uncle Daemon’s face was a kind one, and one you had grown to love as a step-father. He did not offer you a reassuring smile like your mother did, nor did he offer a consoling one. Instead, he leant forward to press a kiss to the side of your face before standing straight, towering over the both of you in both height and size before he moved back towards the table, sitting beside your mother.
And so the ceremony began.
In the light of the chambers Aemond looked sinister, shadows cast across his sharp face as he continued to look down his nose at you, chin still raised high. The Prince’s hair was styled in the way that it always was; straight and down his back, with two plain pieces pulled away from the sides of his face, tied neatly behind his head. He wore all black, the lining and undershirt the deepest of greens that was almost onyx. A symbol of his mother and her war that she had declared on a night such like this, many years ago.
The room felt hot, the back of your neck sweating as you stared at each other, all eyes pinned on you as the Septon’s voice boomed throughout the room.
“Father, Mother, Warrior,” The old mans voice was so loud in your ear that you winced, “Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows.”
You swallowed thickly, momentarily looking down at your hands before back into his sole lilac one, watching as his posture straightened further, surprised that he could even do so.
“I am yours, and you are mine.” Aemond’s voice dipped lower, “Whatever may come.”
Your throat felt dry, but your gut was filled with anticipation. You were frightened, but there was something else simmering beneath it all. A need for the danger he brought, a feeling of protection from him. Not from him and his anger, but from others.
A possessive desire.
The Septon looked at you impatiently to say your vows, and a small wave of quiet whispers spread across the room as you stood silently. The Prince shifted on his feet, muscles in his jaw clenching.
“I am yours,” You breathed softly, hands gripping each other tightly in front of your dress, “And you’re mine. Whatever may come.”
The purple of Aemond’s eye was half hidden by his lid, his gaze having softened at your short vow. You watched as the corner of his sharp lips twitched upwards lightly into a small smirk.
The Septon continued, “Here in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”
Man and Wife.
Wed to Aemond Targaryen.
Your husband.
Now and forever.
An eruption of congratulatory joy spread throughout the room, the noise almost deafening as everyone celebrated what could be your demise. And though the noise around you was distracting, you could not look away from him, even as he shifted closer.
Aemond’s hand lifted and you flinched, the only people having noticed was your family seated behind you. His hand continued despite your shock to cup the side of your face and jaw, and as quickly as it happened, it ended. Aemond’s face grew closer as his eye slid shut, pressing his lips tenderly to yours in a brief moment before he pulled away, hand dropping back down to his side. The hand that had cupped your face grasped your hand for all to see, before he led you around to your seat at the table.
-
The night of celebrations became a blur, too in shock to really enjoy yourself, but wine still flowing heavily. Most of your evening you spent ignoring your new husband, opting to speak mostly to your mother and brothers, as well as Daemon and his daughters, who threw you pitying smiles, yet words of encouragement.
Aemond sat by your side, though he made no effort to join your conversations or create ones of his own. He had always been the quiet of his siblings, always sticking to the shadows and tomes of the library, never quite fitting in.
Helaena leant forward towards you, Otto eyeing her warily whilst Alicent looked as though she was about to chastise her daughter. In your aunts hand was a beetle, all black, though when the light of the candles shone on his shell, it seemed to glow. Greens and blues, and purples and pinks, danced across the beetles wings as it crawled atop her hand.
Your aunt had always loved insects, and had always been a sweet and kind person. You loved Helaena, and if there was anything that could help you endure living in the Red Keep alone without your family, it would be her.
“He appears dark,” She breathed watching as it crawled through a gap in her fingers and back towards her palm, “But if you look closely, you’ll find that he’s not.”
You shuffled in your seat, your shoulder pressed to hers as you ducked your head to look closer at the beetle, “He’s quite beautiful.”
Healaena lifted her face towards you, as she smiled at you dreamily, “He is, if you let him.”
Frowning, you looked back to the beetle, “How do I let a beetle be a beetle?”
Helaena did not answer you, instead continuing to twist and turn her hand as the bug crawled around on it.
Aegon watched from above the rim of his cup, drunk with red rimmed eyes. His hair was oily and wavy, unbrushed atop his round face. You could not help but feel a shiver crawl over you as he smiled.
“Our sweet niece and brother are finally married.” Aegon purred, Helaena barely giving him a second glance as though over the years she had attuned herself into pretending that he did not exist.
“A joyous occasion, uncle.” You smiled falsely back, picking up your own goblet of wine, ready to go back to talking with Helaena. Or the beetle.
Anything to escape Aegon.
“Do you know what happens tonight? After the celebrations of course.” Your uncles voice creeped along the surface of the table like a snake, so that only you and his siblings could hear.
You swallowed thickly.
Of course you did.
You had done it last night.
Bar a bed. Or walls.
In fact, it wasn’t even in the Keep, and instead in a dirty alley in Flea Bottom, hidden amongst the shadows.
“I’m aware.” Your voice was clipped, which seemed to goad Aegon.
“And how does our sweet little niece know of such things?”
You swallowed thickly, head turning to look at Aemond, whose eye was trained on his brother.
“My Septa.” You tuned back to face him, “And your whoring.”
Aegon chuckled, filling up his goblet with wine once more, “I suppose then you know what to expect.”
“Yes.”
“Should you ever be in want of a demonstration-"
“-Leave her be.” Came Aemond’s voice, almost a growl. His hand was clutched tightly around his own goblet as he challenged his older brother to say something more.
Aegon laughed loudly, eyes on his brothers clenched hand before looking up to watch him, “I only jest, brother! It is a night of celebrations!” He thrust his goblet towards the One-Eyed Prince, “It’s not everyday that my little brother is married off to such a beautiful princess. The daughter of the Realm’s Delight, no less. Do you think-“
Helaena shifted, turning her body towards you, “It isn’t so bad.” She spoke emotionlessly into your ear to distract you from Aegon, “It only hurts the first few times.” Your aunt paused in thought, lavender eyes still on the beetle as it moved, before looking at you, “Or when he’s angry. Or drunk.” She added as an afterthought, “But mostly when he’s drunk.”
Sorrow coursed through you for your aunt, your gaze immediately staring into Aegon’s angrily. How could he do this to her? How could he treat her like one of his whores? If not because she is his wife, but because she is his sister. Aegon seemed to sink into his chair after Helaena’s comment, soft anger simmering off of him in small waves.
But Aegon has never truly known when to stop.
“I am sure my brother here will barely draw blood.”
“I am sure your interest in your brothers cock speaks loudly.”
Elbows sloppily placed on the table he leant towards you, “I tried to take him once you know, to a whorehouse.” His voice became more hushed, “He hated it. Made me think that maybe our dear Aemond was perhaps like your father, Laenor.”
Blinding rage shot through you, “Don’t speak about my father.” You hissed, “He was more man than you shall ever be.”
A cruel smirk pulled at Aegon’s lips, “I am sure he has had more men than I ever shall.”
Your hand shot forward to grasp your goblet, ready to hurl it across the table at him, peace be damned, but Aemond was quicker and snatched your wrist before the tips of your fingers could even reach the cup.
A quiet fell over your table as all watched the interaction, your wrist in Aemond’s hand, Aegon smirking cruelly at you, and your face hot with anger.
“I pity you.” You quietly seethed, “Always so desperate to get a reaction out of the people around you, because if you didn’t you would simply cease to exist. Though you are the first son of Viserys, a peasant bastard from Flea Bottom would garner more respect.”
Aegon’s gassed darkened, his mouth readying to fire back at you.
“Aemond.” Alicent called to her son, a questioning and yet chastising tone in her voice.
Aemond looked at his mother, and then back to you, checking to see if you were going to continue on with your thought. But you had grown tired of the grip he had on you, his large hand squeezing your bones painfully as they shifted beneath the skin.
“Don’t touch me.” You sneered at him, snatching your hand away as you stood, chair scraping loudly against the flagstones.
The throne room quietened, all stilling to watch as you stood at the table, seething down at your husband. The rest of your family all watched warily, except for the Rogue Prince who smirked broadly at you. Your chest heaved with anger as you looked down at Aemond, who stared up at you with similar rage.
King Viserys sensing the tension smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, “Our young lovers wish to dance!” A distraction on his end, and a clever one at that.
The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and the musicians in the corner began playing music loudly for all. Lords and Ladies stood from their seats and moved into the centre of the room to dance together.
Glaring down at your husband, your hands clenched into fists, waiting for him. Aemond slowly stood, towering over you, a large hand stretched out towards you, palm up.
“Wife.”
“Husband.” You growled, taking his hand roughly, digging your nails into his skin as you led him down the stairs towards the people.
The court parted to the sides like a wave, creating a path for you straight to the centre as you lead Aemond down to it, almost like a dog. Each man and woman watched with excitement, either for the celebrations or the rising tension between the two of you. You’d be a fool to think that the court wouldn’t love a quarrel to arise so that they may whisper about it in corridors later to come.
It could be a way to press the wound so to speak with Aemond later.
You stopped in the centre, finally letting go of your husband as you spun to face him.
He stood as he always did, stiff, emotionless with a hint of arrogance, watching you with a cool glare. The court waited for you to begin, as the music continued to play, but even then you couldn’t push yourself to touch him. To feel his hands on you once more, alighting a fire within you that you did not know was possible, the embers still burning from the night before.
Would they be able to tell?
That he had already deflowered you in Flea Bottom?
In a dirty alley like one of Aegon’s whores?
In a way, you hoped they would. Let it bring him dishonour. Let it bring him humiliation from the court that his wife would take him in such a filthy, commoner way. You wished for his disdain, you wished for his anger, anything but the clear desire which seemed to move through him as he watched you from down his nose.
“Well?” You snipped, waiting for him to make the first move.
Aemond came forward swiftly, much like he had in the alley, and you had to bite your cheeks to stop the gasp that would have escaped your mouth.
It came to him so naturally to touch you, to hold you. One large hand immediately grasping yours by your side pulling it up, the other skating up your hip, over your collar bone, slowly down your shoulder, and down, down, down your arm.
Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver running down your back as his other hand connected with yours, and slowly but surely, the dance began. Even with the noise of the room, the music playing, the talking, and laughter, and joy from the guests, you could still hear the small little gasps and breaths you let free as you danced with Aemond.
It was likely one of the only times you hadn’t bickered after so long in his presence, let alone whilst touching him. The two of you stayed silent, moving this way and that, your gaze occasionally flitting to the table to your mother and Daemon, who watched with kind eyes.
“Don’t let Aegon goad you.” Aemond finally spoke.
His hand brushed against your shoulders, and round the back of your neck, a heat beginning to simmer in your gut from his touch. You turned to face him, watching as he observed you closely.
“He won’t stop if you show it bothers you.”
“He always bothers me.” You snipped, but this time with much less anger, “He is like a fly you wish to swat but can never reach."
Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you, turning around you slowly, “Mm.”
“Mm.” You mimicked, turning away from him.
“Behave yourself, wife.” Aemond purred, irritation flitting through you momentarily.
“What? Like how behaved yourself last night?”
“I could say much the same to you.”
“A shame then.” You sighed, moving to come chest to chest with him, your breath stilling in your lungs as you looked up at him. You would never get used to how tall he had grown over the years, “You bring much dishonour to your mother.”
“As do you. Whoring yourself to a Lord of the North-“
“-King of the North-“
“-In a dirty, whore riddled tavern.”
“A dirty, whore riddled tavern that you knew about.”
Aemond stilled, his head dipping towards you, “Did you think that I wouldn’t know of your movements in Kings Landing? Did you truly believe that I would be so foolish as to think that you would come to me willingly?”
You swallowed thickly.
“No.” He continued, sucking on his teeth, “You forget that I know you. You are much like your brothers. Getting into places where you don’t belong.”
“And what of yours?” You became defensive at the mention of your brothers, remembering how he and his would call you all bastards, “Loudly and brazenly whoring himself to any and all who would dare risk fucking him.”
“My brothers whoring does not concern me.”
“Then I suppose I am not a concern either.” You sniffed, “You needn’t worry, I am sure that he should find his way into our chambers one way or another.”
The hand on your arm tightened to the point of pain, your cheek twitching as you tried to hold in a wince, “I told you, he is not of concern.”
“I know Aegon. I have heard of what he does-“
“-And you know me. Know that he will not-“
“-He will not, what? Sully me? Taint our marital bed? It is already tainted. You made sure of that last night.” You stood closer to him, still as the others danced around you, your gaze peering up into his as your chest heaved, “But what if I want him to? What if I willingly invite him to take me? I’m sure you do not mind sharing after all, he is your brother.”
Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, before his head slowly ducked beside your ear, “If you think I am fool enough to stoop to your provocations then you must forget that we grew up together, side by side. I know your tricks.” The hand on your arm released its strong grip, coming to brush against the back of your neck, “I know that you despise him just as much as I. I know that you used to cry at the Godswood when he called you bastard.”
You bristled, purposely stepping back as you stared at him angrily. You hated that word. You hated what it meant for you and your siblings. You hated that he and his brother and his mother and the court whispered about all of your parentage. You hated that once, when you had been young, despite all of this, you had been friends.
Rage bubbled up inside of you, and before you could stop yourself you leant forward, hand coming to touch the side of Aemond’s face with his one seeing eye, the other covered by his leather patch.
You rubbed your thumb atop his cheek, “Imply that I am bastard once more, and I shall blind you with the purpose that Lucerys lacked.”
Aemond’s chest rose and fell jaggedly, inhaling breaths faster than yours, anger coursing through his veins. His sharp lips twitched as he watched you, “I wouldn’t dare. I know just how Strong you are, Princess.”
Your thumb moved fast, but Aemond was faster, anticipating your movements. His hand caught yours against his cheek, trapping your fingers between his hand so that they may not move further to pluck his remaining eye from its socket like intended.
“People are watching, ābrazȳrys.” Wife, He purred, though there was a lick of danger behind it.
A warning.
“Ivestragī zirȳ urnēbagon.” Let them watch, You sneered, “Nyke kessa laesdaor ao hae iā dīnilūks irudy.” I shall blind you as a wedding gift.
Aemond’s silver brow lifted, “Skoros iā sȳz irudy.” What a good gift, His eye turned dangerous, “Eman iā irudy syt ao, mēre nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot tepagon.” I have a gift for you, one I did not wish to give.
“Is it your death?” You countered cheerily, not wanting to show him that the way he spoke to you set your hair on end.
“No. I think it will be much better than that. We will both come to enjoy it.” The danger in his eye still flickered like a flame, “I was considering not giving it to you, but since you are behaving so wonderfully, I simply must insist.”
You turned away from him, moving to go back to your seat, “I want nothing from you.”
“And yet, you'll have everything.”
-
As the night grew long, your fears grew larger. And though he had taken you the night before in an alley, his subtle threat of what may come tonight lingered in the back of your mind. Each cup of wine was drained eagerly by your lips, hoping and wishing that you could somehow make yourself sick enough to not have the bedding ceremony.
But it came all the same, just as the wedding had.
Aegon was the one who initiated the beginning of the end.
A large clap came from in front of you, the short haired Prince leaning towards you on the tables with his hands clasped together, silver and gold rings adorning them. A sinister smile pulled at his lips as he beamed at you and his brother.
“The night is late!” He proclaimed loudly to the chambers, many Lords and Ladies turning their heads to watch, “I think we have held these two young lovers hostage for far too long!” Aegon smiled out to the room and then stood, lifting his goblet.
His shirt was untucked, his gait unsteady and he swayed on his feet as he continued, “My brother is too polite to remove himself from festivities such as these! But brother,” He thrusted his cup towards you, “I can see that you wish to take your new wife to bed! The love these two share is a tale for story books, though they are too polite to say a thing.” He chuckled, and laughter followed from the Lords behind you, “Worry not! We will continue the festivities without you!”
Cheers were heard from about the room, though none came from your own table. Aegon sipped his wine greedily, eyes watching you from above the rim of his cup. The Prince took the goblet from his lips and clicked his fingers impatiently beside him, pointing at an uncomfortable Criston Cole who came to his side like a well trained mutt.
“Ser Criston, take these newly weds to my brothers chambers. It seems it is time for the bedding ceremony.”
Ceremony.
Your blood ran cold.
Aemond stood abruptly beside you, head on with his brother.
“No need, Ser Cole.” His smooth voice icy, “I shall escort the Princess there myself.”
Aemond pushed his chair backwards as you continued to stare at Aegon, not quite ready to be alone with the Prince.
Your husband.
You blinked, turning your head towards your family, who all gave you pained smiles. But it was your duty. And you had given your mother your word. Slowly you stood, letting your eyes scan the table, softly landing on your grandsire before meeting with a pair of large brown eyes. Alicent Hightower watched on with a nervous energy, her hands shifting on her lap as you assumed she picked at the skin around her fingers. The look in her eyes almost held empathy.
Almost.
You bowed your head to the King and Queen, ignoring Aegon’s shit eating grin.
“Your Grace.”
Pushing your chair back you ignored the outstretched arm of Aemond and made your way down the stairs, Lords and Ladies watching as you made your slow exit from the room, taking false prideful steps through the court to delay the inevitable, giving all who watched smiles and nods of your head.
The shifting of armour moved loudly behind you, before soon enough, Ser Criston Cole was overtaking your step to lead you out of the chambers and soon to Aemond’s. The white cape attached to his shoulders billowed behind him as he speedily kept on.
The skin on your elbow burned, a hand gripping it tightly as you were momentarily slowed as Aemond came to your side. You refused to meet his eye, feeling his gaze upon the side of your face as you exited the chambers, the sounds of cheering and laughter loud behind you. The chamber doors shut with a thump, the sound dampened and muffled, footsteps echoing down the darkened corridors of the Red Keep.
“Does Ser Criston not wish to watch you bed me?” You sneered, eyes flickering to the lit lamps on the walls as Aemond led you down a wing of the Keep you had scarcely been down.
“I have instructed him to prepare my chambers for your arrival.” Aemond replied, his strides long and rigid as he almost hauled you with him.
“Do not pull me.” You yanked your arm back, halting your steps, “I am not your dog.”
Aemond stilled, looking down his nose at you as he towered above, “Dogs are better behaved.”
The Prince’s head snapped to the side, pain spreading through your palm as you sneered at him. The side of his cheek bloomed an angry red, yet Aemond did not react to your slap, nor did he hit you back, instead, a slow smirk pulled at his lips.
“I shall allow that, but only because I know you will regret it.”
Rising to your tiptoes you tried to make yourself come to eye level, “I regret nothing.”
“Mm.” He looked at you blankly, “I shall give you a choice.” Anger rose within your chest, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, “Come with me to the Godswood.” Your brows furrowed, “Pray to the Gods for forgivingness for striking your husband, kneel and apologise. Swear obeisance to me-”
“-If you think-“
“-And I shall let you go to your own chambers alone. No need for a bedding ceremony after last night.”
You flushed, swallowing thickly, “I would never lower myself to apologising to a second son. And especially not to a Prince who is owed no inkling of respect.”
Aemond watched you for a beat, eye scanning your face as his held flat, “Then we continue to my chambers.” The hand that pulled you began again, and your feet struggled to keep up with his, bruises no doubt to be on the tender flesh of your arm in the morning.
Your heart raced in your chest as you felt yourself get closer to his chambers, his strides not once slowing down, though you tried to dig your heels into the flagstones to slow him.
“You care not to have a woman enthusiastic in your bed?” You tugged fruitlessly at your arm, “You wish to drag me to a night of suffering, like a savage. Like your brother, Aegon.” You sneered, fruitlessly tugging your arm to escape his grip.
“A savage would have had you atop the table before all to see when you first defied me. I gave you a chance to apologise, remember that you scorned it.”
“A chance? What chance was I given? A loveless marriage with a man who is not my equal? A burden I am forced to bear as I am forced to lay beneath him!”
Aemond’s steps halted once more, almost causing you to crash into him, his fingers tightening against your arm as he yanked you against his chest angrily, “You needlessly make this more difficult. I extended an offering to you of peace, and you burnt it.”
“Peace?” You screeched incredulously, “You have done naught but provoke me! Naught but push and prod and goad me into reaction so that you may justify your sick desires.”
“Provoke you? I seem to recall you sneaking into Flea Bottom to try and lay with a Lord to spite me.”
“I was trying to save us from a loveless and cruel union.”
“Us? Or yourself?”
You paused, mouth feeling dry. Anger and fear swirled within your gut viscously as you stared at him. The both of you panting heavily at one another. Aemond shifted, moving away from the wall beside you, revealing two large wooden doors.
You were there.
And you had not even realised.
“Wife.” Aemond purred sarcastically before pushing open the door, the smell of his room engulfing you.
It smelt of him, but far more intensely. Of leather and smoke, and spices which he dabbed his skin with, and still, behind all of this, the natural scent of him. The smell that was only his and his alone. A scent that had wrapped around you in that alleyway the night before.
The fireplace raged wildly, the room filled with dark mahogany furniture. There was a chaise, arm chairs, a table seated for six, a large bed on the other end, a reading desk with piles of books and scrolls, and candles sitting on every surface, lighting the room.
The second thing you observed as your eyes roamed the space was that you were not alone.
Your heart skipped in your chest.
There by the bed, was a man sat in a chair. Arms tied down to it as his feet were tightly bound to the legs. His long dark hair was knotted atop his head as he stared at you in shock, and beside him, Ser Criston Cole.
“Cregan?” You breathed in shock, running towards the Northerner as you dropped to your knees, hand reaching out to cup his face as he only looked at you with sorrow, “Are you hurt?”
“I did warn you,” Aemond growled from behind, “That you would regret it. I had a plan, you see. A moment of mercy to let you apologise at the Godswood, for you to go-“
“-Let him go!”
“-To your chambers untouched and unscathed. I had given you a choice, and this is the one you have chosen.”
You turned your head sharply to face Aemond, “What have you done?”
“This man was caught conspiring against the crown. He planned to take the Princess’ honour and humiliate her betrothed. A Prince.” His lilac eye held Cregan’s icy blue ones, “I have done my duty by capturing this traitor to the realm.”
Fear began to bubble inside of you, eyes looking back to Cregan. The left side of his face was bruised, small cuts littered across his cheek and brow. His soft lips were swollen and split, and dried blood had gathered in one corner.
“He is innocent.” Your knees ached as they dug into the stones below, your upper body turning to face Aemond again, “He knew naught of what I was doing. Punish me. Let him go.”
Aemond hummed and walked towards you, “Brave. Admirable if it wasn’t for nothing. No. I gave you a choice before, and you have made your choice. I gave you the option to apologise, to bend to me as your husband, to go to your chambers alone, but this is what you have chosen. This was your choice.”
“You gave me no choice!” You sneered, moving to stand, shielding Cregan’s body with your own, “All this talk of choices when all you have gave was an unknown ultimatum.”
“A choice nonetheless. Godswood or chambers. And so here we are. The consequences of your actions.” The Prince came closer, shadows cast across his face, “I told you that you would regret it.”
“You’re a savage! A foul beast.”
A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips, “Choose your words carefully, wife. I have no qualm with slitting his throat where he sits should you continue to defy me.”
Cregan pulled against his restraints, angrily sneering at Aemond, who simply hummed once more as he came to stand before you, looking down at you with false pity, “But, it is the night of our union, and the betrayal is still fresh and something I am willing to move past. I shall give you another choice. One that I feel may be far too lenient.”
Tears began to well in your eyes.
This was all your fault.
“The Lord of Winterfell shall sit where he is, and watch as I fuck you in ways that he never shall-“
“-You disgust me!”
“-Or he shall be tried and hung for treason.” Aemond came closer, his chest almost brushing against yours as he stared at you, “The choice is yours.”
You sneered upwards at your uncle, tears gathering in your eyes, “I would rather die than let you touch me again.”
“I recall you seeming to enjoy it, wetting my cock in that filthy alley as you begged for it.” He purred, hand lifting to brush hair from your face as he sighed, “I don’t mind what you choose, I could simply slit his throat myself right now? If you'd prefer it?”
A lone tear fell down your cheek as you turned and held Cregan’s gaze, his brows furrowing as he saw you come to your decision.
“Y/n, don’t-“ Cregan’s head was jerked back roughly, Ser Coles hand in his hair as he stuck a blade beneath his chin. The edge of the blade nicked the skin lightly, a small bead of blood travelling down his neck.
He would die.
He would die and it would be all your fault.
“Please, Aemond.” You begged, “Please do not do this. Let him go. Let him go and I swear to you I will obey your commands. Let him free and I am yours.”
The silver haired mans head tilted as he cooed you, “I am sorry, my love. But it is too late to beg for my mercy as I offered it to you before. What kind of man would I be if I excused such treason?”
You stepped forward swiftly, “A strong one. A merciful one. A man who can see the error of my way. That I am repentant.” You tried to cajole him, “I promise you I will be good. I will perform my duty and do what is expected of me.”
“You are sweet when you beg, but it is too late.”
“Uncle, please! I will do anything! Anything you ask of me. I swear to the Seven.”
Aemond smiled at you, “I know you will. And that is why you will do this.” Aemond swallowed, eye roaming down your wedding gown hungrily, defiantly.
Angrily.
“Strip.”
“Aemond-“
“-Strip, or he dies.”
Tears rolled down your cheek, your stomach rolling in disgust and fear.
“Please do not make me do this.” You sobbed, arms limp by your side as you looked down at the flagstones, feeling defeated.
Your husband tutted you, long slender finger brushing the tears that fell from your eyes away, “Do not waste your tears on him, my love. I can be gentle, and soon you will come to love my touch. This, I promise you.”
Pain bloomed in your jaw as you ground your teeth together, wary to not trigger Criston’s excitable hand. Short breaths puffed from your nose as fury and sorrow rose within you like a tide, little by little building in a wave. In your periphery, Aemond stepped back, a pale hand presented in front of you, palm outstretched for you to take.
Slowly, you let your gaze meet his, heated glare ignoring his offering as you refused to move. One last act of defiance. And one Aemond did not take lightly. Pain bloomed in your shoulder as you were roughly yanked forwards, and thrown backwards against the bed. Cregan shouted from behind you, the chair creaking beneath him.
“I said, strip.” Aemond growled.
Your eyes flicked to Cregan, and then up towards Ser Cole who watched with conflicted eyes.
“Please,” You begged softly again, keeping your eyes on Ser Criston, “Not him too. Not Ser Cole.”
A shifting of armour moved from behind Aemond, and a small ‘Your Grace’ fell from the knights lips.
Aemond spun, momentarily ignoring you as he turned to the knight standing awkwardly beside Cregan Stark, “You may leave, Ser Cole.” Aemond sniffed, “I am certain our guest will behave accordingly.”
Ser Criston’s eyes flickered to yours and then to the Prince as you tried to plead to him with yours for help.
To help the daughter of the woman he was once sworn to.
But no help came.
The Dornish knight bowed his head and left without another word.
“Let her go-“
“-Ah.” Aemond turned slowly towards Cregan, slow steps coming forward until he stood towering over the northerner, “Speak again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”
“Kepus,” You stood from the bed, grasping Aemond’s elbow tightly, hoping, praying that if you asked once more that he could see reason, “Please, let him go. I am yours. I will always be yours.”
Aemond stared at you, his pupil dilated as he stared at you intently.
“Strip.”
You fought the sob that threaten to rise up your throat and slowly lifted your chin.
You would not show weakness.
You would be strong.
With shaking hands, you let your fingers find the strings at the back of your dress, and slowly but surely you pulled the laces, keeping your eyes on your husband who watched with intent.
The gown sagged against your frame, the soft material falling down your chest slowly as you held it for one last moment, hoping that it was all a test, that he would change his mind and stop this madness.
But he didn’t.
Breath held in your chest, you let the gown fall to the floor below you, leaving you in your thin shift before the two men. Cregan looked away, his eyes focusing on the stones of the wall in shame, his hands tucked into tight fists against the arm of the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.
A shiver ran down your back as the cool of the chambers stiffened your nipples into peaks, brushing against the white of your chemise. Aemond took a slow step towards you and then another, hand lifting to brush under your chin, an attempt to direct your gaze to him. You turned your head defiantly; looking to the wall where Cregan’s gaze laid.
“Y/n.” Aemond warned softly, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin as he turned your face towards him, “Look at me.”
Reluctantly you let yourself, and all you saw was the black of his pupil as he devoured you with his darkened gaze, “You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, “My wife.”
You swallowed thickly, his hand slowly skimming down your neck raising goosebumps along your skin as his fingers came to rest against the edge of your chemise. The tips of his nails scraped softly against your skin as it slipped beneath, and with an even slower movement, he tugged the chemise down off of your shoulders, the thin material floating down to the floor below leaving you completely exposed to the two men in his chambers.
“I will not harm you, though you would deserve it.” Aemond purred, his eye roaming your exposed body, your stomach and core clenching in anticipation, “I plan to make you beg for it.”
You opened your mouth to snap at him, but in the moment his long fingers came to brush under your breast, fingers teasing your nipple softly, your mouth clamped shut. You shyly glanced at Cregan, who’s eyes were scrunched tight. Aemond followed your line of sight, sighing.
“If you do not watch,” Aemond fully turned to Cregan, “I will take out your eyes.”
Even at the One-Eyed Princes threat, Cregan did not lift his gaze from the wall. The Lord of Winterfell willing to risk his sight so that you may keep your dignity.
“Fine.” Aemond grunted, pulling the blade from his belt, “Then I shall take hers.”
Fear shot through you as you stared at Aemond tearfully, watching in your periphery as Cregan’s head turned towards you and yelled.
“No!”
“Then,” Aemond sneered, “Watch.”
With eyes filled with shame, Cregan looked up at you. You didn’t know what to do, what could make it better. What could make any of this not what it was, and so you tried to offer him a reassuring nod. A small promise that it was okay to look when all you knew was how very much it wasn’t.
“Good.” The Prince hummed.
Aemond resumed his touch against you, hand coming to cup your breast fully as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. His touch sent sparks across your chest, shame washing over you in a wave.
Aemond ducked his head towards your face, beckoning you to kiss him. Would he be gentle as he was when you were married? Would it soften his actions? Or would it only make him worse?
Deciding that you didn’t want to push what little patience he had, your eyes slid shut, breath stuck deep in your chest as you felt the heat of his body come closer, the hand on your breast skating around your ribs to pull you closer to him.
When his lips pressed against yours it was light, gentle, almost cautious, your hands staying stiff by your sides. But that softness was short lived, and soon Aemond deepened the kiss, his teeth clashing against yours roughly.
You gasped softly as his other hand wound into your hair, tugging you closer as he nipped your bottom lip roughly. Your hands instinctually came up to his chest, gripping onto his jacket tightly to steady yourself. Anger poured into the kiss, and from behind you could feel the reluctant glare of Cregan.
Aemond pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. His lips were swollen, having turned a rosy pink as a blush settled across his cheeks. His chest heaved against yours, the stitching on his coat brushing roughly against your stiffened peaks.
“Have you ever bed a woman, Stark?” Aemond asked smugly, brushing the back of your neck as you turned you to face the Northerner again, your back to Aemond’s chest.
Even as exposed as you were, Cregan’s eyes did not shift to look at your body, keeping his simmering glare on Aemond.
Clicking his tongue, Aemond continued, “I’m sure you’ve fucked wildlings and mudmen alike, being a man of the North.” An arm wrapped around the front of your chest, breasts squeezed beneath the toned arm of your uncle behind you, “Tell me, are Winterfells brothels full of sheep like the Vale? Or maybe they’re full of pigs since you’re both fond of the mud.”
The chair beneath Cregan creaked, his jaw tensing in anger as Aemond taunted him. His pale eyes narrowed, lips tensed together in a sneer as his nostrils flared, breathing heavily whilst his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.
“No? Hm.” Aemond’s other hand slid across the skin of your back, travelling around to the front of your stomach slowly, brushing his fingertips along your hip bone as he continued, “You see, Stark, mudmen of the North have no place with the blood of Valyria. The Blood of the Dragon would never sully itself by laying with a Northerner. Nor would a Princess.” His hand continued to dip down, fingers brushing into the hair atop your mound.
Your back arched in instinct, trying to escape his hand, but it only pushed your backside into his clearly hardened member, “Targaryens don’t fuck like animals,” His voice dipped lower, “We bring pleasure to our lovers.”
Aemond’s hand continued down, parting your folds with a finger, seeking out the heat and slick that had gathered at your entrance. Once found, Aemond’s chest vibrated from behind with an appreciative hum, dragging a long slender finger from your entrance, back up to your pearl. You jerked in his hold as he pushed lightly against it, slowly and torturously swirling the digit against your bud, your arousal aiding his movements.
You watched Cregan curiously, the urge to hide yourself strong. His eyes never once left Aemond as he continued to bring you soft pleasure. The Stark’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he glared at the man behind you, who watched back with impatience.
“I won’t tell you again.” Aemond purred, fingers dipping down to your entrance as he suddenly shoved one long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp at the small sting, “Watch her, or I blind her.”
Cregan’s eyes shut as he took a shaky breath, Aemond’s finger crooking inside of you, pressing against your front wall roughly. A whine fell from your lips causing the icy blue eyes to catch yours finally. Cregan swallowed thickly as you stared at one another, your hands gripping the sleeve of Aemond’s arm across your chest, twisting the material between your fingers as you shifted your hips back, pressing against him as he sped up his fingers movement.
Cregan’s stare was hard, his eyes apologetic, watching you shift against your husband behind you as he began to fuck his finger inside of you, the sound of your slick filling the room. Your face flushed with embarrassment.
“She’s quite reactive,” Aemond purred, slipping his finger from within you to rub at your bud again, causing you to jerk in his hold, his arm tightening further around your chest, “Her body knows what it wants, even when she tries to fight it. Do you hear how she needs me?”
Aemond’s finger moved back to your entrance, but instead of one, he forced in a second, the ache from the night before settling within you again.
“Gods.” You whispered softly, pain and pleasure mixing into a confusing blend. Your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder as he sped up his hand, fucking his fingers inside of you roughly. All you could do was lean your weight back against him, his arm the only thing that held you upright as his arousal pressed into the small of your back.
A familiar warmth began to build within you quickly, a coil rapidly tightening within your gut as Aemond switched from fucking you with his hand, to rubbing slick circles against your pearl. You scrunched your eyes shut, mouth going slack as your breath hitched. You were so close, so close, to reaching your peak, but each time you would almost get there, Aemond would slow his hand down.
You whined in his arms, shifting as you just wished it would end, wishing he would let you peak. It was torture. And with each time he did it, the frustration and desperation built, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.
“What is the matter?” Aemond cooed into your ear, his fingers slowing to almost a halt, “Did you need something?”
You huffed a breath through your nose, eyes scrunching shut as you tried to thrust your hips into his hand, anything to alleviate the pressure that was strung to snap at any moment. You didn’t care anymore, you just needed it to end. Aemond’s fingers stopped, hovering over your pearl.
You didn’t even want to think of what you must have looked like, bare, hair likely a mess, and body aching for release.
All while Cregan Stark watched.
“If you want something,” Aemond’s lips came to the side of your ear, pressing a ghostly kiss to them, “You need only ask.”
You bit on your bottom lip, willing yourself to not give in, to not give him what he wanted, but all you could think about was reaching your peak. Logically, you told yourself it was for Cregan’s sake so that it could all end quickly, but in reality, it was so that the throbbing in your core would cease, and the sweet feeling of relief could wash over you like it had the night before.
“Come now, you’re not one to hold your tongue. Ask.”
You wet your lips timidly, keeping your eyes shut in shame, not wanting to see Cregan’s face as you begged for the man behind you to touch you again as he watched.
A sharp sting shot through your centre, your eyes springing open as you gasped, you gaze immediately meeting the cold icy glare of Cregan, who’s fists tightened around the arms of the chair.
“Speak.” Aemond commanded, voice sharper in your ear as he watched Cregan tensing to the chair he was tied to.
Your mouth felt dry, and you licked at your lips once more before you softly whispered, “Please.”
“Please what?”
Cregan’s gaze looked back to yours, his eyes softened.
“Please,” You begged softly, “Touch me.”
You heard Aemond hummed from behind you, his finger slowly pressing into your cunt as he gathered slick from your entrance to drag back up to your bud.
“Like this?” He purred, slowly making circles against you, the coil within tightening again.
All you could do was nod, but that was not the answer that Aemond demanded. His fingers left your pearl as he waited, and you huffed in frustration.
“Touch me. Please, Aemond.” You weakly begged, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment, not wanting to see Cregan’s face.
His touched resumed once more, but the arm wrapped around your chest shifted, his hand coming to grasp your chin as he lifted your head to look squarely at Cregan, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.
“All you needed to do was ask, sweet wife.” Aemond purred, the movement speeding up, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “I want you to wet my hand, and watch him whilst you do it. If you do not,” His voice dipped low, fingers pressing almost painfully against you, “I will know.”
You swallowed dryly and nodded your head in his grasp, feeling your peak begin to barrel towards you. Cregan watched your face, his own a soft pink and ice blue eyes half lidded.
“Does this feel good? Am I making you nice and wet?” Aemond cooed, hand plucking pleasure from you in ways you didn’t know was possible.
You nodded weakly, “Yes.”
“You can do better than that. Tell him what it feels like.”
Your eyes widened, embarrassment flaring inside of you.
“Tell him or I’ll stop.”
“It-“ You paused, swallowing the last of your pride, “It feels good.”
“What feels good?”
“When you touch me.”
“How so?”
You exhaled shakily, shifting in his arm as his fingers softened their movements, “It feels good when you touch my cunt.”
“Sȳz riña.” Good girl, Aemond praised you, causing arousal to spark inside, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Does it feel good when I fuck you with my hand?”
“Yes, uncle.” You whined weakly.
“Tell Cregan that it feels good when I fuck you with my hand.”
Blinking at the man tied in the chair, you grit your teeth, “It feels good when he fucks me with his hand.”
Cregans nostrils flared as he shifted in his seat, and your head fell back against Aemond once more, “I’m close.” You panted.
You were so close, so, so close to just tipping over the edge, the smell of Aemond behind you suffocating you as heat began to rise through your body. The gaze of the man before you wavered, his eyes momentarily dipping to where Aemond’s hand was rubbing swift and slick circles. That was all it took for you to feel yourself fall undone.
You writhed against Aemond as your peak washed over you, the Northerner watching on as Aemond’s fingers became wet with your release, his gaze darting up to watch your face, jaw slack as he breathed shallowly.
“Shh, shh, shh. Good girl.” Aemond praised you, his hand finally stopping as he smoothed up and down your sides.
A warm glow settled over your body and your eyes slid shut, head lolling to Aemond’s chest behind you as you breathed deeply, the pulsing of your cunt halting any and all thoughts that you had.
But as quick as the calm had come, the quicker it left, your world tilting as you were spun and pushed back onto the bed. Your eyes shot open as you watched Aemond step towards you, Cregan observing with slight concern before you were yanked back down the bed towards the Prince by your ankles, legs splayed open.
On instinct they tried to close, too exposed to the room, but your husband wouldn’t allow it, standing between them as he held them open with his hand, his lone eye commanding you to stay still from above.
Would it be painful like the night before? Would he bring you pleasure as well? Or would it be something entirely different now that you lay down on a bed, the way that your Septa’s had told you it would happen, and certainly not inside a dirty alley in Flea Bottom?
But what your Septa’s had not informed you of was that your husband, who seemed to be more concerned with punishing you than bringing you any reward, began to kneel before the bed, his back to his prisoner.
“I need to taste how sweet you are, and then I shall fuck you.”
With a broad swipe of his tongue, Aemond parted your folds from your entrance to your bud, collecting your release on it as he went. His eye closed as he hummed, coming to lap at your folds once more, pleasure sparking up through you.
You gasped softly, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. It was more intense than you had thought it could be, but perhaps you were over sensitive from the release you just had. You watched Aemond, his lilac eye opening to look up at you with a smirk.
He pulled away from your centre, lips wet with your slick, “You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”
Aemond stood, towering over you as he began to pull at his belt and breeches, wherein he began untying them, lace after lace ripped from its eyelet until they sagged. His shirt was pulled away, revealing the pale skin of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair that trailed down from navel to pubis.
The Prince’s length strained against his breeches, the base of it just showing, a purple vein standing out against his starkly pale skin. You hadn’t gotten to see it properly the night before, and the sight of it made your core clench around nothing.
Before he pulled himself from the confines of his pants, Aemond grabbed you once more and shifted you to lay sideways atop his bed, the plush green sheets soft beneath your skin. Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking at the soft canopy that lay atop before the screeching of a chair on stone caught your attention.
You snapped your head to the side, watching as Aemond effortlessly dragged Cregan by the chair closer to the bed, only an arms length away. He towered over the man from Winterfell who looked up at him with nothing but contempt.
“You’ll watch me fuck her,” Aemond began smugly, “And know that it could never be you. Know that it will never be you.” Cregan attempted to sit up higher in the seat, chest pulling at the ropes that held him back, “You’ll watch me bring peak after peak from her as she wets my cock and likes it, and you’ll remember that it was me doing it.”
“Aemond.” You tried to distract him, try to take the attention away from Cregan, who watched with burning eyes, “Please.”
The silver haired Prince turned his head towards you and smirked before looking back at Cregan, “You see? She already begs for more.” Aemond walked back towards you, only two short steps from the bed as his eye roamed your naked body, gaze settling into the crux of your thighs, “She only had me last night, and already she begs so nicely.”
With jerky movements, Aemond pulled his length from his breeches, the length and girth large and intimidating. The tip was a rosy pink, and long veins travelled up its length. A bead of arousal had begun to form on top, slowly leaking down the base as he knelt on the bed, pulling you down to meet his hips, and had you not already experienced it, you would have been filled with fear.
Aemond thrust into you quickly and sharply, pain filling you before a feeling of fullness, his tip pressing at the end of your walls. You hissed softly, hands having raised to grasp his arms, nails biting into his skin beneath his shirts.
Your husband leant down, lips brushing against your cheek as it moved to your ear, “Do you like when I spear you on my cock?” He purred, his breath tickling your neck.
With clenched teeth you nodded, willing your body to adjust to his size quickly.
“Use your words, you’re not a mute.”
“Yes.” You grit out, turning your head away from him as he loomed above you, arms on either side of your head as he lay between your parted thighs.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Aemond.”
“Close.
You swallowed, “Yes, Husband.”
“Good.” Aemond pulled out of you swiftly before he thrust back in, “Girl.”
You exhaled sharply, the angle so far different from the night before. He felt deeper, more intense, everywhere all at once.
It was overwhelming.
You scrunched your eyes shut as Aemond began to rut into you, your hands not once leaving his arms as you clutched onto him, shifting your hips to alleviate the way his tip pressed harshly against your cervix with each thrust.
His hips clapped against yours brutally, speeding up, the movement shifting you up the bed as you squeaked with each impact, a warmth beginning to pool in your gut once more. The hair at the base of his cock brushed against your pearl roughly as his pelvis slid against yours, the stimulation winding that all too familiar coil again.
A moan broke free from your lips as Aemond shook a hand free, hoisting up one of your legs atop his hip, shifting the angle entirely so that his cock brushed against the small spongey patch within you deliciously, pleasure sending sparks through your limbs. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you could see stars behind them, your bottom lip gnawed between teeth.
“Open your eyes.” Aemond breathed from above, his pace not once faltering.
Your head tipped to the side, away from where Cregan sat, eyes still scrunched shut as you whined beneath him.
“I said,” Aemond grunted, hand roughly coming to grasp your chin as he turned your head back towards Cregan, “Open.”His fingers squeezed painfully against your jaw, bruises likely to show in the morning, your eyes finally opening to find Cregan watching you already.
“Lord Stark knows how to follow orders. He’s not once taken his eyes off you.” Aemond purred, thrusting particularly sharply into you causing you to wince, “Do you think he wishes he were I?”
Your mouth felt dry again, and all you could do was watch as the blush on Cregan’s cheeks depend and his eyes momentarily flashed away form you before returning, remembering Aemond’s threat.
“I think he does, sweet wife. I think he wishes that he was in your tight, wet, cunt as I am now. Don’t you agree?”
Your breasts moved with each thrust, the sound of your slick sliding against his length loud as it was before as you huffed beneath your husband.
Aemond’s fingers tightened against your jaw, “I asked you a question.”
“Yes.”
Another squeeze.
“I do.” You breathed, your face suddenly feeling flushed.
The man on top of you pulled out suddenly, hands moving under your sides to flip you over onto your stomach.
“Do not-“ You began angrily.
“-Quiet.” Aemond snapped, grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto your knees, your hands fisting the sheets as you looked ahead, uncertainty filling your features before you felt the head of Aemond cock slide through your folds, and push straight back inside.
“Fuck you.” You hissed as he began to fuck into you, “Gods.” The angle made you feel even fuller than before, but shallower too, his length constantly batting against your walls as his hips clapped against your ass.
You struggled to stay upright as he continued, his grip on your hips painful as he pulled you back onto him, the air being punched from your lungs each time, making you gasp out small little high pitched huffs. A hand in your hair wrenched your head back and then to the side, directing your face to meet the Stark’s who’s eyes were not on your own, but instead upon your body.
The heat of his gaze caused you to clamp down on Aemond’s length, the Lord’s roaming eyes watching as the Princes cock buried itself over and over inside of you, before slowly roaming back up your body, catching sight of your breasts below you as they moved, and then finally to your face.
Seeing that he was caught, Cregan flushed, eyes casting down briefly before looking back up at you. He shifted against the chair, hands still tightly clenched against the arm, chest heaving, his thick muscled thighs clenching against the seat, and to-
Oh.
Cregan shifted again, knowing where your gaze had fallen, his hips trying to shift back against the wooden chair, but there was nothing to hide the hardening length within his dark leathered breeches, which pressed painfully to the front of his pants.
Your core clenched again, and from behind you heard Aemond grunt.
You should have been upset, you should have been horrified, but all it did was set the heat that was already simmering in your gut ablaze, your nipples stiffening to peaks. Instinctually you arched your back, hoping to better the view, which got another grunt of appreciation from your husband, who’s pace was yet to falter, his stamina owed to years of hard work in the training yard with Ser Criston Cole.
Cregan’s lips parted as he watched you, the pink of his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and that was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out loudly, keeping your eyes on Cregan as Aemond fucked you through your release, triggering his own. He came with a growl, his hips slowing to a halt as you felt his seed pulse inside of you.
You collapsed against the bed, eyes half lidded as you watched Cregan shift again against his chair as Aemond slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. Warmth dripped from your folds and down your thighs as you felt the soft press of kiss against your shoulder blades.
Your uncle manoeuvred you on the bed again, your body pliant in his hands as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for Cregan to see. The man’s pale eyes drifted down to between your thighs, watching hungrily as Aemond’s spend dripped out from within you.
“Tell me Cregan,” Aemond stood by the bed panting, tucking his length back into his breeches whilst he brushed a loose hair over your shoulder, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck my wife?”
The taunt earnt him a sneer.
“An honest question deserving of an honest answer. I thought Stark’s were known for the honesty and oaths?” Aemond pressed.
You breathed heavily as you watched Cregan’s gaze fell to you and only you in that moment as his answer was given.
“Yes.”
There was no denying the edge of arousal that roughened the edge of his answer.
“Hm.” A beat, “Would you like a taste?”
You brows furrowed as you looked up to your husband, who kept his eye on Cregan, his hand atop your shoulder brushing gently in thought.
A taste?
Did he mean to-
Your heart leapt into your throat, watching as Aemond took his blade from his side and moved towards the Stark man.
“Stop!” You yelled, watching as Cregan did not flinch when Aemond approached him.
“Worry not, I mean no harm. I am feeling generous.” Aemond purred, lifting the blade towards Cregan, “He watched dutifully as I put my seed inside of you.” His lilac eye dropped to Cregan’s hardened member, “And it seems that he has enjoyed it.” The Prince turned to face you, “I only wish to give him a parting gift. Something to remember… to agonise over for years to come.”
With a swift hand, Aemond sliced the ropes that bound Cregan's chest to the back of the chair, the Northerner staying still in his seat. The tall Targaryen bent down and cut the ropes on the mans legs loose, one by one.
“Now,” Aemond stood to his full height again, pointing his blade towards Cregan’s wrists, still tied to the chair, “Know that I have your men in a holding cell, and should you try anything, I shall have them all cut into seven pieces and strung about the gates.” Aemond paused, his gaze hardening, “And then I will stay true to my word.”
Cregan’s chest heaved with anger as he watched the prince, still not speaking a word.
“Do we understand each other?” Aemond questioned him, one silver brow lifted in challenge.
Cregan’s jaw clenched, a click audible to the chambers, “Yes.” He growled.
Aemond hummed in acknowledgement and released his hands, taking a step back as Cregan stood slowly, rubbing at his raw wrists as he looked at you on the bed. His head turned back towards your husband, uncertain of what he meant.
Impatiently Aemond thrust his arm towards you, blade still in hand, “Go to her. Taste how sweet she is, and know that you will never taste her again.”
Cregan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking to you for permission, for denial.
You didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so instead, you widened your legs in invitation, feeling desire begin to stir in you once more.
It was wrong.
But Gods did you need it.
“Clean her up.” Aemond commanded, and with slow and cautious steps, Cregan walked towards you.
The scent of Aemond was overpowered by that of Cregan’s. He smelt of cedar wood and fur, and the soft smell of musk beneath it all that just felt right for a Northerner.
It felt as if each stepped dragged on for days. You shifted against the bed nervously, casting your eyes to Aemond, who watched with a desire of his own.
Cregan dropped to his knees, his hands twitching by the side of your hips on the bed, cautious to even touch you, a stark difference to the way Aemond simply took. The dark haired man looked up at you breathlessly as you gave him a nod, shifting your hips towards him again, likings the way his eyes dropped down to your centre and then back up.
His large calloused hands grasped the soft meat of your hips, his eyes keeping on yours as he leant froward slowly, the heat of his breath fanning across your sensitive folds. Your mouth parted as you panted above him, watching as he wet his lips before finally pressing a chaste kiss to your core.
A soft moan escaped your mouth, head dropping back momentarily, giving him a strike of confidence before burying his tongue between your folds. You dropped back onto the bed, hands coming to grasp his hair as he licked and suckled at your folds, lapping at both your and Aemond’s release which only served to spark your desire further, that same familiar coil winding rapidly.
You tilted your head to watch him, his eyes still on you as you began to come undone on his tongue. Your name pulled you away from his stare, and you turned your head to face Aemond who watched hungrily from beside, his jaw tensed.
Already sensitive from such an intense night already, you writhed against Cregan’s mouth with a moan, his ministrations bringing you to your peak swiftly, your slick gushing into his mouth. You kept your eyes on Aemond this time, watching as he breathed deeply, his cock already beginning to swell in his breeches.
You panted and whined as the pleasure became too much, and only then did Cregan remove his face from between your thighs, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
The chambers became still as you all breathed deeply, warmth spreading through your limbs as you couldn’t decide who to look at for longest.
Your husband.
Or the Northerner.
All you could think about was what you had done.
What had just transpired.
Your husband had trapped a Lord of the North in his chambers and forced him to watch you be fucked by him, and not only that, commanded that he cleaned you after. But what was the most confusing part of all, was that all in the chambers seemed to have liked it.
“Cole.” Aemond’s voice broke the stillness of the room, the door to the chambers opening swiftly.
Cregan stepped in front of you to shield your body from Ser Cole at the same time Aemond did, his back turning to his knight as he grabbed the sheet of the bed to drape over your exposed body.
The knight entered, flagged by two guards.
Confusion flashed across Cregan’s face as he stiffened, body gearing itself up for a fight.
“Relax, Stark.” Aemond mused, not even bothering to look at the man as he observed the guards, eye landing on Ser Cole again, “Take Cregan and his men to the travel roads. Ensure they have food for travel and water for the ride. They are to leave Kings Landing immediately to return back to Winterfell.”
Ser Cole nodded, as did the guards who swiftly approached Cregan, grabbing each arm as they began to remove him from Aemond’s chambers. The dark haired man looked back at you in confusion as you clutched the sheet your chest, unsure of what to do.
“Stark.” Aemond called out before the dark haired mans foot could cross the threshold. The Northerner stilled, eyes suspicious, “Expect a raven.”
Without another word, the guards pulled Cregan out of the room, Criston shutting the door behind them. The silence in the chambers was nerve-racking, and you turned to look at your uncle, who was already making his way to fill two goblets of wine.
Your mouth opened, a myriad of questions ready to pour out your mouth, but as usual, Aemond seemed to be one step ahead.
“You’re my wife.” He began, the sound of wine filling goblets. He turned with them in hand, coming to stand beside the bed as he handed you one.
You kept one hand with the sheets against your breast, the other shakily grasping the goblet, fatigue weighing your body down. Aemond spun to sit in the very chair that Cregan had been tied to, the ropes still on the floor in a heap.
“Our marriage is one of a prospect of peace, not love.” His words stung you in a way you didn’t realise they could, “Though, I do hope to change that one day. I wish to make you happy,” He paused, taking a sip from his goblet as he thought carefully, “And it would be remiss of me to say that what just happened didn’t spark something within me.”
You frowned, “I do not understand.”
“You looked like a Queen having him kneel before you.”
A beat.
“My Queen."
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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | i.
Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.
Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
Birdsong fills your ears as you meticulously unearth the last few weeds in the soil. Careful to not damage the stems, you pull gently while barely disturbing the dirt. The last step is pruning. With ginger motions, you cut each crooked branch pointing in the wrong direction. Beads of sweat drip down from your forehead into the soil.
The heat from the sun is unforgiving today.
But you welcome the labor, even with the sweltering weather. Time flies when you spend it in the garden.
It’s a welcome distraction, the kind you’ve sorely craved as of late. Idleness does you no good. It often ends with you curled beneath your blankets, drowning in a puddle of your own tears.
Each day you wake up hoping none of it was real.
The harsh reality swiftly claims its right however.
It’s everywhere. All the painful little reminders.
The empty chair at the dinner table. All the spots he loved in the house, now desolate without him. His untouched room, lacking the messiness he usually favored.
And there’s all the times you turn, words tingling on your tongue, hoping he’ll be there to listen to you as always.
Then you remember.
Your brother can never listen to you again. And neither will you listen to him.
You’ll never hear his stupid laugh again or his crazy stories.
And your whole life you’ll turn, hoping to see him standing right there, beside you, but he will not be here.
Your grip on the shears loosen. They hit the vibrant green grass with a quiet thud.
You lift your eyes to admire your handiwork.
The garden looks nice; the flowers are thriving. The roses in particular.
They have bloomed wonderfully this year, having blushed to a gorgeous scarlet.
Your heart sinks.
If only Sejanus were here to see it. Your brother spent most of his life helping you tend to this garden. Whenever he wasn’t busy at the Academy or with the various tasks Strabo had for him, your brother was here, with you.
You both worked in silence, basking in the warmth of the sun and the pleasure of each other’s company.
The garden turns into a watercolor rainbow before you as your eyes well up with tears.
“We have company, sweetie.”
You swivel towards the familiar airy tone your mother often uses. She often emphasizes the importance of poise and decorum in every situation. Even in the current situation, your mother’s held her head high. Still, you don’t miss the subtle red rims around her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks.
Like you, she’s suffering. While you may not share blood with your family, having been adopted when you were three, your bond with your mother has always been as strong as if she gave birth to you.
Confusion has your brows collide into each other.
“Company? We weren’t expecting anyone.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, gripping your shoulders. Heartbreak flashes in her eyes, the same soulful ones as her departed son. “I’m hurting too, but you can’t hide forever.”
She cups your face and advises, “Go put on a nice dress, and wash up some. You have dirt on your face.” Disapproval pinches your mother’s features as she gauges your disheveled appearance. She sighs. "You know you don’t have to do that. This is what we have staff for."
Help. You suppose your mother refers to the Avoxes who tend to the yard sometimes. The sight of them fills you with rage and disgust.
Just one of the Capitol’s many crimes against its own people. Who would even clip someone’s tongue as punishment, then have them serve their tormentors?
It’s beyond vile and sadistic. But what else to expect from a place that openly sponsors child murder?
At times, you feel as if you’re living amongst beasts masquerading as human beings.
Still, you feign nonchalance. Some opinions cannot be voiced aloud, even to your parents. Especially to your parents.
"It calms me down," you explain, shedding your gloves and removing your wide-brimmed hat.
“Sweetie…”
She gives you yet another lecture on proper ladylike behavior. As usual, you only listen with half an ear, checking out about five minutes into her querulous spiel.
You’ve heard it at least a million times before. Still, you indulge her like the dutiful daughter you are.
She then reminds you to get dressed. You don’t have to be told twice.
You head to the back door connecting the garden to your room.
While you do as you’ve been instructed, inquiries crowd your mind. Your parents haven’t been too fond of visitors lately. Besides, what kind of company requires you to dress up?
As you head to your massive closet, you wonder who’d visit your family at such a time.
Your mother’s refrained from entertaining altogether and your father’s poured all his energy in his business, turning down most social calls.
You randomly pick a dress, a pale blue one with a sweetheart neckline, before making your way downstairs.
Faint chatter echoes from the sunroom near your father’s office. You follow the hushed voices.
Astonishment rushes through you when you realize who’s having tea with your father.
You haven’t seen him since reaping day.
“Coriolanus?” you gasp.
He stands to his full height at the sound of you calling his name. Your surprise multiplies.
He seems so…different, yet you can’t pinpoint what exactly about him elicits that impression within you. After all, he's still the same tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, dashing young man you knew before.
But something has changed. You can feel it.
Even the air around him moves in a different way, it seems.
He makes his way to you, surprising you further by grabbing your hand and brushing his lips over the back of it.
“You look lovely,” he mumbles, cobalt eyes finding yours.
Warmth rushes to your cheeks. You don’t remember Coriolanus ever being so…chivalrous.
“T-Thank you,” you stammer.
“I’ll let you two kids catch up,” your father states, nodding at the blond before taking his leave.
“How are you holding up?” the young man asks, escorting you to a nearby bench.
It occurs to you that he’s still holding your hand, his long slender fingers curled around yours. Cheeks aflame once again, you draw it back and tuck it in your lap.
Coriolanus’ brow twitches at your tiny gesture.
“I…Dad said you were the one who brought the box with his things. That was so thoughtful of you.”
A subtle smile spreads on his lips.
“It’s nothing.”
“No, it means a lot,” you insist, shaking your head. “Any part of him it’s…it’s important to keep it.”
You fidget as he studies you, his crystalline gaze unreadable.
“But you have the most important part with you all the time. In the end it’s all we have, right? Our memories.”
Your heart swells with warmth. He’s right, you surmise. After all, every memory of your brother is yours. Forever. They will never be taken away.
You’re a little taken aback though. Who knew Coriolanus Snow to be so sentimental?
“Thanks, Coryo.”
His mouth tenses at the nickname but his tight-lipped smile expands. You used to call him that when you were little, having witnessed Tigris do it. It stuck and he never corrected you.
“I missed you. I think the last time you came to our house you were like seven or eight, right?” A soft giggle leaves your lips. “Janus had to drag you there. He kept asking and you always said no.”
He shrugs.
“All the other kids were picking on him. I didn’t want to make it worse for him.”
Your voice softens. “But you never did. Pick on him I mean.” They may not have been the closest but you remembered how much it meant to Sejanus at the time, that at least one kid in his class wasn’t harassing him for being from a district. While some thought he was merely upholding the grace befitting his name and status, you believed otherwise. You’ve always been convinced that beneath the sturdy layer of indifference he drapes over himself, Coriolanus is kinder than he seems. He was kind to you after all.
He spoke to you many times, even playing with you when many other children wouldn’t. Over the years, you grew a bit apart but he’s always been sweet whenever you ran into each other.
“So, what have you been up to?” he asks, changing the subject.
You sigh. “Not much,” you admit. “Gardening, reading, going to class. The preparations for the wedding take up most of my time anyway.”
His jaw ticks as a slight crease appears on his forehead.
“A wedding? Are you helping someone plan their wedding?”
“No…It’s for my wedding actually.”
Your engagement ring glimmers, catching the sunlight as you show it to him.
Coriolanus’ frown deepens.
“You’re engaged? I didn’t realize.”
Enthusiastic, you nod. “Yeah, he’s amazing. We met at Uni. Dad doesn’t like him too much though.”
This seems to catch his interest, his head leaning sideways.
“Is that so?”
“His family’s from the districts…and Dad said his breeding will drag down to our name.”
Just saying it boils your blood. How hypocritical of your father when the Plinth house had its roots in District 2. Sometimes, it stuns you how far your father’s strayed from the plight of his own people, going as far as sponsoring and financing the barbaric practice the Hunger Games are.
Sejanus never stood for it, rightfully so.
It’s one of the many reasons you miss him. He never embraced the horrors of Panem, fighting against your father’s plans for him at every turn. In the end, it even got him killed.
“He just wants what’s best for you." He pauses, plucking your hand from your lap. His long fingers twine with yours. His tone dips, oozing concern. "I do too. You deserve the best. I hope you know that.”
A wave of emotions engulfs you. You don’t notice you’ve begun shedding tears until he reaches up to your face, using his thumbs to collect them.
You give a watery smile.
“Thank you. For everything. For the box. For coming.”
He traces your tear-stained cheek with his finger.
“I should have reached out more," he says, glistening blue eyes locking with yours.
Your hands cover his. You never expected in a million to hear such words leaving Coriolanus’ mouth. He’s always been so…aloof.
This is the kind of change you can only welcome. You often hoped Coriolanus would open himself more to others.
“It’s okay. We can catch up now. Make up for lost time," you chime.
His lips twist upward. "Right. We have all the time in the world."
Struck with the abrupt realization of your closeness, the way he cups your face being easy to misconstrue for an onlooker, you scoot backwards and clear your throat.
Flames tickle your cheeks.
You’d be lying if you said you never harbored a little crush on the handsome heir of House Snow growing up. He on the other end, never seemed to notice you, his attention always on girls like Clemmie or Arachne. It makes sense, you suppose. They are, after all, cut from the same cloth. Bonded by generations upon generations of hoarded wealth and an elusive code of rules and conduct you never fully grasped.
The mere way you hold a cup of tea gives you away.
But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re older now and about to get married. You can’t wander the wistful lands of childhood fantasies anymore.
So while keeping a careful distance, you offer solemnly, “I… Dad is attending this fundraiser tonight…to funnel the promotion funds for the next Hunger Games." Your brow furrows as disdain coats your tone. You can’t believe plans to repeat this ghastly tradition are being set in motion. "I didn’t want to go but he wants the family to present a strong front."
You pointedly omit to speak of your father’s blackmail and all he threatened to take from you if you didn’t show up, starting with the roof over your head.
See how well you fare as district trash, how long it takes you to crawl back home and beg for scraps.
You discard Strabo’s harsh warning to the deepest recesses of your mind. While you know he loves you, he also doesn’t tolerate any misstep from you. They took you in after all, saved you from a life of misery. Otherwise you’d have grown up an orphan. Instead, you get to live a lavish, easy existence in the lap of luxury, now the heir apparent to the Plinth fortune since Janus has passed.
You’re grateful, of course, for all they gave you. You just hate having to forsake your origins and partake passively in the slaughter of innocent children. Once you’re at the helm of the company, you’ll do everything in your power to stir up change. Every tidal wave begins with a small ripple. Perhaps one day all those tiny ripples will come together and form a tsunami, one that’ll wash away the sins of the Capitol and too many years of injustice.
"You should come. I could introduce you to my fiancé,” you offer.
Hopefully seeing both of them in one place will cement which one of them is your past and which one is your present. You don’t like the way a single touch from him flustered you so easily.
While you’re thrilled to resume your friendship with him, you and Coriolanus can never be more than that.
Besides the obvious matter of your impending nuptials, the two of you are so different. There has to be someone out there for him, some lucky girl that’ll make him so happy. And you bet he’ll make her happy too.
One thing's for sure however. That girl isn’t you.
Coriolanus sizes you up before giving a slow reply.
“I look forward to it,” he says.
#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#dark!coriolanus snow#tbosbas#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#dark!fic#tbosas fanfiction
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follow me | e. landry
content: filthy smut, oral (fem receiving), kinda obsessive and dark ethan
pairing: ethan landry x afab!reader
summary: after everyone fell asleep, you and ethan ventured off to have your own fun
note: i literally wrote one paragraph of this and then dropped it but my ethan obsession is back after months
it was chad’s idea to have a big sleepover after finals. everyone’s worries and stress draining away with some drinking, music, and movies. the night started out strong with everyone in pajamas playing drinking games and having awful dance battles. but as the third movie dragged on, the talking stopped with the movie plot slowly growing uninteresting. the absence of conversation hinted at the reason, everyone had fell asleep. bodies scattered across the living room with chad's thunderous snores filling it. but as you looked over ethan's eyes met yours, wide awake and fixed upon you.
“i guess we’re the only ones awake” you smiled softly, standing up off the loveseat you two were sharing.
you two weren’t close at all. only speaking to each other when the group hung out and shared glances in shared classes. but you couldn’t lie when you said you had a small crush on ethan. his tall frame towering over you whenever he asked for a favor. soft whiny voice that made your face get warm whenever you heard it. pretty brown eyes that were always focused on yours when you talked. the same ones that were now so innocently trained on you.
“uh…yeah”
he was distracted to say the least. your nipples straining against your white tank top and tiny pink shorts riding up your squishy thighs. you stretched spreading your arms wide causing the shirt to hike up your soft belly. ethan couldn’t help but shift in his seat at the sight, a boner growing in his loose sweatpants. imagining what it was like to bury his head between them. he tried to look away but frankly he didn’t want to. he loved how squishy and smooth your thighs looked in the dim room light.
“do you want to come to my room? i have the new spider-man.” you suggest. hands placed on your hip and thumb pointing to your bedroom in the shared apartment. ethan didn’t hesitate, nodding eagerly and stood up slightly stumbling over the bodies littered around the room, following closely behind you.
-
ethan’s focus was completely on the game eyebrow’s furrowed and tongue slipping out the corner of his mouth. you stared at him in awe practically squealing at how cute he looked. both of you practically cuddling on your bed watching the tv screen as he expertly clicked buttons on the controller. you were sitting on the bed beside him leg perched over his while you watched him play the game. everyone knew you were a touchy person so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to casually have limbs wrapped around your friends. plus even if it was a problem ethan didn’t say anything about it.
“can you help me?” he asked peering over at you, noticing you staring. his cheeks a blaring red.
“yes, of course!” he had a problem with one of the missions not understanding the combos. you placed your hand on top of his showing him exactly what the controls were. ethan couldn’t focus on a word you were saying as your tits were pressed tightly on his arm. his mind wondered to how cushiony and moldable they would be in his hands. imagining leaving pretty marks on them that you would have to cover up.
you smelled a lot like sweet vanilla and it was addicting. he was obsessed. but he didn’t want to seem like a weirdo and sniff you. even though that’s all he wanted to do at this very moment. the boner in his pants grew again even though it never fully went down. but he couldn’t escape this time. as grabbing a pillow or shifting around would bring too much unwanted attention.
“you got it?” you ask softly sending shivers down his spine. he couldn’t do anything but nod as he feared he would unintentionally moan.
his hair tickled your face as he nodded causing you to notice how close you really were. they looked so enticing to touch and before you could think you reached your hand out. but decided against it, not knowing if he’d be comfortable with it or not.
“you can…touch me” he answered eyes still on the tv.
you grinned in excitement as you reached up to touch his hair. once the fluffy locks hit your hand you were in awe. they were soft and surprisingly smelt like strawberries. you reached your hand deeper into his hair massaging his scalp. ethan leaned into your touch groaning softly at the contact.
“mmh does that feel good sweetheart?”
ethan moaned in response pausing and setting down the controller. he loved the feeling of your acrylics running through his hair and scratching his scalp. he always has had a crush on you. he was quite literally obsessed with you. in ways he refused to admit. but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t stolen a few of your panties when you weren’t home. or purposely sat beside you during hangouts so he could learn your password to see private photos.
he relished in the feeling for a moment but he felt as if he was going to burst through his boxers. he turned and peered down at you, doe eyes hooded with lust. you were already looking at him feeling the tension rising. afraid that this could go too far and he wouldn’t feel the same way you did. you pulled your hand back but before you could get too far he swiftly caught it with his. eyes flickering from your rosy lips to your sultry eyes.
“ethan-“
before you could finish he had your lips in a deep kiss throwing the controller to the other side of the bed. his lips were soft and worked eagerly against yours. he then pushed you flush under him quickly moving in between your legs pressing his hard on to your core. wanting the kiss to be deeper you slipped your tongue in his mouth. he didn’t catch on right away but soon his tongue worked skillfully against yours. you whined gently as one of his hands was placed behind your head pulling you closer and the other trailing up your shirt.
your hands moved from around his neck to the hem of his shirt pulling it up eagerly. he obliged tossing it not really caring about where it went. when he looked back down at you he almost groaned at the sight. your lips pouty and swollen from kissing him, nipples now fully hard and on display to him through the thin fabric. legs wrapped across his waist practically rutting against him.
“oh fuck me…” he groaned practically ripping your shirt from your body.
you giggled softly at his eagerness but that was quickly replaced by soft moans as ethan kneaded your breast between his hand. placing small open mouth kisses on your neck sucking and biting the skin. he wanted to leave an obvious mark on you knowing a few classmates had a crush on you. he soon kissed his way down to your soft mounds suckling on your nipples harshly. your hands flew to his hair tugging it causing ethan to shudder under your touch. soft whimpers sending vibrations through your spine.
he stopped for a bit sliding his hand into your shorts. eyes mischievous and lustful with his hair wild from you playing in it.
“can i taste you y/n” you nodded shyly. the brown haired boy causing fires to ignite from the bottom of your stomach and thighs slick with arousal.
“please”
with this ethan pulled your shorts down with ease leaving you completely naked as he still had pants on. his hands roamed across your sides to your thighs dragging them teasingly. it made you feel exposed, your head shifting away from his avoiding eye contact.
“you’re so pretty” he complimented getting situated between your legs. he held you close with his hands on your thighs pulling you eagerly towards his mouth salivating at the site. you shuffled uncomfortably at his staring getting slightly embarrassed. but that washed away as he licked a long stride up your slit. it was unexpected and caused you to let out a loud moan.
you quickly covered your mouth remembering everyone was still only a hallway away. ethan chuckled slightly followed by him attaching himself back to your core. sucking your sensitive bud harshly. whining as your back arched into his mouth.
“ethan i can’t be quiet, we should-“ he cut you off again by kitty licking your core. you bit your lip hard, eyes screwed shut and your hands flew to his hair. his eyes rolled to the back of his hand causing a soft moan to escape from him.
“let them hear you.” he ordered, eyes looking up at you through hooded eyelashes. you sat up a bit meeting his eyes. the way he looked so innocent yet filthy made the fire in your stomach grow.
you tried your best to keep your moans soft but the feeling of his finger entering your heat caused your moans to go up an octave. you unsuccessfully pleading for ethan to slow down his movements on your sensitive bud. but he didn’t, noticing your movements against his tongue. fingers gripping his curls harder than before. he was in love with the way you tasted not wanting to break away. the feeling of inside of you making his head go hazy imagining what it would feel like to be his shaft instead.
you couldn’t hold back anymore. using a pillow to stuff your face in as ethan thrusted into you with an ungodly pace. telling you how good you taste and sound. you whined and whimpered repeatedly as he refused to let you go. tongue working eagerly to make you come.
“e- i’m gonna mmh i can’t”
before you could say anything else your orgasm washed over you. thighs shaking around his head. eyes forced to the back of your head and loud moans muffled by the pillow.
ethan finally slowed down letting you ride your orgasm out on his tongue. he kissed your abused clit gently earning a soft whine from you before connecting his lips to yours. tongue moving inside your mouth so you could taste yourself. you could feel his hard on through his sweatpants as your hands scratched his back.
he began to slide them off but was interrupted by loud knocking on the door.
“can you guys shut up? it’s 3 am!” mindy yelled from behind the door.
pt.2?
#ethan landry#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x reader#ghostface#scream#dark!fic#dark!ethan landry#ethan landry ff#ethan landry fanfiction#ghostface ff#ethan kirsch#ethan kirsch x reader
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୨⎯ "Bad Liar" - R.C
❥ Masterlist
Warnings: NONCON smut, Dark!Rafe, Toxic relationship, abusive relationship, Domestic violence, mentions of drinking, rafes pretty bad as usual
Summary: You snuck out to hang with the pogue’s… bad idea. Idea is from a comment on this post.
A/n ✎: OMG thank you for 200 followers!! I started writing Rafe like 3 weeks ago but the overwhelming support has been so motivating <333 love you all sm! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed!!! Btw my request are open again, don’t be shy ;)
Wc: 2.1k
18+ MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!
You quietly entered your house, locking the door behind you. It was 2 am, and you had just driven home from the other side of the island because you had to sneak around to hang out with your friends. Your boyfriend Rafe didn't like your choice of friends, often calling them ‘dirty pogues’ and claiming that they were all ‘trying to turn you against him,’ and that pissed you off.
Just because Rafe had a problem with Pogues didn't mean you had to, and frankly, his reasoning for hating them so much was stupid; because of his issue with them, you were frequently isolated. Still, you wouldn't let Rafe stop you from having a social life outside of him, so you would sometimes sneak out late at night, go to the cut, visit your friends, and return home like nothing had happened.
You did feel guilty about going behind Rafe's back, but what could you do? You weren't going to cut all your friends off because Rafe told you to. It wasn't like you were cheating.
You made sure to cover all of your tracks. Knowing Rafe had your location, you left your phone at home every time you snuck out. You always left at night so you could text Rafe ‘goodnight,’ and he wouldn't suspect anything from you not responding, and you would always make it back in three hours at the most just to be careful. You knew if Rafe found out about you sneaking around, he would be furious; you had been disobeying his wishes for months and lying to his face.
As you crept up your stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible, you couldn't help but smile; even though you hated to admit it, you and Rafe never had fun. I mean, you two had ‘fun’ in his way, like going golfing, parties, ‘Rafe stuff,’ but you two would never do anything you wanted to do, and with The Pogues, it was the opposite; you got to get messy, get drunk on the beach even do girly things like braid Sarah's hair or have Kie paint your nails, things that you could never do with rafe. It was a relief to do something you enjoyed.
You opened the door to your bedroom, which was pitch black; you had turned all your lights out before you left; you felt around on the wall for the light switch, flipping it upwards. The lights momentarily blinded you, but you jumped when you saw the manlike figure on your bed. When your eyes finally focused, it was worse than what you expected.
Rafe was sitting on your bed, staring directly at you; his face was unreadable and emotionless, which was terrifying. Your boyfriend was usually expressive, the type to lash out when angry; you had never seen him this calm, and you certainly didn't expect him to be calm after catching you going behind his back.
You stood frozen in the doorway, unable to tear your gaze away from him or move. This didn't feel real.
“Where were you?” Rafe asked, breaking the silence; his voice was monotone, empty of emotion as he sat on your bed, just looking at you.
Your throat felt dry, and your tongue heavy with unsaid words. You struggled to find your voice and form a coherent response, and the utter shock and fear rendered you speechless.
“I don't want to repeat myself,” Rafe mumbled under his breath; he was allowing you to come clean and save yourself from whatever he had planned if he caught you in a lie.
“I was…” you blinked a couple of tears back, thinking of what to say. “I went to the gas station… to get some.” you looked up and then back at him, fidgeting with your hands. “snacks.” you lied, voice cracking from nerves.
Rafe smirked, slighting, breaking his calm facade. Did this amuse him?
“Right.” Rafe nodded, looking at his lap as if he was thinking about what you just said. “So you went to the gas station, right?” he asked, awaiting a response.
You nodded, but you couldn't stop the tears from glazing your eyes and your whole body from trembling.
“And you left your phone at home?” Rafe questioned you, head tilting slightly and his eyes narrowing.
You completely forgot that since Rafe was waiting for you in your room and most likely saw your phone on your nightstand. Your lies were falling apart before your eyes.
“I forgot-” You mumbled quietly, still standing in your doorway. You hoped you weren't loud enough to wake anyone in your house, but you were too scared to get closer to Rafe.
“Y/n,” Rafe muttered, pushing himself off the bed, now standing in front of it. “I'm done with the lies. Alright?” the blonde sighs, now talking with his hands. “I've been here for,” he looks down at his expensive watch, taking in the time. “2 hours,” Rafe admits, fist clenching to his side.
Your face fell when he said that, he had caught you; he had to know; there was no excuse or lie you could think of to justify why you were at the gas station for 2 hours in the middle of the night. Your heart started to beat faster, and your tears finally spilled over; you weren't just scared, you were terrified; you didn't want to admit to hanging out with the Pogues, but what else could you do? You had tried lying and failed, making the situation worse, and Rafe probably already expected the worst. I mean, you were sneaking out in the middle of the night. That would look like cheating to anyone.
“And I don't see any snacks either.” Rafe sighs as he combs his finger through his hair.
He was right; you didn't even think of that; you were a horrible liar.
“So I'm going to ask you one more time.” Rafe’s posture was stiff, and his hands were shaky, “where. Were. you.” his tone was sharp, and his breathing was speeding up as he waited for your response.
“I was at the chateau…ok?!” You blurted out loudly, quickly covering your mouth after realizing your door was still open. “John B’s place, it was me, Sarah.” his eyes rolled when you mentioned his sister, “Kiara, Pope, JJ.” You were now half whispering and hyperventilating simultaneously; your tears were prevalent as you told your boyfriend everything. There was no point in lying anymore, he had caught you, and he was pissed.
“We were just hanging out, and I'm sorry; I know I should have-” You were just saying anything that came to mind, trying to improve this situation, word vomit.
“Come here.” Your boyfriend mumbled, cutting you off; his voice was low and shaky.
You shook your head. ‘No,’ you didn't want to be anywhere near him right now; you had just admitted to lying to him multiple times and didn't want to face the consequences.
“Ok,” he shakes his head before running his hand through his hair again and saying something under his breath that you didn't quite catch.
Before you knew it, he was charging at you. You tried to run out the doorway, but as soon as you turned, one of his arms was wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his stiff chest, and with the other, he used his hand to cover your mouth in one swift motion before using his foot to shut your door.
“You were lying to me.” he hissed into your ear, pushing you against your wall, back facing him. “Calculating plans behind my back.” he used the hand that was around your waist to grab a chuck of your hair, forcing your head to snap to the side. “To hang out with dirty Pogues.” he was now gripping your hair so tight you felt it might come out of your head. “And probably sleep with them behind my back.” His voice didn't raise once as he automatically assumed the worst.
You couldn't deny his claims; his hand was over your mouth tight, your parents were right upstairs, and he knew that.
“How many times? Huh?” Rafe questioned you, pulling your hair back just enough to make eye contact, and when you looked into his eyes, they didn't look normal; they were dark. “How many times did you fuck those disgusting Pogues while you pretend to be asleep?” he was dead serious.
He slowly moved his hand from over your mouth, waiting for you to respond, but when you let out a loud cry instead, he quickly covered it again before slamming your head against the wall, which was also noisier than he expected.
In Rafe's mind, he couldn't accept the fact that you and another guy could just be friends, especially not you and a Pogue; in Rafe's mind, you 100% cheated on him, and there was no convincing him otherwise. He was disgusted; who knows where those pogues had been or who they had been in? They were filthy and grimy; who knows what you could have given him.
“You're disgusting.” Rafe whispers in your ear before flipping your body around to face him, stuck between him and the walls.
“I can't believe I trusted you.” His hand was now grabbing at your hair again, gripping the top of your scalp and using it as leverage to push you down on your knees in front of him.
You fought back, trying to stand straight, but Rafe quickly overpowered you. And before you knew it, you were kneeling before him like he wanted.
“I'm going to let go of you, and if you make any noise…” he paused momentarily, looking deeply into your eyes. “I'll kick your fucking teeth in.” he threatened, voice still shaking. “Understand?”
You nodded to the best of your ability with his tight grip on your hair and face.
When he let go, you tried your best to stay quiet, letting out little cries and whimpers, but not enough for him to fulfill his threat. The tears hadn't stopped since he'd caught you, and you were so fucking exhausted from all the fun you had earlier and now the pain, accusations, and tears. But when you looked up to see Rafe unbuttoning his pants, you couldn't keep quiet.
“No-” You protested quietly, as you started to hyperventilate, tears now fully clouding your vision. “Rafe-” You couldn't even catch your breath. You were panicking.
“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe demanded quietly, but his tone was still harsh as he pulled down his pants.
“I can't breathe-” You were cut off by Rafe pushing your head, causing it to slam against the wall; you immediately rubbed the back of your head to soothe the pain as you cried harder.
Rafe was getting more annoyed with you by the second, jaw ticking every time he looked at you. He grabbed your chin roughly, pulling your face closer to his crotch.
“I told you to shut the fuck up.” Rafe sneered as he used his other hand to pull his boxers down and begin stroking his cock right in front of your face.
You couldn't stop crying. You couldn't believe this was happening; just an hour ago, you were out with your friends, having fun, not even worried about your boyfriend. You had gotten away with sneaking out so many times already; how could you have known today would be any different?
“Open your mouth,” Rafe demanded as he held his cock right in front of your lips.
You tried to turn your head to the side, but Rafe wasn't having it. His grip on your chin got tighter and tighter until you tried to cry out in pain, but as soon as you opened your mouth, he got what he wanted.
His hand holding your chin was back on your hair as he guided your head up and down at a quick, harsh pace. Sounds of gags and rafes and low moans filled the room. It was music to his ears but traumatizing for you.
“Fuck y/n.” Rafe moaned out, “I'm gonna miss this.”
You were a little confused, but if you were being honest, you were barely listening to Rafe anyway, too emotionally broken to pay attention to whatever he was saying.
“Can't be with a bitch who would fuck a pogue,” Rafe grunted out.
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
Enjoyed my fic? Leave feedback! Comment/reblog!
Wanna see more? Check out my fic Sweet little lies.
Also tagging @necroflame (bc I lied about the post time to many times 😭) and @fabienne6656 for the idea!!! Thx bye..
#dark!rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#dark rafe cameron#obx fanfiction#outer banks fanfiction#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#dark rafe x reader#obx imagine#dark!fic#dark!rafe x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe obx#rafe fanfiction#rafe outer banks#obx fic#rafe imagine
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Can I request a part 3 to "unrequited"?
A/N I honestly was not planning another part to this story. I'm just gonna... leave this here. (Pls don't hate me guys. This is so genuinely the only path I could think of for this story that I liked.)
Unrequited pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Warnings: Um. Alastor is dark/yandere in this part. Uh. Unhealthy relationship. Yeah.
Word Count: 2,094
Previous Parts:
Unrequited (Alastor x Reader)
Unrequited Pt. 2
Master Lists:
Master Lists
Hazbin Hotel Master List
Alastor had cornered her in the hall. The years, the games, the challenges, none of it was fun anymore. It all came to an end tonight. There was no other option, not when she could die tomorrow. The angels were coming, and they were coming for the hotel.
"I don't want you here tomorrow."
"What!?" Y/n exclaimed in utter shock.
She hadn't known what to expect when Alastor had stopped her as she made her way downstairs to the bar. Everyone was supposed to be having a drink together, celebrating their afterlives that there was a chance they might loose. She didn't know what to expect but, she certainly hadn't expected this.
Alastor had been acting weird lately. He was always weird but ever since the day with Husk in the hallway, he'd been weird even by those standards. He was always finding something for Y/n to do that put her near him, always watching. It was irritating. They had been fighting a lot and Alastor still had yet to apologize to Husk.
"I don't want you at the hotel tomorrow. You are not coming near this fight."
"What the fuck, Alastor?" Y/n nearly stamped her foot on the floor, she crossed her arms and glared at the demon, "I... these are my friends. This is my home. I will do what I can to protect it."
"No, you wont. You wont be here." he paused, "I will use our little deal to make sure of that, if need be."
Y/n scoffed. Her anger was a fiery, radiant thing. Alastor found himself thinking she had always reminded him quite a bit of a lioness when she got like this. The thought had been an accident, he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when these were the stakes. Alastor pushed it away.
"You fucking... literally why? Like, what? I... sorry, just taking me a bit to process this: the demon who tricked me into selling my soul to them is now going to use that contract to take me, a valuable asset, out of a war which we cannot afford to loose?"
"Yes." Alastor nodded.
"Because?" Y/n prompted in irritation after a moment.
Alastor sighed.
"Y/n, think about what could happen if you are here."
"The same thing that could happen to any one here!" Y/n threw her arms up in exasperation, gesticulating her frustration as she spoke, "The same thing you're forcing on Husk and Nifty, have you had this chat with either of them?"
Alastor didn't respond. It was all the answer she needed.
"Yeah, I didn't fucking think so!" she scoffed, "So it's okay for everyone to risk their lives -- it's okay for you to risk your life even, but not me? Its okay for you to force my friends to risk their lives, but you're going to force me to stay out of it? Listen to yourself, you sound ridiculous."
"We don't need your help. You're slow, you will only hold us back."
The comment he had hope would dampen Y/n's spirit, bend her will into submission, only added to her fire.
"I'm... that's bullshit and we both know it. I might be small, but so is Nifty. Everyone has skills they can offer. I know how to fight, how to survive, and we will have angelic weapons for Christ's sake. Like, I really don't understand what the issue your having is here."
"Y/n, just... no." Alastor shook his head, a hand to his temples, "No. You will not be here tomorrow. I forbid it. I'm sending you to stay with Rosie."
"What am I, your kid?" Y/n sneered.
Alastor looked over at her, his hand falling from his forehead.
"Just please, Y/n." he took a step forward, pulling her hands into his. Alastor took a deep breath. "For me."
Y/n's eyes went wide. Alastor could see the conflict, the swirling emotions. Anger turned to grief, mixed with gratitude, and became anger again. A never ending cycle.
His heart pounded against his chest, it fought him valiantly for release. It had been so long. So long since she'd looked at him with anything other than disgust, so long since she had let him touch her like this.
Y/n settled on confusion as her dominant emotion and pulled her hands from his grasp. Alastor mourned the contact, his hands still held up in the air where hers had met them as Y/n took a step away.
"Why."
It wasn't a question. Y/n commanded information and at the end of the day, he may own her soul but she owned his heart. Alastor felt like in some way, she always had. He couldn't bear the thought of loosing her but, he didn't know if he could handle the rejection either. There was no way, no chance, she would believe him if he told her too much of the truth but, lying wouldn't work either. It would have to be a careful balance, a calculated withholding of information. Too much was riding on tomorrow, on tonight, on this very moment.
"Because I don't want you to die."
Y/n's brow furrowed even further, their eyes growing wider still as she stumbled another step back. Her back was nearly against the wall now, there wasn't anywhere else she could go.
Her eyes flitted around the space fervently. Her lips formed words that never left her mouth. Alastor watched, stress eating him alive. At last, Y/n did something. She brought her hands to her head and sunk to the floor, her knees pulled into her chest.
"What are you doing to me." she muttered softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear.
For what felt like the thousandth time, Alastor felt a little piece of his heart fracture off. He didn't know how much more he could take of this before there was nothing left to break, nothing left to loose. She looked up at him, her hands still holding either side of her head and her eyes wet with tears.
"Why do you care?"
Alastor's breath caught in his throat. There was an insistence in her voice, a pleading. He stood in indecision for a moment, frozen by want, by need, by fear. His body took over as he took a step towards Y/n. Alastor kneeled down in front of her.
With great care, with a familiarity and gentleness Y/n hadn't felt from him in years, Alastor untangled her fingers from her hair. He held her hands in his once again and this time, he wasn't going to let go.
"Because I care about you."
Shock at his own bravery emanated from his chest. Alastor held his breath.
"You..." Y/n's eyes hardened, "I wish you'd stop messing with my head like this. Its not funny."
"Y/n, I'm not messing. I am not playing a game, I'm not..." Alastor sighed, letting go of one of Y/n's hands and running his hand through his hair as he looked to the side.
Taking a deep breath, he turned back to face her, grabbing her free hand once again.
"I don't know what I can do to prove it to you, that I'm not. But I will keep you safe. No matter what, you will not be here tomorrow."
"Please, Alastor."
His heart stopped. He couldn't recall the last time she'd asked him for anything that wasn't to leave her, Husk, and Nifty, alone. He couldn't recall the last time she'd seemed to fragile in his arms.
"Please, they're... they're my family. I can't..." a single tear rolled down Y/n's cheek, "I can't just leave them."
"I..."
There was a moment, a split second where he almost agreed. Alastor's eyes narrowed. He dropped Y/n's hands and got back to his feet. She adjusted her position in response, nearly kneeling before him.
"Please, Alastor. Let me help them. Let me do what I can to protect my family. Please. I'll do anything you want... I'll..."
It almost worked. Alastor felt his purpose waver again. Then the fear came back. He had already lost so much. His mother, his humanity, his own soul and free will. Alastor refused to add Y/n to the list of things that were so far out of his reach. He just couldn't. He didn't care if she hated him for the rest of eternity, as long as it meant she was safe at his side.
"No." he shook his head, his heart hardening, "You forget, you already have to do whatever I want. You forget, I own you."
Y/n's scream of anger as the shadows took her was muffled as she was sucked into their portal. Alastor stood, watching the spot she had been in for a few moments and then, he doubled over in pain. It shot through him in spikes, in daggers. It was the first time he had told her that. Not once before had Alastor ever said those three words to Y/n, not even when they had first made their deal. I own you.
The guilt, the regret, all of it underpinned by the overwhelming love. It had been trapped for so long, so sheltered and pushed back in the recesses of his mind that it had twisted. The love had become obsessive, dangerous, hungry.
With a breath, Alastor stood straight once again. Pushing his composure back to the surface, he smoothed his hair and went down to the bar to inform everyone of his decision. He may have forced Y/n to do something she didn't want to, fracturing things further than he'd believed possible, but he wasn't going to blame her for it. Alastor was used to being the villain and hopefully, in this case, he wouldn't have to be. Hopefully, they would understand.
Y/n gasped for breath as she was let out of the shadow portal. Panting on all fours, slowly she brought herself back together. Y/n had met Rosie before, once or twice. She knew she was a kind soul at heart, a reasonable person, and she knew that Rosie's cannibals were the main force of their army tomorrow. All she had to do was convince the overlord to let her join them, and it would be okay.
Taking a deep breath to restore her confidence, Y/n looked up. Her heart dropped.
"No."
She got to her feet, looking carefully around the decrepit old radio tower.
"No. Nonono."
Her breaths becoming panicked, she ran to the door. It was locked. Taking a step back, she kicked it harshly. The firm wood didn't budge.
Driven by adrenaline alone, Y/n ran to the windows and began to hit them with all her might. None of them so much as trembled.
"No!"
She looked wildly around the space and, spotting Alastor's chair, picked it up. Y/n hurled it at the window. There was a crash and for a split second, there was hope. That was until she realized it was the chair that had broken, not the window.
"No! No!"
Turning back to the door, she hurled her body repeatedly against it. Each time, she got the biggest running start she could. Each time, there was no change at all, nothing happened. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, she was long past panicked now.
"NO!"
After about twenty minutes, Y/n was out of breath and exhausted. Her whole body hurt and her face was sticky with tears. She sat at the door, her back pressed against it and her knees pulled into her chest. Burying her face in her legs, she sobbed.
Everyone was at the hotel, except for her. Everyone was preparing to fight for and protect what they loved, except for her. What would they think? What would they say? Much more importantly, would they make it out?
A sudden fear gripped her, a fist around her heart. Would she ever see any of them again? Y/n's sobs redoubled.
"Fucking..."
She sniffed, her panic and grief quickly fixing itself back in the shape of the familiar anger. She could see him in her minds eye, that moment his eyes had softened, that moment she thought that maybe he had been telling the truth all along, that they really had been friends, that he really did care.
"I hate you Alastor!" she screamed to herself, alone in the dark, "I hate you and I will continue to hate you until the day I fucking die again!"
----
A/N I love an irredeemable villain and doomed, misshapen love. I'm sorry to anyone who wanted this to end up happy.
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