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yandere-sins · 5 months

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Today, I was thinking about Kar'niss the drider, who—mad and confused—stumbles over a nearly dead darling in the Shadowlands.

You're already as good as gone, life sapped out of you mercilessly by the shadows gnawing at you. They burn your skin and dig into your very soul while strangling you slowly, agonizingly to death, trying to take over your body and make you into one of the lifeless puppets wandering around unprotected. It's your own fault for getting into this mess, yet you prayed and wished for nothing more than to be released from the torture.

Perhaps that's why it's so surprising when instead of eternal, restless death, your body is enveloped in a gentle light, bright and freeing you of the shadows that quickly retreat. You gasp and wheeze as you jolt back to life, coughing and contorting until you finally get your own mind back.

It hurts to look, yet you cannot help but stare into the blinding light, trying to determine where it's coming from. Only now can you make out faint noises coming from it, the shadows having wrecked your hearing badly enough so that you didn't notice it before. Metal clanking and a voice. It almost makes you believe in a god again, as you mistake the light to be talking to you.

Imagine the shock, the ice-cold shiver that runs through you when your eyes finally adjust. When the real monster behind the voice comes into the light, mumbling and yelling nonsensical phrases about 'feeding the shadows' and 'her majesty's will'. Half of its body resembles a man, the other half is spider through and through. His skin seems more leathery and armored, and his fingertips are contorted into claws. What you thought were dark jewels adorning his face turn out to be eyes, and you choke on a scream as they blink, their focus suddenly shifts entirely on you.

"Who are you? What are you doing, feeding the shadows?! It's not right, it's not...! Ah, yes, your majesty! Your light guides us, protects us. We are eternally grateful!"

As if almost dying and being rescued by a drider isn't bad enough, madness seems to be dripping off of him the moment he notices you through his hazy mind. You can tell that there is no reasoning with your savior, no last bit of sanity to appeal to, your instincts tell you. He leans down, and you cower, trying to get away. But the moment you leave the lantern's glow, you feel the shadows reaching for you again. You have no idea what's going on as the drider makes another step forward, the light enveloping you again, but you start to listen to his rambles, the way he calls out to some queen, reverently so.

And your blood runs cold when, in his mumbles, you hear him call you a gift.

"My queen, are you giving them to me? Is this my reward? I will not complain about this most generous gift, majesty!"

Your arm is caught by him quicker than you can get away, though his grip only tightens when you struggle, his skin feeling wrong against yours. Appalling. But when you stop thrashing like a fly caught in a spiderweb, he gently pulls you to a stand, waiting for you to regain your strength before he starts walking, tugging you with him. The shadows want to reach for you, pull you back, and you fearfully step closer to the drider, making him chuckle.

There's nothing you can do, his grip on you firm and the shadows being the only alternative to walking with him. He keeps blubbering and laughing about his thoughts, conversing with someone you can't see but who he seems to revere. But at the same time, you feel at least one pair of eyes fixating on you in every moment of your journey, even if you don't know which one is looking. Everything about him is freaking you out, but when you reach a massive building with people walking around, you can't help but feel thankful to the drider for bringing you back to civilization.

That is, until someone tries to talk to you. He does not like that.

Letting go of your arm, he snatches you by your waist instead, your feet dangling above the ground while you feel the air being forced out of your lungs from the pressure he puts you against his chest with. It's all so unnatural, and you can't help but struggle in fear when, suddenly, his bellowing voice makes you freeze.

"NO! This is my gift! Our Queen has gifted them to me! They are not for you to take! You are not worthy!"

And just like that, after baring his fangs and driving away the people you thought were going to help you, his anger disappears almost immediately as he cradles you, cooing much softer words in your direction than to the others. "It's alright, sweet gift. They'll not take you from me. We'll be together, as has our Queen decided."

With that, you feel like your body is flying through the air, clutched against him, as his many legs are swiftly put into motion. When you force yourself to look over his shoulder, you are already far up in the air, watching the ground distance itself more and more. All you can do is cling onto him in fear of falling to your death, and he breathes you in deeply before you two reach the top, his lips contorted into a smile when you finally meet his eyes again.

"Mine, all mine. My sweet little gift."

NSFW-ish below

I'd like to think he has taken one of the free towers that are more or less empty and spun a pretty web for his darling inside. Kar'niss takes care of you, rarely letting you outside (only if you convinced him over the span of days that you'd so like to take a stroll with him) because he really doesn't want anyone else to see, touch, or talk to what is his, even when he needs to go and guide souls to the tower. You will probably go as insane as he is, listening to his rambling and trying to appease him when you accidentally say something to send him into a fit of rage.

There are so many ways to punish you, too. Simply leaving you in the darkness after your almost death reverts you into a crying, sobbing mess that Kar'niss will love to soothe you, dedicating himself to cuddling and cradling you in his arms and lolling around in the web with you while he tells you he and the grace of her majesty are always with you.

He's also just painful to be around, especially when he's so irrational, and you cannot move out of the way of his fangs, claws, and legs. Everything about him feels strange, giving you no comfort, but he can hurt you so easily it makes you paranoid. When you ask him to, or he's currently obsessing over you, his touch can be gentle, and Kar'niss has proven his soft caresses to you many times. But if a leg or his hands accidentally swipes you, you bleed. It's just how things are.

Also, suppose you displease him by speaking against his queen or setting him off by denying him the pleasure of being with you. In that case, he'll just stop caring for you, sitting outside the tower where he keeps you, and sulks. (The Absolute is probably telling him to go back, so he's also bickering a bit with her. Kind of an impressive achievement on your side.) He listens to you and waits until you start begging and pleading for him (or anyone) to come back and help you, to not leave you there to rot like this. Yet, Kar'niss makes you suffer for a while longer to punish you while ensuring no one comes near you.

But it does excite him when he goes back, and you cry and call to him and apologize for what you did, swearing you won't do it again. Excites him a lot. You do love him too, don't you? Of course you do... his queen would not have given you to him if that wasn't the case. You are meant for each other, after all. So he can forgive you this time.

Once he realizes you're in need of a parasite, he'll probably start connecting his disturbed mind with yours, giving you severe brain damage as you are flooded with his thoughts. But it'll finally give him the chance to show you exactly what he wants. Force you to believe in the Absolute like him by torturing you with his devotion and admiration until you break. Now, you'll finally understand your purpose as his mate, too. Accept him. Share his love for you and his majesty.

And since he has a new deity talking to him that isn't Lolth, who knows he cannot have children, Kar'niss might be convinced that he's supposed to make babies for the Absolute. He can't, technically (and maybe you can't either), but that doesn't stop him from talking about how he'll give his majesty new worshippers and how the two of you will be so worthy of her and have Absolute-babies. Kar'niss gets so excited at the idea of you being full and round from his offspring he almost drools, unable to wait any longer once the seed has been planted in his shattered mind.

So all you can do is ask him nicely to prepare you, to make sure he doesn't rip something or is gentle with those sharp claws and teeth no matter how eager he is. Just imagine how happy he'd be when you tell him that you could possibly be pregnant after all the orgasms he gave you—a lie, but you just really need him to stop. He'll be enraged if he finds out that you are not, but hey, he can always try again. And maybe someone will come to help him with his plan. Maybe Araj Oblodra could be convinced to offer a child or spider eggs to quench the Drider's baby frenzy, or the Absolute will give him a child like she gave him a darling.

Either way, until he dies, you're not getting out of this. And even then, someone would have to find you first and rescue you.

If they don't deem you too far gone already.

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rushtoprove · 4 months

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the deepest melancholy

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader rating: mature (18+) word count: 5.9k+ summary: you wished you were strong enough to fight against the life that had been planned for you, but instead you cower at the thought of marrying the dreaded kinslayer, and you were sure he wished to be marrying someone else too. but neither of you could escape this marriage. duty always prevails. chapter summary: the realm was left a mess after the war between the targaryen kin. aegon may have won but the city despises those who almost destroyed the realm. the greens have become the most feared family in the realm, and prince aemond the most frightening figure of them all. that is why the townsfolk weep as your carriage passes them. they pity the sweet girl who is to be sacrificed to the kinslayer and his family. warnings: smut. arranged marriage. uncomfortably smut. forced marriage. angst. it will get better. beauty and the beast au (?) authors note: I have a bad habit of disappearing to remain mysterious. I see my flaws. But truthfully... I never left.

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It had been six days since your arrival on this foreign shore, but you were still consumed with the sickness that comes with travelling upon the sea. Your stomach seemed to tighten with every bump or shift of the carriage, and every jolt had your dress being pulled tighter into your fists. The echoing voices and cries made it known that your arrival to the red keep had gained an audience, so you slowly pulled back the curtain of the carriage and peered out to see the villagers who you would soon preside over.

“They have experienced hell little one.” Your brother sighed pitifully as he leaned over your shoulder to view the commotion. The folk looked solemnly on the moving carriage, shaking their heads and bowing towards your hidden figure. Some wept pitifully for you leaving the bile in your stomach no choice but to race upwards, and when you made eye contact with an old nun crossing herself in a silent blessing, you hastily tugged the curtains back into place and push yourself into your seat.

“You would leave me here.” You chocked out in anguish. He simply laughed. All he ever did was laugh at you.

Your brother would not support you in your sorrows. He would not weep, nor would he pity you, because it was he who was forcing you into this torment. He was the one marrying you off to the second prince of the realm. He was the one orchestrating your misery. Your brother will simply dump you at the feet of the most hated family of the realm and walk away with more land and title.

“You can thank father for your predicament sister. It was that reckless old man who fought for the traitor Rhaenyra. It was he who lost our good will with the crown. It is I who is simply trying to win back our favour and our riches.”

“They will think me a traitor like they think our father was. He fought for her because he made an oath to support her claim. They will not differentiate who was under our banner on the battlefield. They will take out their anger on me. He will take out his anger on me.” The chills that tingled your spine when you thought of your future husband should be familiar by now, but it still frightens you.

“Father was blinded. Being obligated to risk all our fortune over a pathetic oath forced upon him by the late King Viserys. He worked beside Otto Hightower that whole time. He should know better than anyone the power that man held. He should have known the battle was won before Viserys was even dead.”

“Our father was a loyal subject to Queen Rhaenyra and he fought for her because he knew she would be an admirable ruler. She would have ruled as peacefully as her father. Now we are left with a drunken fool who has started a war with the stepstones once more and his brother who is using his new position as Commander of the City Watch to use cruelty and violence on the folk of Westeros for his on pleasure.” Your father’s death was still raw and the slight against his name lit a dangerous passion in you. It was horrifying listening to your brother talk about your poor dear father so carelessly, but he simply clicked his tongue in mock shame.

“Careful now or you may lose your tongue. Aegon is King, and your dear Lord Commander shall soon control you for the rest of your life. You shall have to worship the ground he walks upon if you wish to be a dutiful wife and not anger the King’s Mother. Although I do not think you are in too much danger of him touching you as I hear you are not his type dear. There are whispers he prefers to fuck witches and hags.” You shook with rage at his condescending tone.

“He burnt countless amounts off innocent farmers and villagers and left nothing but ashes wherever he went. You would give your sister to a man who murdered his own family… twice. He is Aemond the Kinslayer and you would…”

“You should be proud sister. I’ve matched you with a prince! A disfigured, cruel man who reduced half the realm to ashes, but a prince no less. Just ignore the bloodlust and violence and I’m sure it will not be so bad. All you need do is bare his heir and look pretty.” His childish snickers as he cut you off had you seeing red, but you understood you could do nothing but seethe silently. How could he be so proud to sell off his sister to the notorious brute that had burnt cities to the ground and slayed anyone who got in the way of his family as they usurped Rhaenyra’s throne. His bloodlust had even led to the murder of his own kin. How could such an animal be expected to make a suitable husband?

The sound of the city guards yelling for the gates to be opened, and the grinding and rattling that followed meant that you had finally arrived at the red keep, and that your life was over at the meek age of one and twenty. Your brother wasted no time jumping from the carriage the moment the door was swung open, but you stayed for just a second longer. Hovering the tips of your fingers over the stitching of your family's sigil that was engraved in the cushions around you, you let out an unsteady sigh. You thought of your father, of his kindness and his love. His bravery and his wit. He would have let you marry someone you were comfortable with; he would have wanted you to have a peaceful life. Your brother was to throw you into the dragon den.

“May I present my sister to your graces?! She’s a shy little thing forgive her!’ You brother boasted with a joyous laugh. His hand reached into the carriage and grabbed blindly for you, leaving you no choice but to straighten yourself, and swallow the melancholy that came with remembering your past. You did not take his hand, but instead stepped slowly from the carriage with a bowed head, allowing almost no vision of what was in front of you. You let yourself fall into a graceful curtsey and remained low. There was large audience lined around the courtyard of the Red Keep, leaving you nervously tremble.

“Your graces.” You whispered, slowly letting your eyes raise. There were many figures that had lined up to welcome you, but it was the four at the very front who demanded your attention. King Aegon sat in his wheelchair; half his face taken up by the burnt scarring the late Princess Rhaenys had left him upon her death, looking bored by the entire meeting. His wife, Princess Heleana stood beside him, but her gaze was towards the empty spot to the left of us, and her incoherent mumbling seemed to be ignored by everyone around her. Her mother, Alicent Hightower, had a hand on her daughter's elbow but you could not decide if it was to support her daughter or herself. She seemed overcome by exhaustion and the lines on her face seemed to age her more than she was. Her hair had begun greying and the unkept strands made you think she had run her hand through it vigorously.

“Welcome to our court. We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” The smile that the dowager queen forced gave you no source of comfort, but you took the welcome as permission to stand at your full posture, and you finally allowed yourself to gaze upon your future husband. You would be lying if you did not admit to letting your gaze be drawn straight to the ugly scarring that peaked out from beneath his leather eye patch. It seemed to match the tight leather attire that fitted his lean body. He was a true Targaryen prince, with his perfect white hair and bright purple eye, so you were not shocked by his beauty. After all, Targaryen's were closer to the Gods than men. His looming figure was so still you could mistake it for a statue but proving not to be only by the slightest bow of his head as he gazed at you. His blank expression gave you no hint of whether he was satisfied by you and the silence that followed his mother's greeting left much to be uncertain of.

“I am much appreciative to be welcomed so kindly.” You wish you had the prowess to stand tall, or the courage to say something spiteful about this dreaded situation you had found yourself in; but you were scared.

“Pretty little thing you are my dear future sister. So innocent and quiet. I don’t know if my dear brother shall know what to do with you.” The King mocked Aemond boldly leaving a few courtiers to snicker, and Aegon turned his gaze knowingly towards his younger brother, eager for a reaction, but Aemond Targaryen simply stared at you. Trying politely to avert your gaze, your eyes moved to stare at his feet, but something drew your attention back to him not one minute later. His gaze was still on you.

“My sister shall allow whatever Prince Aemond desires. She is the most dutiful thing. I’m sure she will make a devoted wife.” You tensed at your brother’s demeaning comments and felt a swell of rage as the young king whistled in delight.

“Perhaps I shall wed her than! Take two wives just as my namesake did. Or perhaps I shall get rid of… that.” All eyes but one was drawn to Queen Heleana, but she did not notice and instead continued whispering with a sad smile. You could not help your brows from furrowing in empathy for the broken princess. It was no secret to the realm what horrors the woman had been through. The anguish that would come with watching your oldest son slain before your very eyes. The disrespect her husband spewed made your skin crawl. Feeling choked up by the pity, you averted your gaze towards Aemond Targaryen.

His eye had not left you.

You both stood in silence for a beat before Aemond slowly took a step forward. The quiet chatter of the courtiers stopped instantly and suddenly the atmosphere was heightened with anticipation of what the prince was about to do. Your breath was caught and with each step he took forward, you heart hammered harder. The lurching your stomach felt in the carriage was nothing compared to this very moment. It was as if time stretched longer than you ever thought possible, leaving you to feel as if you had been stuck in that one spot for eternity, waiting for the strides of your future husband to reach you. His lean figure was straight, and his gaze remained intense, inspecting your reaction as he moved towards you. When he finally reached your frozen figure, he towered over you, looking down with an almost cruel amusement in his eye. He finally moved his gaze from your face to give you a once over, slowly letting it fall down your entire body, before crawling back up.

“Shall I show you around the keep my lady?” His hand slowly extended, and you felt yourself hypnotised, reaching for it without a thought.

“I would be thankful for the tour of your home my prince, but I would not want to keep you from your duties.” You breathed out. If you were of the right mind, you would curse yourself at how kindly you greeted him, but alas you were overwhelmed by how close he stood, and how godly he looked up closely. Without breaking eye contact, Prince Aemond raised your knuckles to his lips and lightly let them brush against your skin, leaving the feeling of fire to consume your body.

“It would be my pleasure,” His voice was low as he finished the sentence with your name, and you were hypnotized by the way it rolled of his lips. If he had any idea of the sudden intoxication that had overpowered you, he did not show any hint of it, and you were thankful he did not boast of it. You were already to humiliated to bare. You were never the type of foolish girl to be besotted with a man, let alone a monster like this, but Aemond Targaryen seemed to conquer your very being with his mere presence. You were smart enough to recognise this was going to cause nothing but trouble for you.

“I would not wish to burden you.” You whispered softly for only his ears but threaded your arm over his awaiting arm all the same. You fell in step with his powerful strides and did not spare your brother a second glance as you passed him by. The prince breezed through the crowd who had come to gawk at the poor young girl who was getting sacrificed to this vicious man, and you found yourself revelling in the way they quickly scurried to the side to let you pass. Your amusement was short lived due to a hand reaching out and clutching at your elbow, leaving you staggering away from your future husband and into the body of a nameless courtier.

“Bless you sweetheart. Bless your poor soul. Let the Gods protect you from him.” The crowd around you began feverously whispering to one another, shocked by the man’s audacity, but the room was quickly silenced as two knights hoisted the man back with a shout and dragged him so fast, he had no chance to gain any footing. His body was dragged away as he cried and kicked his feet like a little boy leaving you once again unable to breathe. It was as if you had iced water thrown over you. The spell was broken, and you suddenly remembered who you held onto so eagerly. You were overcome by the smell of smoke and rot, as if you had been transported to the fields that Aemond Targaryen had so happily burnt to ashes. You swear you could smell the burnt flesh of his ghosts in that very moment.

“Come now my lady. Let’s get you away from this noise.” Aemond stared at the man being heaved away, expressionless. It was as if he was used to the scene that unfolded and was almost bored by the antics of the courtiers. You tried not to let him see your trembling fingers as you laced your hand upon his elbow and looked down in shame.

“What shall happen to him?” You don’t know why you asked, because you know what happens to those who speak out against this Targaryen family. Aemond began his pace once more but this time you could tell he was surveying every movement around them, waiting for another attack.

“He will be executed. We do not allow disobedience in our court.” He said your name as he finished his sentence and gazed down at you.

You understood the warning.

+++

Your wedding was a solemn affair. You had imagined when the time came around, there would be laughter and dancing, flowers and wine thrown around. Colourful and delightful with a husband who would steal kisses at the wedding feast and spend the night spinning you in his arms. Your family surrounding you. Your father hiding his tears as he watched you give your hand to the man you loved.

It was nothing like that. The crowd was silent as you walked. Not one person in the room smiled. The crowd bowed their heads in respect or pity, you cared not to know, and you had no energy to try and feign delight at the altar. Your husband was no different. He stared ahead with a grimace, but continued preforming the duty that was marrying you. You tried not to look at him during the ceremony but failed only once. He looked disconcerted by the whole experience making your heart ache. You wondered if he wished he was marrying the witch your brother had so carelessly mentioned. Your cursed heart ached at the thought. Not from jealousy, but from the desire of wanting to marry someone who wanted you. You were being chained to this man forever, and he wished for you to be someone else. But you could not fault him in that. Gods knows you too wished to be marrying someone else.

The wedding feast felt more like the wake at a funeral. There was a band playing some music in the balcony above, but no one moved. You sat stiffly by your new husband as you both stared ahead, trying to ignore the soft murmurs of the crowded hall. His finger were clenched around his chair and he did not speak as numerous courtiers steeped forward to present you both with your wedding gifts. It was left up to you to utter your appreciation at the useless artifacts while they scurried away, fearful of angering the prince with their presence.

“Please smile Aemond. Or do something that is not sitting there and scowling.” You pretended to ignore it when your new mother-in-law hissed into her sons' ear, then tried not to cower when he moved his hand to rest on yours above the table. The whole crowd would have seen the way you both flinched at the contact.

“Smile sister. This is a joyous occasion.” Your brother muttered lowly beside your ear, sometime after Alicent had ordered the same thing. You felt Aemond’s hand clench around yours just slightly, and you knew that he had heard your brother. Slowly you inched closer to your husband and gave him a slight smile, but you were sure it came out as a grimace instead.

“How will the Kingsguard handle tonight without their leader?” Whether it was out of politeness or awkwardness, you do not know, but the conversation you tried to start was quickly shut down by the monotone voice of your husband. He did not react to your words and let his gaze remain on the crowd below.

“I will be joining the patrols once we are finished our duty tonight.” You slipped your hand from his and clenched your wedding dress tightly in discomfort. You felt his gaze turn to you leaving your skin burning under his gaze.

“I see.”

You turned away from him and did not look at him until an hour later when he stood from his seat. The music halted at once and the room was silenced. The guards around the room quickly stood tall as Aemond surveyed the audience.

“My wife and I have grown quite tired from the festivities. It is time we retire to our bedchamber. Please, continue enjoying the feast my mother has so careful crafted.” Your new ladies-in-waiting quickly moved to your side from all corners of the room while the wedding party moved to walk you both to your doom. You were allowed to step into the room without your husband so that your ladies could help you ready yourself. On the other side of the door, Aemond was doing the same. It seemed he was joining you in your quarters tonight, in your new bed. There would be no safe place for you to escape the man.

“Are you alright my lady?” One of your ladies whispered as she undid your tight corset. The silk ribbon was unravelled and with each breath you released the closer you were to crumbling to the floor. You had spent the last two weeks in a constant state of fear and melancholy, and it all seemed to be coming to ahead at the worst time possible.

“I am alright Alyssa. Just tired.” You ignored the look the three women around you gave one another and instead moved your gaze elsewhere and landed on the worst possible spot. You had left your bed a crumpled mess this morning, after a night of restlessly tossing and turning, but you could not tell that anymore. The sheets were perfectly straight and tightened in the corners, folded down with such precision it made you feel sick. Your mother had died in childbirth, and you had no sisters so your knowledge of what was about to happen was limited, but you knew to expect the pain and blood at the hands of your husband.

“I hope you are not truly tired Brother. Your night has only just begun.” King Aegon slurred voice was muffled by the door but still audible. If you were not already filled with dread then, you sure as hell were now.

“Aegon, please just leave your comments for one night.” Alicent’s tired voice sighed back. You could not help the tears that began falling as your ladies began the final touches, fluffing your hair and untying the sleep gown so that it would be easier to remove. Without so much a glance at those in the room, you clamoured into the bed and wept.

“My lady, you cannot let them see this. They will think you ungrateful. It would do Prince Aemond great dishonour.” The three girls rushed to their lady in crisis and were quick to brush your hair from your face and hold you in comfort. You hardly talked to these girls, as they were a gift from your new family, and you assumed them to be spies for your husband and his scheming mother. But in this moment, you could only think of the comfort of being held.

“I’m scared.” You whimpered as they tried to sooth you with their murmurs.

“It is a scary thing my lady, but do not fret. It is over quicker than you can imagine.” Caitlyn, a relative of the Tully’s assured you as she stroked your hair.

“Oh yes. Just turn your gaze to something else in the room and it will be finished before you even settle on an object to admire.” Margaret, a distant relative of the Stark’s agreed with the assurance. It did not help but you appreciated the before. You wished to be held longer, but a stiff knock to the door echoed around your room.

“Is the Lady prepared?” The girls were quick to pat away your tears, and with a quick curtsey they moved to open the door. You instead turned your face to the side and stared at the new moon that was almost in the centre of the window frame. You did not need to look to know who had knocked.

“Yes, my prince. She is awaiting you.” With a curtsey they rushed out the room, leaving a silence that was only disrupted by the slight crackle of the candles that lit your room. You had tried hard to replicate the warmth of your room back home, but it had never felt colder. Time seemed to once again slow, and it felt a lifetime before you heard the click of the door closing. It remained quiet, and you thought for a second that your husband had perhaps decided he could not bear this just as much as you. Perhaps he had stormed off to the city to lead his guards in slaughtering the criminals within the walls of this wretched place. Perhaps you could sleep peacefully tonight, safe from the beast for one more night. The candles going out one by one let you know that your dreams were crushed, and that you were not alone in the room. He was silent as he crossed the floor, putting out all sources of light until you were left in the darkness of the night. The darkened moon did nothing to help you see.

“Do you know what to expect?” His voice sliced through the silence, choking you. You squeezed your eyes closed and did a small nod.

“I know enough.” You whispered as the bed beside you dipped. He sat beside you for a moment, and even in the darkness you could feel his eye on you.

“I shall try not to hurt you, but it will be uncomfortable.” Your eyes remained tightly closed and your fingers began to tremble. You did not expect any truth in his words. This man was vicious, known for the way he revelled in pain and torture. Why would he treat the daughter of a traitor any different?

“I would be most grateful.” You choked out and quickly turned away as you felt more tears build up. Aemond’s breath caught and for a moment it felt as he if was grieved by your whimper, but with a soft grunt he still turned to you and mounted his body atop of yours. The close contact of his chest on your chest sucked the breath from your lungs and you reached for his arms to stop him from crushing you, but he never did. He seemingly balanced his weight perfectly atop of you and slowly allowed his hand to rest on your hip.

“Please breathe. I do not wish to watch you suffocate wife.” He whispered as his fingers moved delicately across your clothed stomach. The reminder had you sucking deep in through your nose and exhaling staggered though your lips. His hand continued to dance lightly over your clothed torso, and you could not help but squeak as his hand moved towards your breast. You had never even kissed a man, let alone have one like this. He could not choke back his soft chuckle at your innocence, as he firmly pushed his palm down.

“Oh.” You whimpered in confusion. He pushed his hips down against yours and let out an almost relieved sigh at the contact. He began a slow movement of his hips as one hand groped you and the other clung to your hip. Your body felt alight with fire, and you could do nothing more but clutch at your husbands' arms in confusion. His teeth moved to your ear and your body arched against his at the feeling of them grazing your neck. Your brain seemed to stop and the overwhelming feelings that were all happening at once was almost too much to bare.

“Breathe.” He ordered in a soft murmur as his lips pressed on the skin between your jaw and ear. You wanted to tell him the truth in that very moment. You were trying to breathe, but you are worried you have forgotten how.

“Sorry.” Was all you could muster. His hand moved from your breast to trailing back down your body and began bunching the bottom of your nightdress up. You could feel the lace of it brushing up your legs leaving bumps to litter your skin at the soft caress. Your body froze in fear at what was about to happen. Once the dress was secured above your waist, you gasped at Aemond’s hand moving to clutch at your thigh. You were shocked at the feeling of someone else’s skin gripping yours.

“Have you prepared yourself?” He breathed out as he pushed his hips forward. It seemed to brush something that left you once again arching into him, only this time you were much more desperate to keep that contact.

“My ladies prepared me.” You stuttered out in confusion. Had he not already asked that to your ladies? His amused sigh made you think you had misunderstood his question.

“I sure hope they haven’t prepared you the way I ask about.” He grunted. Getting up on to his knees, you found yourself shivering at the loss of his body heat. Your arms dropped from his arms leaving you lying breath him, trying hard to steady your panting breaths.

“I have been bathed and pampered to.” His soft hum filled the room as you explained your answer, then he began moving his hand towards the inside of your thighs.

“My Prince!” You cried out, pushing away his fingers as they moved towards his destination. Your cheeks reddened with a deep crimson that only you could be aware of in this dark room.

“Do you want this to hurt? I promised I would help, and this is the only way.” He peeled your hands away and continued as if he had not been interrupted. Your irregular breaths began heavily, and you wondered if the whole castle could hear the noise.

“Prince…” You gasped as you felt his finger run up your most sacred area. He let out an almost disappointed sigh, and you were overtaken by the shame. Was there something wrong? Your fears were cut short as you felt him begin dancing the tips of his fingers down, then once again back up.

“You are not ready yet. But I shall prepare you.” His voiced was that of duty, with no shift of tone or colour. You had no choice but to lie in utter confusion at what was happening. No one had warned you about this part of consummating a marriage. The feeling of his fingers felt foreign, but you found your muscles almost relaxing under the touch.

“Aemond…” You sighed out his name without a though of his titles or nobility and this small gesture seemed to be enough for your husband to begin applying more pressure.

“Relax under my touch. This will help.” His voice whispered into the darkness. When he moved his finger up to begin circling your bud you almost flew from the bed. He seemed to expect such a reaction from you as he had already pushed his free hand into your stomach to keep you unmoving. You whimpered out his name again as he began to pick up speed and you found yourself trying to push away from his touch, even though you weren’t sure you wanted it to end. It felt as if a soft tremor was building inside your stomach, and you soon found your body clenching out of its relaxed state.

“Please don’t.” You don’t know what you were saying this but the fear at the feeling building inside you had you beginning to panic beneath his touch.

“Shhh, trust me.” He whispered your name above you before slowly moving his fingers to push inside you. The foreign feeling was too much, and you quickly gripped onto the second prince and screwed your eyes shut. His thumb remained circling your bud as his finger began stroking your inner walls leaving you crying out in shock. Your body tensed with each stroke of his fingers, and you soon began whimpering incoherently. You felt that pressure suddenly overcome you and it was no longer a soft tremor, but an overwhelming sensation that only kept building. It began the panic in your mind, and you clung tighter onto Aemond.

“Please…” You chocked out in desperation, pushing your hips forward into his palm. He began quickening his pace and you could not help but throw your head back and moan.

“You’re doing so well, good girl.” You don’t know what happened at his words, but your body arched, and you cried out as the waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you crying out and clutching Aemond’s shoulders. The pressure suddenly broke and you felt your voice disappear and instead seemed to scream out silently. Your body trembled and clenched throughout this feeling and Aemond did not halt his movements once. It was only when your body seemed to jolt from his touch that he slowed his movements pulled his fingers from you, leaving a slick trail to follow his touch.

“I’m… my prince, forgive me.” You were horrified by the way your body reacted at his touch.

“You did everything I had hoped you would.” He murmured before moving to unlace his pants. Your mind was too busy spinning to register the gesture, so you just stared dumbly as his hand slid underneath them. You watched in silent curiosity as his hand seemingly began moving and Aemond’s eyes furrowed in frustration.

“Could you… touch my arms or something?” He grunted as his hand seemed to quicken its movements. Your mouth was gaping like a fish as you cautiously nodded. With the gentlest touch you began tracing his arm upwards, blushing like madwoman. His movements did not halt once as you nervously ran your fingers up to his shoulders. You thought of his hand gripping your thigh, and how pleasing the firm grip he used was, so you nervously tightened your grip. It seemed to work because Aemond began adjusting himself out of his trousers. He allowed himself to fall forward to his original position of lying atop your body making your body still in anticipation of what was to come.

“Just turn your gaze to something else in the room and it will be finished before you even settle on an object to admire.” Margaret’s words were a reminder for you, so you turned your gaze to the window and tried to count how many stars you could see. You managed to get to twelve before he pushed himself into you and stole your gaze back greedily.

“Agh Aemond.” You were choked by the feeling as Aemond’s irregular breaths consumed your hearing.

‘I know, just…” He did not finish as he sunk deeper, and you cried out at the sharp pain inside you. It was not unbearable, but there was a great discomfort. You found yourself burying your head into his shoulder as he slowly began a slow movement with his hips leaving you gulping out a groan of pain.

“Just turn your gaze to something else in the room and it will be finished before you even settle on an object to admire.” One star. Two stars. Three stars. Your bottom lip trembled as the pleasure of your night seemed to finish and instead you were left trying not to squirm away in pain. Aemond’s silver strands kept moving to block your vision, so you finally turned back. Your nosed grazed his and you saw his eye widen in the darkness before his entire body stilled. He groaned deeply as he pressed his hips further into you and you could feel him twitching against you.

“It is done.” He breathed out. His movement was quick as he pulled out and moved to sit on the side of the bed. You were shocked by his quick movements and watched in a frazzled state as he quickly began relacing his pants. Following his lead, you pulled your dress back down and moved to rest against the headboard of your grand bed.

“I must attend the city watch now. I shall visit your chambers again tomorrow night until we…” You could tell a distant though had cut him off, but you knew what he meant. Until a child was conceived you would have to suffer him in your bed most nights.

“Did I…. Did I do something wrong?” You pulled the sheets to your chin in confusion at how desperate the man was to leave your company. He stood up and began pulling on his jacket that he must have taken off when he entered your rooms.

“You did everything perfectly. It is done now.” He moved towards the door, leaving you alone and disorientated by him. He turned back to look at you and you wondered what you must have looked like to him. Blushing and breathless, your hair a mess and your chest heaving, you assumed you looked a fool to the prince.

“Good night ābrazȳrys.” He mumbled. Your breath caught at his Valyrian, and you felt your brows furrow as the door quickly opened then closed swiftly. He was gone but you could hear a small commotion on the other side of the door.

“Aemond…”

“It is done mother; I have done my duty. Now leave me in peace.”

#hotd imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon imagine #aemond imagine #aemond x reader

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valeskafics · 6 months

Text

"Life Imitates Art" - Pygmalion!Aemond Targaryen x Galatea!Reader

a/n: based on an ask sent in by my darling @chainsawsangel - thank you for thinking of me when you sent in your dark pinocchio idea and for being one of the first people to support my fics, rhiannon, ilysm 🤭💕

Summary: Aemond sculpts your likeness - an ancient Valyrian princess known for her kind heart and chastity who died before she could take a groom.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, aemond is weird and into purity culture tbh, innocence kink, loss of virginity, oral f receiving, fingering, p in v sex, soft dark aemond

Word Count: 4,000 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

He would never admit it, but Aemond has had an affinity for the arts ever since he was a child. He enjoyed painting as a young boy, and graduated to sculpture as he grew older. Quiet, unlike his brothers, he sought solitude in the room his mother had designated for his artistic pursuits, often spending hours there getting lost in his sculpting or painting. He retreated even more into his art after he lost his eye. He wished to create beauty if he could not be beautiful himself, something that grievously saddened his mother, for she wished him to realize that he was not ugly, that he was still her beautiful little boy.

Aemond became more and more skilled in the art of sculpture as he grew older. He proudly showed his work to his mother and sister, but kept it concealed from everyone else. One day, he decided to embark on his greatest project yet - a sculpture of you, one of his most admired historical figures, an ancient princess of Old Valyria.

He works on the sculpture tirelessly, turning the slab of marble into something beautiful. And when he is finished, he could not be prouder of his work. He steps back to admire the beautiful statue, a near perfect depiction of your beauty. He admires the work he did to make your soft curves look realistic, your hair, your eyes… It is as though the sculpture is real. The stories say you died before your time, the kind and beautiful princess, the paragon of purity. He has you posed as if you are covering your bare body, shying away from the observer’s gaze. Aemond is entranced by the vision of you, wishing he could reach out and touch you as a man touches a woman. He admires your beauty, your grace, thinking to himself you would be even more captivating in person.

Queen Alicent grows concerned when her beloved son has the sculpture of your likeness moved to his private chambers. He grows more and more enchanted by the statue, adorning it with fine silks, hoping to please you. It’s almost as though he reveres the statue, his breath quickening as he imagines you as a real woman of flesh and blood. Aemond cannot help himself and kisses the statue, his heart breaking as his lips meet cold marble. It is not real, but in his heart, it is. He is lost in a fantasy of loving you, his beautiful innocent princess. He deceives himself into believing that his kisses are returned, that you are not ivory and marble.

While women at court cower in fear when they see him or are too flirtatious, you stand there, smiling at him softly. His passion for you grows with each passing day and he wants to feel the sweetness of your own passion. Perhaps part of your magic is that he can never truly have you, that you can never be truly possessed and will forever remain just out of his reach, teasing him with your beauty and that gentle smile of yours that makes his heart skip a beat.

One day, in his sheer desperation for you, Aemond goes to the royal sept, praying to the Maiden for a bride like you. He wonders what it would be like to have a wife like you, beautiful with your sweet and pure spirit, though he despairs at the thought of you being made of stone, a statue only he can appreciate. He wishes you could breathe, that you could kiss him and lay beside him and those pretty lips would part and speak sweet words of love in his ear.

And the Maiden takes pity on the young man kneeling at her altar, answering his earnest prayer.

He comes to kiss your statue that night before going to sleep as he always does. Then, something strange happens. He does not have to pretend that your lips are warm - they are indeed warm when they press against his. Aemond, confused and fascinated, kisses the sculpture once more, caressing your breast with one of his hands, the ivory growing softer and warmer. With every touch and kiss, he feels it and knows it is real. And soon, standing before him is a real woman of flesh and blood.

It is you, the woman of his dreams.

You feel his kisses, lifting your gaze to meet that of your rapt lover timidly before you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, shying away, moving to cover your bare form. Your presence takes Aemond’s breath away, his perfect woman come to life. He takes you into his arms, kissing you deeply, the love he felt for the statue now is nothing compared to how he feels for you.

And when you finally speak, your voice is just as soft and tender as he imagined as you ask, “Do you have clothes I could wear, my lord?”

Aemond is amazed by your pure modesty, your beauty and virtue, as he replies quietly, “Of course, my princess.”

As he searches for a dress for you to wear, he watches from the corner of his eye as you grab a sheet and cover yourself. You are adorable, he thinks, already wishing to see your bare form once more. He has a servant bring a fine dress for you, gazing upon you with all the love he possesses. You take the dress and move behind his changing screen, much to his dismay, though you would not be the woman of his dreams if you were not so sweet and modest.

When you step back out, adorned in a beautiful dress of white Dornish silk, you take his breath away, your hair tumbling in loose waves down your back, your soft lips parted slightly as you tell him your name, as if he did not already know, as if he has not dreamed of you for months. Aemond immediately drops to one knee before you, taking your hand in his, pressing his lips to your soft skin.

“You are truly lovely, my princess.”

“Thank you, Aemond,” you say softly, “That is your name, is it not? I remember all those times you spoke to me.”

Aemond nods, rising to his feet, unsure of what to say as he gazes upon you with admiration. He has spent so long dreaming about you, fantasizing about you, imagining a world where you are real. And here you are, standing before him, the picture of innocence and beauty.

“You are truly a vision,” he murmurs, taking your hand and kissing it once more.

He watches as you give him a little smile before turning to look out the window, as though you are too flustered to meet his gaze, your shyness only adding to your allure. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingertips against your warm cheek, that blue eye of his watching you, rapt with love and longing.

“Please look at me,” he all but begs, wanting to see those doe eyes looking at him once more.

You turn back to him and gaze up at him through your long lashes, your gaze fixing Aemond in place, making it impossible to look away. He stares at you intently, drinking in every part of you. You, a reflection of all that is beautiful and innocent and good, the literal answer to his prayers. He feels himself being pulled deeper and deeper into your eyes, his heart pounding the longer he looks at you.

You tilt your head to the side, asking him curiously, “How will you explain my presence to your family?”

Aemond thinks for a moment, running a hand through his hair, before speaking, “I suppose I shall tell them that the Maiden herself has blessed me with a wife,” he looks at you and muses, “My family may know of you in legend, but they have not seen you in person. We will say you are a completely different woman and I will marry you.”

You nod, smiling up at him, “It would be a great honor to be your wife.”

Your words mean more to the young prince than you could ever know.

Aemond leads you to the throne room, introducing you as a visiting noble from Essos. While his grandsire expresses some trepidation at your sudden arrival, everyone else at court falls for your charms immediately, watching as you cling to Aemond’s side as if seeking his protection, a sweet and demure little thing. It fills Aemond with pride that you choose to depend on him, especially as he declares his intent to marry you. Before his grandsire can say anything, his mother gives her vehement approval, already finding you to be the sweetest young lady she has ever met, eyes filled with maternal adoration.

Your sweet and courteous nature charms all the nobles that greet you, Aemond’s siblings being no exception, and eventually, even his grandsire admits what a lovely girl you are, smiling at you kindly. You treat each person you meet with respect and humility, but it is obvious that Aemond is the clear focus of your attention. Your eyes constantly find him even as you speak to others, your smile shining most radiantly when aimed at him. Aemond is taken by surprise at the adoration and devotion you show him, never having experienced anything like this in his life, all of this making him love and desire you all the more.

He feels quite distraught when his mother states that the guest chambers are available for your use, having grown so used to having his beloved statue as his constant companion. But he realizes how truly blessed he is to have you here with him, blood coursing through your veins and breath in your lungs, and decides to steel himself until the wedding in a fortnight’s time.

He cannot wait to marry you at the sept, for you to be declared his and he yours for all the realm to see. To retire to your shared chambers, his hands once again upon your soft flesh, his lips on yours. He cannot wait to call you his wife.

Knowing you are only a stone’s throw away from him in your chambers is both a delight and a torment to him as he imagines your wedding night, all the things he has planned for you, to take you in his arms and claim your body as his, to feel your warm skin on his own, to kiss you with all the passion he has for you. But the fortnight in the lead up to your nuptials passes arduously slow, and because of all the planning you are barely able to spend any time with each other. And when he does see you, you just give him that shy smile before looking the other way, that smile which has him longing to drag you off to his chambers and claim you right then and there.

The one time his hand brushes against yours as the two of you pass each other, the way you quickly turn away, has him so desperate for you that he immediately rushes to his chambers and fucks his fist, imagining you beneath him, imagining the sweet sounds of pleasure you will make as he claims you.

The day of the wedding finally arrives and Aemond stands at the altar of the royal sept, his entire body stiff with anticipation. And when the doors open and he sees you, dressed in a beautiful gown of white and gold, a veil made of Myrish lace obscuring your face, eyes cast downward and that infuriatingly beautiful smile on your face as you walk toward him, Aemond feels his heart beat like a drum in his chest. Every step you take has him longing to just take you in his arms in plain view of the realm’s nobility, to kiss you and show every man present just who it is you belong to.

You take your place beside him at the altar, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, looking away quickly when you realize he is already staring at you. The septon gives his speech and all the rites of the ceremony are performed, your hands tied together then untied with a ribbon, Aemond cloaking you and bringing you under his protection. He feels a deep sense of pride and excitement as he does so, the union being blessed before he is told he may kiss you.

Your eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his lips pressing against yours. It takes everything in him to stop himself from allowing the kiss to go too far, from grabbing you by the hips and devouring your mouth with his own. There will be time for that tonight, he reasons, there will be plenty of time to worship your body the way he wishes.

The wedding feast feels like it drags on and on, Aemond wanting nothing more than to just leave, but he knows it will look improper if he does so. So, he sits and suffers through it, though he adores the happiness on your face at the sight of the celebration. When Aegon drunkenly suggests serving as a witness for the bedding ceremony, insisting Aemond would need his help, you are taken by surprise when Aemond stands, grabbing his brother by the throat, growling that no one will see his bride bare save for him. There is fire in his eye, his lip curled into a snarl as he threatens Aegon. He will never allow another man to look upon you in such a state. Your body is his to admire and his alone.

“The Maiden will bless our marriage this night and we will spend it alone in our chambers,” he declares sharply, challenging anyone to disagree.

You rest your head on his shoulder, a tender smile on your face as you reply, “Yes, my husband. That sounds perfect.”

He feels his breeches grow tighter at that. “My husband”. It sounds so perfect. He can imagine you begging him for mercy as he takes you, crying out “please, husband”. The thought causes him to grip his wine glass even tighter. His body aches for you, his eye filled with desire as the minutes tick by, closer and closer to the end of the feast. Closer and closer to when you will finally be his.

The time finally comes for the two of you to retire to your newly shared apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast. Aemond leads you there, insisting on wanting privacy with his new bride, something his mother acquiesces to, dismissing the retainers she had planned on sending with you.

When the two of you reach the door, Aemond pushes it open, bowing his head and gesturing for you to enter first. You do so, startling slightly as the door closes, turning to face Aemond, biting your lower lip, entirely unsure of what to do. Aemond gazes down at you with a primal desire, the moment he feels he has dreamed of forever having finally arrived. You watch as his fingers move to the lace of your dress’s bodice, deftly undoing them, one by one. You stare with fascination and Aemond wonders if you are thinking about what else his fingers can do to you, which he certainly intends on showing you.

Your dress falls to the ground, leaving you in only a thin shift. Aemond’s throat goes dry as he sees the bare skin of your arms and legs as well as part of your decollete, growing painfully hard at the sight. He moves to rid you of your shift, his hands trembling as he does, lifting it over your head, and letting out a sharp gasp at the sight of your naked flesh. Yes, he saw you bare before when you first came alive, but this is different. It is more intimate, more vulnerable. You cover yourself with your hands, much as you did the first time he saw you as a living breathing woman, but that does little do dissuade your husband’s lustful gaze, the ravenous hunger building inside him at the sight of you.

Aemond gently but firmly moves your hands to your side, admiring the curve of your hips, your round, full breasts, your thighs, everything. His eye feasts on you as he begins to undress as well, ridding himself of his tunic then his breeches and smallclothes, leaving him bare before you as well, save for one thing. Before he can pull you into his arms, you reach for his eyepatch.

“This too?”

Aemond hesitates but removes it, revealing his greatest insecurity to you, something he had hoped you would not ask to see. He hates it so much, this imperfect part of himself, but he knows he cannot lie to you about who he is. Your fingertips trace his scar, soft and gentle, as you murmur how beautiful his sapphire is. He watches you with bated breath, shivering at your touch.

“You admire it?” he asks, voice filled with surprise.

You, the most perfect woman in the world, admire the thing he despises about himself. He expected you to be disgusted, to shrink away in fear, but you continue gazing upon him with adoration.

“It is a part of you and every part of my sweet husband is to be admired. You look very handsome without your eyepatch and I hope you keep it off when we are alone.”

Aemond swallows thickly, allowing the leather article to fall to the floor, his entire body aflame with desire at your visage, at your words. You let out a quiet gasp as he crushes you to his chest, lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss, one where he seeks to consume you. His hands caress your curves, squeezing every bit of flesh he can. He pushes you backward onto the bed, laying on top of you, his entire body shivering with desire at the thought of tasting you as he kisses you again, even more fiercely than before.

His large, calloused palms caress your perfect skin, finding the apex between your thighs. He lets out a quiet groan, pushing one digit inside you, reveling in the sweet little whimper you let out, the way you shudder against him as he moves his finger in and out of you at a languid pace. Aemond keeps his gaze on your face, watching how it twists in pleasure with each movement, your lips parted, your chest heaving as he adds a second. You squeeze around him so tightly that he can barely move his fingers, a smirk coming to his lips as he urges you to relax and let him pleasure you. He moves faster and faster, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, that feeling building in your stomach, growing more and more tense until it is like an invisible cord snaps and you reach your release, mewling his name as you spill yourself against your husband’s fingers, out of breath and gazing at him, a thin sheen of sweat covering your face.

“How was that, my princess?” Aemond murmurs, pressing his lips to your neck, kissing your most sensitive spots and loving the way you shiver.

“Amazing,” you reply breathily, gasping as he moves to mouth at one of your breasts, “Oh, my…”

Aemond’s lips wrap around one of your nipples, suckling at it until it pebbles beneath his tongue, his teeth grazing against it, making you whine with delight, your hands flying to his hair. He moves to your neglected breast, palming at the one he was just laving attention on, giving it the same attention before pulling away with an obscene popping sound, never once looking away from you, loving how flustered you seem at his ministrations. He kisses down your stomach, his tongue teasing your navel, loving the little squeal of surprise you let out as he moves lower and lower before finally tasting what he’s always wanted, his tongue licking a stripe along your core.

“Oh my gods…”

He chuckles, the vibration against your sensitive flesh making you shiver as he nuzzles his nose against your pearl before fucking you eagerly with his tongue, moving it in and out of you. You stare at the ceiling, lips parted in surprise, unable to do anything except lay there and accept the pleasure he is giving you. You reach your peak and assume Aemond is finished with his ministrations, but you are surprised to learn that he is not. Aemond holds your thighs apart, watching with amusement as you try to squirm away, pulling you back and burying his face between your thighs once more, now focusing on mouthing at your sensitive pearl, listening as you mewl, feeling you writhe against him. Aemond cannot get enough of you, of tasting you, and thinks to himself that this is how he would like to die, in bed with you, his face buried between your thighs. He feels your body tense around him as he laps at your pearl, flattening his tongue against it, feeling you spill yourself against his tongue once more.

“You taste divine, my love,” he murmurs, moving his face back to hover over yours, kissing your lips once more, “Like the finest ambrosia.”

Your tongue moves against his and you bury your face in his shoulder when he sheathes his cock inside of you. You cling to him desperately as he joins your bodies, giving you a moment to adjust to the new sensation. Aemond loves how warm you are, how tight you squeeze him, the way you hold onto him as though he’s the most important thing in your universe. He whispers in your ear how perfectly you are taking him, how good you feel, how much he loves you.

“Such a perfect little wife for me, taking my cock so well,” he murmurs, “You will look so beautiful, your belly swollen with my babe. I will spill myself inside of you every night, my sweet wife, to make sure my seed takes. To make sure you are completely mine.”

“I am yours,” you breathe as he begins moving his hips, his cock dragging along your walls, lips finding yours once again as he kisses you passionately, hips snapping against yours at a near brutal pace.

Aemond cannot control himself any longer. He holds you in place as he ruts against you like some sort of feral, depraved beast, chasing his end, loving the way you squeeze around him so tight, the face you make when the tip of his cock hits that spot deep inside of you, how your face twists in pleasure, how you cry his name. His desire for you is raw and primal, his kisses savage yet full of love and devotion as his hands roam your flesh, his body trembling with sheer want, moving faster and faster until he feels you squeezing you around him impossibly tight, crying out his name in the throes of your pleasure. He spills himself deep inside you soon after, doing his best to catch his breath as he holds you tight, his fingers fingers pushing whatever of his spend has leaked out of you, wanting to make sure his seed takes, that it quickens in your womb and that in nine moons, you might welcome new life.

Aemond holds you tight in his arms, thinking to himself that the Maiden truly has blessed him with a sweet, modest, beautiful bride like you, the woman of his dreams. He knows he will love and cherish you for the rest of his life, protect you with every fiber of his being, and remain completely devoted to you.

Men like Aemond, however, often mistake possessiveness for protectiveness. He thinks to himself when he wakes how he can best “protect” you from his lascivious brother, thinking it may be best to keep you in the marriage bed as long as he can…

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hellishjoel · 6 months

Text

scream queen

6.6k / pairing: ghostface!joel miller x f!reader

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summary: A stalker outside your window at night forces you to beg for your life in more ways than one. You do what it takes because you're a survivor. And you kind of like the mask on. A/N: please heed these warnings, as they can be triggering for some individuals. No one is forcing you to read this, and if it sounds unappealing, please keep scrolling. This is far different from what I usually post, but I’m feeling spooky and have rewatched the entire Scream franchise in 72 hours. Indented chat means ghostface’s voice changer is on. Thank you to Emmie @hyzer34 for the FREAKING AMAZING ghostface!joel edits!

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), horror, dark ghostface!joel, dubious consent (dubcon via manipulation/guilt/survival), reader has a boyfriend (what a drag) so I guess cheating/infidelity, swearing, taunting/stalker behavior, masked anonymous individual, strip show to save a life, male masturbation, threat of violence/death, begging for life, manhandling, spanking, rough oral (face fucking)(m!receiving), pet names, praise kink, degradation kink, clit smacking (?), life-threatening knifeplay, unprotected sex (p in v), the mask stays on ladies, plot twist ending? very barely edited heads-up

You gasp shakily as his hand carefully caresses your tit, thumb featherlight over your nipple, before he cups and lightly squeezes your juicy flesh. You swallow down a lump and cower before him. You’re afraid for when he goes lower what he might find, how your slick is dampening your thighs, and your clit is pulsating for him. You need him. It’s sick, gross, disgusting, but you need him. “Please, Mr.,” you trail off, unsure of what to call him. “Ghostface.” He aids, and you quickly nod as your lips part. Your worst fear is coming true as his calloused hand and rough fingertips guide themselves further down the soft skin of your stomach and to your panties. “Please, Mr. Ghostface, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” You can’t help but feel tears welling in your eyes once more. The masked man sighs and slowly shakes his head in shame. “I don’t think it’s about what I want to do to you. But what you want me to do to you.”

It was a quiet fall evening. You sat on your boyfriend’s couch, ankles crossed along the extent of the cushions as you leafed through what was available on different streaming services. You wanted something spooky for Halloween but not something that would over-excite your imagination while alone. You’re wearing the same thing he left you in, red panties and an oversized black tee you had snagged from his closet.��

You figure your boyfriend should be home soon, so you start a bag of popcorn in the microwave. You sit up on the counter and kick your feet gently against the cabinets as you watch the time tick down, listening to each pop as it slowly rattles up its pace.

Your phone’s ring catches your attention back in the living room. You assume it’s your boyfriend as you hop off the counter and swipe it from the arm of the chair.

Unknown Caller

With a roll of your eyes, your tongue rutting out against your cheek, you deny the call. Probably a wrong number or an asshole troll since Halloween was nearing. You’re about to turn back to the kitchen, hearing the popcorn bag rattling with intensity when your phone goes off again.

Stopped in your tracks, you watch your phone buzz with uncertainty as the screen flashes with the Unknown Caller tag once more.

All of a sudden, the air is tight in your lungs, and your body is riddled with goosebumps. Now you were annoyed. You slid across the call button and pushed the phone to your ear.

“You have the wrong number. Stop fucking calling me.” You jam the blaring red end call button before huffing and returning to your popcorn.

The timer slowly counts down, but each pop from the bag makes you jump. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Your body jolts as you hear something pound against the windows, throwing yourself back against the counter with wide eyes.

“What the fuck!” You gasp as you rotate your head, searching from open window to open window where the banging was coming from. But there was nothing. No one. Your heart rate is slowly increasing, you can feel it jumping in your wrist and your neck.

Your feet quickly skid across the room, locking the house’s back door before running back towards the front entrance, flicking the lock in place. Even if it was nothing, at least you were safe.

Standing still in the entryway, you observed the home to be dead quiet. Your fears were still nesting on your shoulders, that you weren’t alone.

Your phone rings again, causing you to jump from the silence you had grown used to. With a distasteful grimace, you glance around as you walk towards your phone. You accept the call with hesitancy.

“Who is this?” You ask, already maneuvering around the house and shutting all the curtains and blinds in your wake. “Whoever the hell you are, just stop fucking calling me.” You try not to let the panic that’s sitting in your throat be exposed over the phone. Whoever has called you hasn’t spoken yet.

“Hello?” You ask, pausing in the kitchen as you finish your rounds around the first floor.

“Now that is how you answer a phone call.” The voice isn’t familiar, it’s almost… animatronic? It didn’t sound like a person, but the languidness of their voice was all too human. It was low, primal.

Now, you’ve seen these movies before, you weren’t an idiot, and you weren’t going to be one tonight.

“What are you going to ask me? What’s my favorite scary movie?” You taunt, yanking the microwave door open and retrieving the piping hot bag of popcorn from inside, sucking in a harsh breath as your fingertips branded red from the heat.

The voice on the line laughs. It’s almost sinister, not at all comforting. You’re not even sure why you’re entertaining this jackass who’s calling you when all they’ve done so far is giggle at your expense.

“How did you even get this number, you fucking troll?” You probe, frowning as you squeeze your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you pry open the popcorn bag. Of course, it bursts, sending a few pieces scattered around the kitchen. You simply roll your eyes and sigh at the inconvenience.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and clean up the mess you made?”

You squat down to pick up the kernels you dropped, only realizing the extent of what the voice said a moment later. Your eyes widen, and your chest surges with panic. You look around, but all the windows are closed and covered. Was that just a lucky guess, or is someone watching you?

Out of instinct, you reach for the knife block on the kitchen counter and yank out the biggest one. The blade gleams silver in the light, and you realize how exposed you are.

You set down the knife on the counter and quickly move around the house, shutting off the lights and concealing you in a dim darkness.

“What happened to the show? Why did the curtain close?” The low, sinister voice asks, and you whimper quietly in your hand to conceal your fear. “I liked watching you walk around,” he pauses, and all you can hear is your heart pounding, “in those red little panties.”

You hate to admit that this flicks a nasty switch in you, chased and taunted, talked down to by an unknown figure. As much as you’re scared, a small churning begins low in your tummy, and you clench your thighs tighter together.

With a shaky breath, you nibble on your lower lip and slowly move towards the front windows. You slowly peek them open, seeing nothing but your reflection and darkness.

“Can you see me?” You ask nervously, licking at your lower lip.

“Ahhh, there she is.” The voice praises, forcing you to swallow a lump down your throat. “Push those curtains open all the way. Want to see all of you.” You shiver, and the pooling in your panties only becomes more urgent. Someone’s watching you, and they like what they see.

Following the anonymous caller’s instructions, you slowly push open the curtains, your body backlist by a dim light still on in the kitchen. The voice hums in appreciation.

You blame it on your state of panic for not thinking clearly or logically for that manner. This creep wanted you, you could hear the slight desperation clinging to their voice.

“Promise me you won’t fuckin’ harm me, and I-I’ll put on a show for you. Isn’t that what you want? You said you liked my panties.” You breathily point out, opting to put the phone on speakerphone and setting it down on the bench in front of the now curtain-drawn windows.

The voice on the other line hums, pondering your offer. A shiver rolls over your spine as you subconsciously cross your arms in front of your body, scared and nerve-wracked.

“You have a gorgeous body. Let me see it. All of it.” The voice echoes within the quiet home, and you blink back the fear that is resting heavily on your chest. You take in a shaky breath and do as you are told.

Your hands go to the hem of your top, about to lazily toss it off when you are tsk tsk-ed at. You frown and quickly pull the t-shirt back down.

“Not like that!” The voice barks, angry and condescending, making you whimper. The voice pauses and takes a breath. “Slower.”

“Slower..” you whisper back, hearing the voice hum. You still couldn’t see outside, merely darkness and your reflection. You were fucking terrified, but if this was what they wanted, just maybe they’d let you be.

You try again. Your hands slowly start at the sides of your neck, pretty and dainty fingers cascading down to your clavicle. You push one hand into the hair at the back of your neck, lightly ruffling the strands while the other skims lower to more dangerous territory.

The heel of your palm skirts down the front of your shirt until your fingers flitter over the hem of your panties.

It feels stupid what you’re doing, but it makes you feel alive. Your heart has never beat faster. You’ve never turned on a complete stranger, stalker, even. You were in control of the show here.

You’re not exactly sure what to look at in the window, so you admire the reflection. You hum sweetly as you hook your thumbs into the tops of your panties. You loop them around, from front to back, stopping at the sides and lightly pushing down to show glimpses of your hips.

The breathing on the other end shuffles. It almost makes you stop.

“This turn you on?” You ask. “Does this make you have your hand around your cock?” You ask into the phone, smiling lightly as you turn around, lifting up the shirt from covering your ass, giving them a peek-a-boo of you from the back.

The evil voice echoes a laugh. “How did you know?”

Being correct makes you all the more turned on. “How could you not?”

I mean, look at you. You looked gorgeous and confident, silhouetted by the light, awed by a strange man. You can hear them jerking it on the line, murmuring little grunts to try and not get ahead of themselves. The show had just begun.

With your back turned to the window still, you cross your arms over your threshold, retrieve your shirt, and lift it up and off of you. Your hair cascades and dances around your back and shoulders. You felt bare, cold. Part of you wished they would come inside and warm you up.

You peer over your shoulder, hearing the approving grunt on speakerphone. You bit on your thumbnail, looking through the glass with big doe eyes.

“You’re not so innocent, pretty girl. Let me see you.”

Now, with your body to show, you felt a bit more nervous. Your fingertips twitched, and you felt shaky on your legs. You did as the voice asked, turning to face the window. Your arms are crossed, covering your bare breasts meekly.

That’s when you see him. A masked man standing a fair distance away out your window. It quickens your pulse and surges you with adrenaline.

Yet you don’t run. You don’t hide.

Your eyes flitter down to their hand shuffling up and down the extent of their cock. The sight alone, even in the dark, being able to see his impressive length was enough to make you let out a needy whimper.

“I-I don’t know about this,” you whimper, your head falling a bit shamefully. It’s like your head caught up with your foolish actions.

“I’m warning you. Put down your fucking arms.”

You let out a shaky breath and wince at the voice, tears simmering on your waterline. You put yourself in this position, you can’t believe you thought this would work.

You slowly drop your hands to your sides, exposing your breasts. And how embarrassing they were, taut and at peaks. They were flush with color, begging for attention. You interlocked your fingers behind your back and chewed on your bottom lip, shyly looking down at the floor as you clamped your thighs tightly together.

“You’re a real beautiful girl,” the voice grunted, flattering you with attention. “Why don’t you let me in.”

The demand didn’t frighten you like maybe it should have. Frankly, you were turned on to the point where it nearly hurt. You didn’t know who this mystery person was or what their intentions were, but they were getting off to seeing you exposed, scared, and alone.

“Come on,” the voice continues. You hear shuffling, and when you look up, the masked man outside your window is gone. You move closer and peer outside, but it’s quiet. Empty.

“Let me take care of you, sweet girl.”

Breaths fans out hastily from your nostrils, panicked as you looked around slowly from the front entrance to the back.

The doorbell rings, and it makes you jump nonetheless.

You bite down on your bottom lip as you retrieve your phone and slowly cross to the door in just your socks and underwear. Your forearm covers your breasts. Your hand rests on the handle, but you have a hard time willing yourself to open it.

The doorbell rings again, another jump through your bones, but this time, it implores you to swing the door open. And there he was.

He was tall, you had to crane your neck to look up. Your lips part, doe eyes taking in how close he is, stepping back in shock at his appearance. Broad shoulders cloaked by a black hooded robe. It was tattered, lined with rips and tears at the seams that draped from his arms. He also wore large, black, combat boots. The scariest thing of all was the mask. It was white with black eyes and a sloped open black mouth.

Whoever was behind the mask was fit. Their toned body could be discovered even behind the robust black robe. He wore black gloves, too. You don’t realize that as you’re taking him in, the protective arm you had concealing your breasts has since lowered.

“Scary night to be alone, isn’t it?” The voice is still animatronic as the masked man’s head tilts and observes you through the black cloth eye holes.

You nod your head, its pace quick.

“Invite me in. Don’t want you to catch a chill.”

It was disturbing to admit how stupid you felt letting this freakshow stalker into your boyfriend’s home, but in a really weird and taboo way, you found the anonymity of the man attractive. You saw his cock while he stood outside, his large hand stroking over himself at the sight of your body. You figure he must have put the gloves back on once he wanted to come inside.

As if he could read your mind, the masked man stepped inside with his tall stature looming over yours. He slowly plucked off one of his gloves, and you see his flesh.

You watch him carefully as he brings his hand to cup your cheek. You flinch at first, but there is truly nothing to be frightened of. He strokes away a dry, panicked tear from earlier. You can’t help but let out a shaky, wavering whimper. He touches you with such delicacy but hides behind a mask that scares you to your core.

“Just as I thought,” His animatronic voice echoed, his hand dropping to your hair that fell around your face and sweeping it behind your shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

Your hair was no longer concealing your breasts. You gasp shakily as his hand carefully caresses your tit, thumb featherlight over your nipple, before he cups and lightly squeezes your juicy flesh.

You swallow down a lump and cower before him. You’re afraid for when he goes lower what he might find, how your slick is dampening your thighs, and your clit is pulsating for him. You need him. It’s sick, gross, disgusting, but you need him.

“Please, Mr.,” you trail off, unsure of what to call him.

“Ghostface.” He aids, and you quickly nod as your lips part. Your worst fear is coming true as his calloused hand and rough fingertips guide themselves further down the soft skin of your stomach and to your panties.

“Please, Mr. Ghostface, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” You can’t help but feel tears welling in your eyes once more.

The masked man sighs and slowly shakes his head in shame.

“I don’t think it’s about what I want to do to you. But what you want me to do to you.” He aggressively cups your sex, feeling his fingers squish with the soaked material of your red panties. You whimper and clutch his arm, biting back whimpery moans that you’re so desperate to let out. You were secretly begging to be touched. Your thighs clamp around the man’s hand.

He deviously chuckles. “This is all for me, sweet girl?”

The man walks you backward until your back is flushed to the wall. You’re still holding his arm in place between your thighs. His fingers add pressure to your bundle of nerves. You lightly grind your hips down into his fingers and let out an embarrassed little moan.

“Y-Yes.” Admitting in defeat made your stomach churn. “But I want to hear your voice.” You whisper, unsure if you can even make demands in your position right now.

Ghostface sighs weakly but plucks something out from under his mask. It looks sort of like a smaller walkie-talkie. It was a voice changer. Your eyes flitter to the eyes of his mask. It was black, empty. Finally, you would hear his true voice, and you prayed it was as sexy as he looked.

“Is this what you wanted to hear, darlin’?”

You lightly gasp at the southern drawl, deep and guttural, musk-filled and leaving you in a tailspin. His voice was hot, causing a pool of your white-hot heat to leak once more into your panties. You finally nod to his question and let your hands skim across the man’s front. He was toned, like you imagined, with hardened plains and a toughened, thick torso under his black cloak.

“You’re comin’ with me.” The voice growls. He leans down and scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder as you gasp and whimper, feeling him trail you up the stairs. His black combat boots echo loudly through the stairwell. He’s so strong. How he knows the layout of the house scares you and implores you. It’s like he knows you, and you may know him.

He takes you to the master bedroom, the one you share with your boyfriend. Fuck, your boyfriend. A naughty sin to cheat, a naughty sin to like it. It’s hard to picture him right now with the man above you captivating your full attention.

Your breasts jiggle when he throws you back onto the mattress. You scramble further up it, putting a safe distance between you and Ghostface. He grips you at your ankles and pulls you to him in an eager yank. A cry escapes your throat, but it’s just because you’re nervous. You saw how big he was in his hand outside, and now, soon, you’d hope he would be inside of you.

“Please,” you whimper, and Ghostface tilts his head. “I-I..” you trail off and shake your head, embarrassment and shame pumping through your veins.

“You, what? Spit it out, pretty girl.” The voice says as he slowly takes off the hooded robe. He wears black pants and a black t-shirt under it but keeps the mask on. You like the mask on.

“I… I need you, Mr. Ghostface, please,” you whimper. Since he pulled you by your ankles back to the edge of the bed, your centers lightly graze one another. You make it a point to grind your hips eagerly into his, smearing the front of his pants with your slick.

The masked man hums in appreciation. You feel his hardened length concealed by his pants. Whimpers leave your mouth as you sit up and reach forward, unbuttoning the black pants with shaky hands. You unzip him and yank him free of his confines. You nearly freeze at his length, prominent veins lining up and down his cock from his pink tip to his swollen balls.

“You wanna live tonight, baby girl?” The low southern voice asks. You quickly nod, big, desperate eyes wanting to fill his every carnal need.

“Then get on your fucking knees, m’gonna fuck your throat.”

He’s aggressive as he pulls you down onto the floor by your hair. You scream out of instinct, but the heat on your scalp brings needy relief.

You quickly scramble properly to your knees and shuffle your hand over him. One hand isn’t enough, so you add your second. He’s so large and girthy. Fucking your mouth would hurt so good. You hope you’re a slobbering mess for him once he’s done with you.

“Did I say your hands?” You frown and slowly stop, shaking your head. “I said your throat, want your fucking throat, you little slut.”

You whimper and force yourself to put your hands behind your back, your breasts perking out more as you spit over him, watching it glide down his shaft and spill onto your shaking thighs. You lick your lips and wrap your mouth around his sensitive tip.

The masked man seethes through his teeth. He takes off both gloves and knots his fingers into your hair. You’re intimidated by his size, anyone would be, so you try to relax your throat and let him sink further and further in.

Your eyes go wide as he rams himself down your throat impatiently. Your hands instinctively fly up to his thighs, smacking at them and clutching desperately, trying to explain with a lack of words that you’re choking on him. You cry out, but his cock muffles you.

“M’not a patient man, I’m warning you now.”

You clench your teary eyes closed and sniffle, trying your best to swallow around him and breathe through your nose. Your black mascara tears turns him on, and he twitches in your mouth.

With a shaky breath, you try again. You have to start slow at first, but you remember how impatient he is. You slick his cock with your spit, trying to work up his shaft inch by inch.

“Open your mouth up, nice and wide for me.” The sight of his mask makes you twitch, but you do as he says and drop your jaw for him. You even go as far as to stick out your tongue for him.

“Wow,” he admires, as both of his hands wind up into your hair and carve out sections of your hair to create ponytails in his fists. “Such a good girl f’me.”

His praise makes you purr, bringing your hands up to your front as you massage over the squishy flesh of your tits.

You let out a low mewl as he stuffs your mouth again, stuffing your face with his cock. It takes a few moments, but you gradually learn how to accommodate him. He hits the back of your throat repeatedly, and he likes it when you choke around him. You try to see him through your teary eyes, whimpering around his cock.

The masked man’s grip on your hair tightens as he pulls you into his cock and holds you there, balls flushed to your mouth as they smack against your chin. He groans, long and low, holding you down as his cock suffocates your throat. You swallow around him, tasting drops of precum, whimpering around him as you struggle to breathe. Despite it causing you to choke even more around him, you stick out as much of your tongue as you can and teasingly lick at his balls.

He sucks in harshly through his teeth and moans, gripping the ponytails even tighter, making your scalp sear in pain. But it was all worth it because he was so goddamn big in your throat. You hoped he would split your pussy.

With a harsh yank, the masked man rips you from his cock. You instantly cough and gag, trying to swallow around the excessive puddles of saliva grouping in the back of your throat and now dripping out of your mouth. You looked like a disgusting mess.

You plant your hands on the floor and drop your head, looking like a dog as you shakily regain your breathing. You slowly look up, seeing his hardened cock slap up against his toned stomach, dripping with your slobber.

You meekly wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and stand up, your legs shaking beneath you. With as much courage as you can muster, you reach for Ghostface’s hand and slowly pull it to your center as you sit on the edge of the bed.

“Please,” you beg in a meek whisper, swallowing the messy amount of existing saliva and precum down your throat as you blink through black, mucky, mascara tears. Your eyes flutter as his long, meaty fingers slowly circle around your clit through your panties. It’s jaw-dropping, stomach-fluttering madness. It’s like he knows you like the back of your hand. “Please, fuck me.” You whisper desperately, pulling him slowly towards the direction of the bed. Towards you.

You don’t feel any more safe with him, but you like the excitement of feeling on the fence. Would he be rough or gentle with you? Call you his sweet girl or his little slut? The edging of unsureness and torrid manipulation has forced white hot heat to pool into your core, and you sure as hell spoiled these red panties enough.

The masked man drops his gaze to your mound. His hands reach up to the sides of your hips.

It’s slow and desperate at first, he almost fools you. Ghostface weakly chuckles before he begins to rip the measly material from your lower half. You yelp out as it causes your body to get tugged around. Your panties are now a mess of threads on the floor. You whimper desperately, clamping your thighs closed on instinct despite wanting the opposite.

Ghostface grabs your ankles and forcibly parts your legs, turning his head slowly as he watches your glistening core.

“Y-You could have a taste, y’know, if you take off the mask.” You offer, your heart pounding in your chest. You loosely hook your leg around his hip and pull him closer. Ghostface plants his hands on either side of your head, hovering over you as his heavy breath puffs through the mask.

Ghostface pulls one hand away to his side and shucks something off his belt. You gasp and flinch your eyes closed as a large knife glimmers in the moon’s light.

“You think I’m going to show you my face, you stupid bitch? Huh?” He taunts you, wielding the knife closer and closer to your throat as you cry out, but clamp your legs tighter around his waist and pull your centers together. You can feel his fat cock sliding up and down your exposed folds. You’re so needy, and it’s repulsive.

He sickeningly laughs, jutting the tip of his knife against the underside of your chin. It hurts, it stings, and you hope it leaves a mark from him so you can look at it later when you replay this night in your mind. You hope he spares you so you can think endlessly about him.

“I-I want you to keep the mask on.” You purr nervously, your hand drifting down your stomach towards your exposed mound.

Ghostface chuckles, low and demonic. “You want me to fuck you with the mask on?” He asks slowly, trilled with curiosity.

It fills you with a pit of guilt and shame in your stomach. But you slowly nod. You were willing to risk everything, your boyfriend, your safety, your life, just to ensure this man filled you to the brim like you know he could.

“Please do. Fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.” You beg. Though you can’t see, you imagine him smirking behind his mask, looking at you with a sense of intrigue and disgust. How could you be so twisted?

“My pleasure.” He says goadingly, ripping the hold you had on the sheets and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed. You cry out as he forcibly spreads your legs with his body and slaps his cock against your aching center. You’re so sensitive from waiting, you needed to have him this very second.

A smirk twitched on your lips, but you forced yourself to bite it down, shakily moaning as Ghostface tucks away his knife and wraps his large hand around his cock, lining up his tip to your dripping center. You flinch every time he purposely flicks your anxious bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your hand clutching his bicep greedily. “Please, need to feel you inside of me.” You whimper.

Ghostface reaches up and smears his hand down your face, your cheeks smudged with your mucky tears as you whine like a little brat. For your insolence, he strikes you across the face before nastily grabbing you by your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat for a stranger’s dick, such a fucking hungry cock slut, aren’t you?” He degraded you to your very core, soiling his cock in your gushing slick. You were pretty sure that if he even just breathed over your mound, you would come.

Ghostface enjoys your desperate whimpers for his dick. He’s more than happy to deliver. He angles his tip to your entrance and notches himself inside. Your gasp surges his adrenaline as he parts you egregiously.

You hook your hands on the underside of your legs, keeping yourself wide and spread for the masked man above you. Inch by inch, you feel your head lose focus, your mind floating as you see stars that consume your vision.

The moans you give him are heavenly, he thinks he’s never heard a more beautiful thing. He’s a sadist watching you take his cock, knowing it hurts, knowing you’re forcing yourself open for him, knowing how much you’re drunk off it. He just can’t help himself to wait.

Air is knocked from your lungs when Ghostface decides he’s, again, not a patient man. He fucks the last few inches into you and hard, pushing you to your limits and filling you to the brim.

Your head is thrown back as you scream in shock, never having been fucked by someone who feels so good. You sob as your walls flutter around him, attempting to accommodate the size in such a short amount of time.

“Yes! Jesus Christ- Fuck!” You moan out, to which Ghostface chuckles lowly.

“Take me so well,” he’s trying to breathe through being squeezed so tightly by your walls, even he finds it difficult. “Such a pretty girl, just needs to be fucked to keep her- shit - her goddamn mouth shut.” The man growls behind the mask and starts to fuck you at an earth-shattering pace.

You cry out in shock, gripping Ghostface at his biceps and whimpering at how strong he is. He pulls himself nearly all the way out of you before he flushes his hips right back to you, slapping your ass cheeks with his clothed thighs. That’s when he really begins to rail you.

You see stars, still adjusting to his size, your slick pooling around him with excitement. You hazily smile, fucked dumb by a stranger, filled to the brim as you stare at the ceiling. Your visions jumps up and down as Ghostface pounds you senselessly. The bedframe rattles and the legs skirt against the hardwood floors.

Impatient whines from you fill the room as he pulls himself from your pussy, moaning out for him needily. He manhandles you, grabbing your hips forcefully and flipping you over onto your stomach.

“Ass up, let’s go.” He commands.

You were still in a funk, head wiped empty of any palpable information. You whimpered as you tried to move but at the pace of a snail.

His impatient hands grip you tightly at your hips, forcing a broken yelp from your throat as he pulls you up to bend over, shoving your face into the mattress and angling your ass up for him to use.

“Yes, please use me,” you whimper desperately, reaching your hands back and parting your ass cheeks for him. “Finish inside me, use me as your cum dumpster.” Where was this language coming from?! This wasn’t you, you didn’t sound or look like you. He was turning you into someone new, someone satisfied by his anonymity. You’d never know who was fucking you senseless, and it might drive you mad until you find out, if you ever will, that is.

Your thoughts are squashed from your mind as a harsh slap followed by a greedy grip is splayed across your ass. A yelp is pulled from your throat, instincts telling you to flinch away and protect yourself.

“Ah-ah,” the man teases, his angry fingers creating bruises on your hips as he pulls you back to the edge of the bed to be his little sex servant. “Good girls take what they are given, so take it,” Ghostface says as he smacks your other cheek, reddening them both, jiggling the flesh much to his appeal.

His large palms seared his prints into your ass, gripping your ass and pulling you to his cock. He lines himself up, and you take him again.

You don’t understand unless it’s happening to you, how it feels like you’re floating in space, fucked numb but also feeling like you’re on pins and needles. It’s indescribable to enjoy being fucked by a stranger, but it’s happening, and it’s happening to you.

He penetrates you, parting your walls, making himself a home inside you. You squeeze around him, and he moans. It satisfies you so intensely.

“Beg for me,” he mutters through the mask, grunting with each thrust. He must be close.

“P-Please, keep fucking me so good, please Mr. Ghostface-”

“No!” He strikes your pretty ass again, hard, and your warm flesh singes with heat. You whimper, imagining how red, angry, and large his handprint looks stamped on your ass.

“Want you to beg... for your life.” His voice had turned as cold as stone, ridged with a sadist tone that left goosebumps bubbling on the surface of your skin. A scared feeling sunk into the pit of your stomach. You swallowed a lump down your throat and shyly peeked around your shoulder to take him in.

“P-Please… I want to live,” you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets as Ghostface slowly picks back up the paces of his thrusts. He’s turned on by this.

“Oh my- please, I know you d-don’t know me, but I’m good, l-look how good I’m being for you,” you begin to cry as he fucks you harder, your ass clapping aggressively against his thighs and the grip he has on your hips intensifies.

He loves fucking you until you cry. Such a sadist.

Ghostface gives a few last gut-twisting thrusts, and his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly. He’s so large you can feel him in your tummy. His hand reaches around your hip, and the other stays gripping your ass while he spanks your clit lightly with his fingers.

“Fuck!” You cry out, beginning to throw your ass back into him, creating your own unique rhythm together. You’re so sensitive, and you’re coming before you can even fully register it.

“Mr. Ghostface, please,” you whimper. “I-I’m coming so fu-ucking hard,” you mewl for him, your thighs twitching along with your walls that squeeze around him, begging to milk him for his seed.

Ghostface’s thick and angry cock twitches inside of you, desperate to fill your needy hole with his sperm. He grunts and pants into the mask, filling his own body with a heat that makes him sweat. He pounds himself into you until you’re flattened against the mattress, begging for release, begging to live.

There’s something about your obedience that he gives into, his cock twitching deep inside the warm comfort of your walls and between your beautiful ass cheeks. He pulls out and pants, handling his cock as he paints your ass white.

The warm droplets of come make you twitch, but it’s so hot to be painted white by the man who praised you and degraded you all night long.

You’re a heap of nothing strewn about the mattress. You can’t seem to calm your shaky breath. You lay there limp, unable to move, unable to think. All you can think about is the man behind the mask and how irate and perverted he is. And how much you fell into his trap.

Shame twisted your guts enough, forcing you to get up and turn around and face your stalker. But when you turned back, he was gone. How long were you not paying attention?

You quickly retrieved your robe, forcing yourself to walk despite your legs feeling like liquid gelatin. Checking room to room, you survey your boyfriend's home and are left empty-handed. It’s like he was never here.

From the top of the stairs, you hear the door open and close.

“Honey?” Your heart sinks, hearing your boyfriend kick off his shoes on the mat.

Rushing down the stairs, you collapse into his arms and cry out of guilt. You tell him everything. Everything besides the show in front of the windows and getting fucked by Ghostface in his own bed. There’s more to leave out than to leave in, but the short story is that you were taunted over the phone by a masked man, scared to death, and begged for your life.

His first reaction was to call the police, and despite how much you hesitated, you let him. Two nice offers responded to the call. They sat you two down separately and asked you what had happened. You were wrapped in a blanket and your robe, shaking in disappointment.

It was scary, lying to the cops, withholding all of the truth. Making sure not to overshare any details. You also didn’t want to give away that you liked it. To the bone, you liked it.

You were hunted like prey tonight, used, fucked hard until you couldn’t breathe. Left in the dark, feeling a little crazy if it even happened in the first place. But you could feel him still inside of you, stretched and still leaking between your thighs. You tugged your robe tighter, smiling weakly at the officer as he closed his notebook.

“We’ll figure out what we can ma’am. For now, keep everything locked up. I wouldn’t leave the house alone.” You wipe away the mucky mascara on your cheeks and sigh, nodding as you walk with the officer to the door.

His badge read J. Miller. He was older, stippled with grey hair within his dark curly locks. He had an aquiline nose and plumish-rose lips. His broad chest strikes something somewhat familiar to you. He glances behind you at the officer who is still asking your boyfriend a few questions.

Officer Miller sighed, looking over the door frame curiously.

“Said you locked the doors?”

You hesitate but nod compliantly.

His pointer finger shapes over the lock, then the entry metal hinge. “No forced entry.” He notes, looking at you curiously.

You evade his eye contact and conceal yourself tighter in your blanket and robe. “I.. I don’t know how he got in.” Your eyes find the floor, planting themselves there as you stare at Officer Miller’s familiar black police boots.

He hums curiously, looking over you slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me everythin’ that happen to you tonight?”

Your doe eyes go wide, your head snapping up to Officer Miller’s. “I-I promise, please, Officer Miller-”

He holds up a hand to cut you off, and you weakly stand there with your lips parted. Then he starts to nod and slowly smile. “That’s a good girl.”

It strikes you like a bolt of lightning, fear and curiosity consume you. You hear footsteps behind you, the other officer, and your boyfriend, who collects his arm around your shoulders.

Officer Miller watches you with a glint of intrigue but nothing more. His eyes shift to your boyfriend’s arm protectively wrapped around you. It makes him twitch up a stomach-twisting smile before he turns to his fellow officer.

“Got everything you need?” Officer Miller asks, tucking his thumbs into the front of his belt while he observes the other officer’s notepad. The officer nods and places his small notebook and pen in his breast pocket.

“Got everything we need. You two stay safe.”

The other officer ducks out first and nods curtly, Officer J. Miller stands there a moment longer.

“Happy Halloween.” He said with a sickening smile. “Be sure to lock the door behind me.”

You gulp as you look over Officer Miller meekly before he disappears outside and into the night. Where he belonged.

---

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midnxght-sweet-time · 11 months

Text

╰─▸ ❝ [ ⚠ 18+ 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗼 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗜𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁. ] ❞

» " 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑓 ! " ◥

➤ 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬.

∷ 𝚂𝚢𝚙𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚜 ▼

In a desperate act of hunger, you broke the Queen of hearts rule #089 : You must not eat the queen's tarts without her permission. Even as a non member of Heartslabyul, do you really think you could get away with such atrocity?

∷ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝚃𝚆 ▼

Suspense. ▪︎ Reader making dumb decisions. ▪︎ NSFW. ▪︎ Smut. ▪︎ Choking/use of collar. ▪︎ Overstimulation. ▪︎ Raw/unprotected sex ▪︎ Possessive sex. ▪︎ Angry sex. ▪︎ Dumbification. ▪︎ Oral sex. ▪︎ Cock-drunk/pussy-drunk. ▪︎ Squirting. ▪︎ Creampie. ▪︎ You get fold to a mating press. ▪︎ You're also being stuffed like a turkey. ▪︎ Rip your legs your never walking again. ▪︎ Riddle is sexually fustrated. ▪︎ Not proofread. ▪︎ Please I wrote this during English class–

— ● ✎ Note :

Listen to me— I had been suggested a reel of that one scene of Alice in Wonderland from the live action and from that I somehow got this big brain idea to commit to it. For those who seen it ya'll should know where this came from. This is actually my first time writing smut– in a more descriptive narrative sense, to those uhhhh horny connoisseurs, I'd like some feedback if any thx qwq. Anyways, have fun reading sweeties ♡

"Someone has stolen my tarts!!!"

The shocking sound of the doors being slammed open with such violent force made you swallow any comfort you had before and replace it with dread.

The once lively room of friends now went silent and still like a sudden interrupted record player. It wasn't the fact that the door was nearly knocked out of its hinges that scared everyone— no, whether that poor door were to ever move again was the least of anyones' worries; it was the fact that someone's or everyone's heads will roll to the ground… metaphorically speaking.

This situation however seems to differ from every other; of all the times you have stood still as a common bystander that got caught in the crossfire, this was entirely different.

Sweat rolled down the side of your face as your heart thumps uncontrollably as if looking for an escape. How your terrified heart screamed at you to run or hide and cower any way out of the dorm leader's piercing sharp gaze that bore through every person in this room all at once. Your lips straighten and your teeth sink into the gums behind it as a vain attempt at calming yourself from the beast that's approaching.

The taste of strawberry on your lips seems to be indigestible now…

The heels of polished boots were more than a warning— they were unspoken yet clear threats to anyone who even dares think of moving an inch besides him. Those gray-blue tinted orbs that flitz from one side to the other. Eyes furrowed at a certain orange haired male that had his strands standing on end with a mere click of his tongue.

"Trappola."

The first suspect was called. Ace immediately shot up from his lousy posture and stood tall before the vicious queen as if a card soldier on command. "Did you steal my tarts?" Like a man being held at gunpoint, Ace took a moment to keep himself steady before speaking, "No dorm leader." The eyes of Riddle stayed on him for a few seconds before continuing on the straight path of students to interrogate the next.

"Spades."

The other pair of cards was called. Unlike the heart, the spade was more self-assured. Deuce eyes at Riddle with an equally bold glare. He was more well adjusted to the situation as seen in his confident expression. Yet the slight shiver of his fingers and legs were opposing this. "I did not eat your tarts, dorm leader." That was all it took for Riddle to look satisfied with his answer. An approving nod was given as Deuce was left off the hook easily. It almost made your eyes twitch in envy.

Those bluish gray eyes went back to scanning the lounge of students. The look on Riddle's face seems to soften a bit now, but it was a mere facade that gives a false sense of security. The tightening of his fist was a dead give away to you that puts you on high alert, it was clear that he was still very pissed off and is dead set on finding the culprit. This caused gears in your head to start turning as you suddenly had a stray warning thought. You noticed how… out of character the tyrant suddenly was. You know how lenient he has been ever since his Overblot, but how he takes his time in searching for the tart thief feels more calculated.

Everyone knew Riddle doesn't take lightly to anyone stealing anything from him, especially his precious tarts. So for him to be slow and steady in this pace felt so off. It felt like he already knew who the culprit was and was simply going about a routine of interrogation. Maybe to coax the truth out of anyone by crushing them under the pressure like a bug at the bottom of his heels.

It sure had you sitting on the edge of your seat as if you were watching a horror movie. Your back sinking further into the velvet plush cushion of the seat as if you were trying to sink into it to get out of this situation. The way his intimidating presence prances around the room like a hunting predator had your eyes glued to his every move as you prayed internally for him to move on even if you knew the off chance of him ever letting this one broken rule slide was undoubtedly little to none.

As if the universe decided to screw you over, Riddle pretty much ignores the last two of the remaining dorm members and goes straight to you. His supposed short form towering over yours as he stood tall. A shadow was cast in front of you and Riddle from how the looming physical threat was preventing any light from comforting you at all. The only 'lumination' to this unwelcoming cover was the look in his eyes that metaphorically shines as he glares down at you and the anxiety burning through your entire being. Slowly did his face edge to yours as he bent down to take a good look at you. A slight widening takes over his eyes as if he wants you to take a good look at his pupils that had a glow of rage and suspicion. His lips move slowly as every word places an invisible pressure on your chest at the impending doom.

"Did you steal my tart?"

Gulping down whatever was left of your pride, your lips barely parted and were about to let out only hush whispers until the red tyrant spoke once again. "Open your mouth wide and speak, darling." It was like a purr and a growl. How his voice was harsh but the word 'wide' draped along his throat.

Inhaling a deep breath as if the enraged boy stole your breath away with just his mere presence. You gathered yourself and repeated the words that the previous suspects have heaved out, "No. Riddle."

But it was barely enough. Meanings behind those words were half baked and hardly convincing to the red queen's ears. As no matter how innocent and petite Riddle's short form may look, his mind was far from being naive. One brow rose up as he scanned your entire expression, making your breathing unsteady once more. It was so nerve-wracking how he was inching towards you. Those wide mad eyes coming closer and closer.

You looked to the side as your panicked gaze focused at the heart and the spade markings on the side of your friends' faces. Your pupils shake as if begging them to say or to help you. But no matter how desperate you may look, everyone stood still and watched as if they were just statues that were glued in place; unmoving and never dared utter a word, either by the fear of being targeted next or perhaps with a blank mind and no plans to save your sorry ass.

But as your sight shifted back, all your vision was covered with faded red of eye shadow on fair skin, as small locks of hair in the same red shade brushed against your eyelashes. The feeling of soft smooth lips connecting with your dry ones was what overwhelmed your senses. It was then you realize you were trapped within the tyrant's hold. Something slippery glides across the dry skin at the side of your mouth all the way to the other end with a slow sensual lick, wetting the surface and picking up the lingering flavor and syrup that you left behind.

A gentle touch on your cheek that almost caught you off guard. It caresses your skin gently yet holds you in place with how those fingernails gripped at your skin like an anchor and dragged it down to your chin. Your breath was stolen once again as you finally realized the unexpected osculation was a way of finding the evidence to your thievery.

As he finally pulls away with a thin trail of spittle connecting from his end of his tongue to your lips, you didn't notice how red and hot your cheeks burned with how fast your heart race; either from the fear of being caught or the sudden display of affection that made you almost forget you had a literal audience that starred at you two with wide eyes as if you were a victim placed on an unfair trial. But it doesn't seem Riddle was all too bothered by the latter.

All his focus was on you, furrowed anger displayed on his face as his eyes bore through yours once again but this time with a hint of an indescribable emotion that you can't seem to decipher. A small wet puckered noise rings in your ears as you notice that same wet muscle glided along his lips the same way it did with yours. With one final inhale, he slowly inches backwards with soft spoken words you didn't know you'd be terrified of hearing:

"It's strawberry jam."

Lewd sounds of skin slapping together was drowned with the dizzying sense of pleasure leaving you gasping for air and crying out incoherent sobs. The way your body jolts up with each pound of his hips against your ass, has you gripping onto the fabric of Riddle's tie that bound your hands together in a cute little bow.

"I w-was just hungry– I–"

Your words were cut off by the harsh slap and the knock of the tip of his girthy cock ramming up your cervix, shutting you up. The sound of wet squelches echoes through the room and those bluish gray eyes bore holes through yours with such intimidating presence. "Stop making excuses." The red head sneers, flickers of anger and hunger still laced in his eyes that made you shiver accompanied by his gloved hands that gripped onto your waist securely as he forced you through his harsh relentless thrusts.

He wouldn't hear you. The only thing he took into account is the non stop moaning that he can drive them out of you. You were just hungry. You would have asked for his permission or known it was his if he wasn't away doing other things, cooped up in his room for who knows how long.

…Or perhaps that bitter thought was what led you to spite him and stole the tart in hopes you could get away with it. You were planning to replace it, you swear! But Riddle would never listen and insist on punishing you tenfold.

You shift your head to the side, your neck aching with how tightly the collar squeezed at your throat. "Please— so- s'too much–" your senses have already been overloaded. You lost track of time with how long Riddle has been stuffing you with his cock. You could barely register his words as he muttered, "And you are to take it like how you took my tart." He has fucked you well past tears, past the point your voice have started to grow more hoarse. Your legs that once wrapped around his waist so obediently have now fallen limp; much to the dorm leader's annoyance, he had to hold them down for you.

"You don't know how to behave do you?" The tyrant grunts. The table rocking off all papers and pens he worked so hard to organize just to make space for you. He continues to feed you his girth, vigorously plunging into you that had you seeing stars. Fuck. His too much— you would beg and cry for him to stop if he didnt keep interrupting you with well-aimed thrusts that kept you moaning or even demand you shut up and take his cock like the good little slut you are.

It felt so good but the overstimulation made you feel like you could just burst.

He was ruthless in his punishment, making sure to make this as mind-breakingly numb as possible. The infamous collar was chained tightly on your neck to make sure you were reminded of your misdeeds with how little air you get to take in. Your mind is turned to mush with how nicely his length rubs against the plush walls of your leaking hole. Juices that were already squirted out mixed with cum that overflowed have been leaking down to the crack of your ass and to your back. Your sore legs are gripped so tightly as you've been folded into an overused mating press.

You felt his hand grabbing your jaw and slowly turning your head to face him. The touch was oddly gentle in contrast to the rough treatment you've been given. His eyes now gleam their color at you with a more softer look than that furrowed glare from before, yet it was still just as frightening with how sternly expressed he looks at you.

"Keep your eyes on me. You have yet to apologize for your actions."

Another harsh single slam against you, telling you he has reached another high. His tip pulsates and you moan at the feeling of another wave of cum pumping you full again. His cock sliding in and out subtly to get a bit more friction to stimulate the ejaculation, filling you up again with another load.

You heaved out a desperate gasp, "Ri-Riddle– 'm sorry."

Another savage slap of his balls on your ass. He starts fucking you again. Pushing you onto the table. He bends down to sink his teeth on your collarbone, planting another bite besides the dozens that are already littered on you from neck to shoulder, some even on your thighs. He holds onto that part of your skin like a rabid animal that had been starved— perhaps he was seeing as how you took the one thing other than you he was looking forward to after work. Your cunt already all puffy and swollen from the abuse, yet it sucks in his dick as if yearning for more.

"Queen of hearts– rule- fuck, rule #053. You w-will replace what you stole— but I want… your integrity."

Inhaling your scent, his head is still buried in your neck. Your hands that were bound have given up the struggle and instead clawed at your own palm. The fabric felt like it was part of you now. You felt like a folded origami with how long you've stayed in such a position. Squirming underneath your queen that holds you so possessively, completely at his mercy. His girth and cream stretching you and keeping you full, you're not sure if you want him to ever pull out and be emptied.

You can feel every heavy vein that drags along your slippery slick walls. You were so very sensitive, panting like a dog. Perhaps this was your third— no… fifth orgasm? You really can't recall anymore when you're squirting out like a hose. Your juices glistened and coats his whole length. Lubricating it so well his thrusts were so smooth but still so rough.

"You are to obey these rules. Understood?"

"Y–yes-!"

Your vision gets hazy as you keep rocking on his dick, your cunt being constantly destroyed from the inside out. You were completely fucked dumb. Riddle really has no intention of stopping until your sweet little mind can think of nothing but the pure stifling bliss his putting you through or til the clock strikes midnight and your pussy is left overflowing with his cum as a mark of your discipline.

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #yandere riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland riddle #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #twst riddle x reader #riddle x yuu #riddle x y/n #riddle x mc #twst #twisted wonderland #twst smut #twst riddle smut #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x yuu #riddle rosehearts x mc

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jinwoosungs · 22 days

Text

{ 133 }

season's call.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ my beloved season calls me | because i always feel you in me. }

most people would cower in fear at the thought of walking alone in the middle of the night-

yet you could say with confidence that you were not one of those people.

despite being a young woman living in the midst of the big city like seoul, you found a strange safety while walking within the darkness of the night-

a comfort, even.

with your job requiring you to work many hours, it came as no surprise when you came home most days feeling completely drained. the exhaustion seeming to seep within your very bones as your drooping eyes could barely stay open the moment you came back to your apartment.

sometimes, your boyfriend was around, but most times, he would often be working. taking on his duties as the latest s-rank hunter and dominating various gates that appear across the city. but you would never worry too long about him, simply falling back in bed while re-reading his last message that was sent to you until your eyes could barely remain open.

my monarch 👑 [ you just go home and focus on resting. i'll be home soon, i love you. oh, and please, do dream of me. ]

those were the last words you recall reading until your cellphone slipped from your fingertips, ready to land against the hardwood floorings of your shared bedroom had it not been for a certain shadow gently catching it before placing the device on your nightstand.

it wasn't until several hours later that you finally woke up from your nap, which was what lead you to your current predicament.

being well past midnight, you felt groggy from your nap and became aware of the lack of sustenance felt within your system. after freshening up within your bathroom, you allow your eyes to stare blearily at your reflection. your hand touches at your cheeks, noticing the dark circles as you sigh and began to wash your face once more.

"my queen... are you alright?"

as you dry your face with the plush towel, you trail your eyes down towards your shadow, seeing several, glowing purple eyes looking back at you. normally, such a frightening sight would be enough to cause someone to feel an immense fear-

but not to you.

"i'm fine. since there's not much to eat here, i plan to buy something to eat for me and jinwoo at the convenience store. do you mind accompanying me?"

"of course, my queen. our king will be delighted with your decision."

with a smile painting your lips, you nod before grabbing your phone and bag, extracting your keys as you decided to explore the city and buy a late dinner for you and jinwoo to enjoy later on once he comes home. the city was bustling with activity, and you allow the sensation of the wind to course through you, humming a favorite tune as you walked with confidence across the sidewalks.

as you enjoy the sights of the city, you felt danger quickly approaching you. goosebumps were felt erupting all across the expanse of your arm as a low whistle was heard trailing from close behind you. you stiffen momentarily, but ultimately decide to stop walking.

you allow your eyes to follow the voice, seeing a man sneering at you as he came out from a random alleyway. your heart was felt racing slightly, summoning your flight or fight response-

yet your fear was short lived when several, tiny whispers were heard coming from your shadow.

"hey hey hey, what's the rush babygirl? you're lookin' a little lost."

the faint scent of alcohol was evident when you felt the man's calloused hands grabbing on to you. you had to fight back the repulsion that threatens to course through you, mustering the coldest look you could manage when you stiffly tell the drunkard, "i'm taken. my boyfriend will be livid if he sees you forcing yourself onto me."

he gives you a smirk now, his piercings glinting from beneath the moonlight while his hold on you seemed to tighten when he tells you.

"aw, don't be like that, babe. heheh, i bet you're just stiff because you need a good fuckin' to help with loosening you up, that's all."

he was about to get closer to you when he saw the wisps of shadows surrounding you. you close your eyes, already basking in amusement when you saw the panicked look within the bastard's eyes.

"w-what the hell? you a fucking hunter?"

no, but my boyfriend is one.

you keep your thoughts to yourself, allowing the cold shadows to surround you as you briefly wondered what shadow soldier would appear, ready to defend you with their life.

would it be igris? or beru?

"you." within mere seconds, you found your answer, gasping when jinwoo himself appears in front of you.

your knees were weak, feeling your heart began to pound when you were met with jinwoo's broad back. he keeps a powerful hand behind you, using his body as a shield between you and the poor bastard who dared to hit on you.

"a-a-ah..."

you hear the shakiness in his voice when jinwoo grabs a hold of his shirt, slamming the bastard against the harsh, brick wall of the alleyway with a click of his tongue. the bastard never stood a chance, losing his consciousness immediately as he slumps against the concrete.

jinwoo was breathing heavily when he finally faces you, eyes still glowing a bright purple when his shaky hands gently frame at your face.

"are you alright, sarang?" his voice was shaky, still assessing your features for any trace of fear or discomfort. "i'm sorry if i was a little late, but... when i saw that bastard coming on to you-"

he trembles, letting out a shaky sigh when you felt his hands clutching at your shoulders in a tighter manner. "i nearly lost myself to my rage, ready to rip that bastard into shreds if i had to."

finally snapping out of your reveries, you sigh and wrap your arms around jinwoo's neck, your embrace and the way your warmth seemed to surround him being enough to calm him down.

"i'm alright, jinwoo... i'm just so happy to see you again."

you laugh before pressing gentle kisses against his jawline, slowly calming down your beloved boyfriend as he basks in your presence. he lets out a sigh of your name before wrapping his arms around your back, resting his head against your shoulder while gently holding you in his arms.

"did you just finish your raid?"

you look at him with amusement in your eyes when he gives you a gentle nod against your shoulder.

"yeah, i'm done."

"then, let's get some dinner together, shall we?"

you feel jinwoo place a lingering kiss against your shoulders before moving away from you, the rage in his eyes finally dying down into a gentle simmer as you could see the clarity of his grey eyes once more.

"yes, let's go." he nods, with the two of you completely forgetting about the man who was foolish enough to hit on you, leaving his unconscious body near the alleyway he had came from.

and as you continue to explore the city while in the arms of your beloved shadow monarch, you knew that he was the sole reason you had no reason to fear the night-

for sung jinwoo would always be right by your side when danger struck, ready to protect you with all that he had.

a.n. - hhhhhh the jinwoo brainrot is real... please save me jinwoo, my daydreams for you can't seem to stop 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x you #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung #solo leveling x reader #.stories

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anyaeras · 9 months

Text

My litttle spider || N.Romanoff

Pairing || vampire Natasha Romanoff x AFAB reader

Warning || smut! ,, they/them pronouns ,, reader has a pussy ,, loss of virginity ,, innocent kink (kinda) ,, possessive ,, a little manipulation ,, Russian usage

Summary || y/n was a vampire hunter in their village , ended up being fucked by the queen.

FYI || this is short and just smut plus I spent 20 min on it

Masterlist

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Y/n was a hunter, a human hunter at that, known for being ever so brave, the society was split between multiple species, vampires, being one of the dominating species. humans seemed to be on the lower end of the totem pole and would wallow in fear, cowering down to the enhanced.

Tonight was no different than most, y/n was out with the rest of the hunters in the community, their human town was small, but well-kept, and they did well making a system which became their way of living, a few selective people became hunters each person had a different reason for why they were a hunter, which was the most dangerous job, being a Hunter meant constantly putting your life on the line in order to protect your people, most despised the thought of anybody going through that, yet y/n had no one to care for them anyway, their parents were preoccupied, and they never made any friends, they lived as the "wanderer" inside their small town.

"Come on get your shit and let's go, we need to be quick" Kent called out, he was a tall and large man, he was in charge of the hunters for this community, yelling specifically at y/n, they hadn't meant to fall behind just it was a lot for someone their size to carry, that's what they get for being a hunter, shit they only even took this job to try and prove they were worth something to their parents, to show they were just as good as their brothers....

Running to keep up, already a few steps behind y/n was able to catch up to the rest of the squad.

"Draw your weapons" was ordered after a quick rumble with heard between the bushes. Y/n was fumbling with their bow, proceeding to just brush it off and go for a dagger, removing it from their leg holder. Yet in a flash it seemed something had pulled the weapon away. There y/n watched as the whole team ran, fleeing from the situation, leaving no help or communication with y/n, who out of absolute instant stumble back tripping over a long root, cause them to tumble to the ground, as the hunter was trying to pull themself together getting up to run following their group a lengthy hand was felt grasping their arm , panic set in quickly, now holding no weapons having no way to fight back, all y/n could do was try and run, yet due to the firm grasp it seemed the attempts were absolutely pointless, finally the creature who had a hold on y/n flip them around becoming face-to-face with a vampire...not just a vampire clearly a royal vampire.

"Aren't you a little small to be a hunter Дорогой" the red headed women who stood tall above y/n spoke down to them.

Y/n was in a pickle that was for damn sure, no place to run, the idea that this was the end and that this vile creature who stood before them whom might they add was extremely pretty for being a vampire....well what was y/n to compare it to it's not like they've met any other vampires, the only had any idea about them due to story's which have been told throughout the community....but that's besides the point.

"I am not, I am just as capable to be a hunter as any of those men" every small ounce of braveness was pulled from their body as they stood as tall as they possible could in front of the much larger women.

"Aren't you cute, well I'm sure you are just as strong as those big bad men, but maybe even braver they just took off and left you here for me, isn't that right Дорогой" the soft voice was taunting to the young hunter, yet there was nothing they could do about it, the vampire had moved closer one hand reached under y/n's jaw forcing them to look up at the vampire meeting eye to eye.

Y/n tried to pull away but was to no success, being held in a state with the vampire.

"You smell....devine" Natasha's raspy tone was echoing in y/n's head, yet it was quick when Natasha made a move, pushing her lips into y/n's which when y/n didn't entirely pull away a smirk was stuck to her Crimson lips.

"Don't tell me, you enjoy the big scary vampire kissing your lips? Mmm?" The tall vampire teased get a firm "never"' from the human, but that didn't stop her, moving her kisses lower finally to her delight a strangled moan slipped prompting Natasha to go on, something was drawing her to the human clearly going to keep the small being.

"Y/n tell me are you a virgin?" The supernatural asked stoping the sloppy kissed abruptly to ask, noticing y/n's heart race increase telling they were about to lie

"No, I-I'm not" y/n tried to keep a straight face and seem confident in the lie yet the tell tale signs would clearly give y/n away.

"Would you like to say the truth now? Or will I have to do it for you?" The vampire stated with almost a cold expression, which cause the humans cheeks to rush to a rosey shade, the long skinny hands of Natasha started to rome y/n'a body, slipping down into the waistline of their pants feeling the soft underwear material slightly damp causing the women to let out a small laugh.

"Wow for a human who came to kill me, you seen wildly turned on" the teasing only turned y/n's face an even darker shade of red, while Natasha fingers moved pushing past their panties to run her fingers between their folds, coating her cold long fingers in y/n's warm juices, the action caused a choked moan to slip out from them only leading Natasha to smirk.

"Look at you doing so well for your first Дорогой (darling) you will be such a good pet for me, you'll like the castle, it's so much better than the village you come from" Natasha's words went right past y/n, the new found feeling of pleaser overtook their thought process.

Slowly Natasha kept going enjoying how y/n was reacting, getting them hot and bothered while their cunt was just dripping, easily only one finger slipped into y/n, causing them to Yelp at this brand new feeling

"My oh my y/n tell me doesn't that feel good, letting me play with your virgin cunt, you seemed to be enjoying it" Natasha pushed on thrusting the one finger in and out before adding a second one making y/n back arch

"Oh my god, please please don't...don't stop" y/n pleaded with Natasha the pleasure of being penetrated was mind blowing, y/n didn't have it in them to think logically about the fact a vampire was fingering their pussy, all they could do was melt into her hold.

Natasha speed up the movement of her fingers yet when the feeling of needed to Piss came over them they tried their best to push away from the supernatural.

"N-no please stop...gotta pee" the words made the vampire laugh, she then saw how innocent her pet was.

"Shh no, just let go" Natasha said keeping her voice soft, while her free hand moved from supporting y/n who also was leaning in a tree, to placing pressure on their clit. With all the motion y/n was thrown over the edge with a long moan, y/n's cum flushed onto Natasha fingers, yet the vampire didn't remove herself from their pussy until they had a moment to come down from their high, the vampire held the human up with one arm, removing her other hand from their pants licking her fingers clean before turning back to y/n.

"You'll be such, a good good pet Мой маленький паук (my little spider)

#anyaeras #lgbtqia #marvel #writing #marvel mcu #fanfic #marvel edits #marvel fic #natasha romanoff x reader #mommy natasha #natasha romanov #black widow #marvel smut #lesbian #vampire #vampire Natasha #marvel black widow

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itsabouttimex2 · 3 months

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How would the platonic yandere Demon Bull Family react to a reader who, unlike Redson, did not grow up with a strong connection to the family or love for them? reader can be loyal to them but usually acts indifferently when it comes to "family love" and sometimes refuses to call Princess Iron Fan "mother" and Demon Bull King "father" but instead calling them "king" and "queen" would also be the same thing to Redson, with respect but like the others two doesn't want to call him "brother"

Fiery Reunion: Part One

(Part One) (Part Two)

“This is your father,” Princess Iron Fan says to you, her voice thick with devotion and love. “Restored to us after centuries of oblivion. How long I have waited for this moment…”

That’s right. It has been a long time, hasn’t it? For all your life, your mother and brother have had one single motivation pushing them forward- find a way to save your father.

Technically, you could say that your goal was one and the same. You’ve been helping them all throughout your life, after all. But even though you’ve shared centuries with them, fighting for the very same man…

You just can’t bring yourself to be as passionate about saving him as they are.

“This is your father,” Princess Iron Fan has to say, because you were barely beyond infancy when he rose against Sun Wukong and was struck down and buried under a mountain for his crimes.

You’re sat on the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes. After having stumbled backwards and fallen to the floor in surprise and fear at the sight of him, you now stay there, gaping at the tremendous demon before you.

Your father, the terrifying Demon Bull King casts a hard gaze to your cowering form, raising an eyebrow.

“So the youngest of my children… has grown up. I had assumed the worst when I did not see them at my prison. Tell me, my love- have they become a powerful warrior for the Bull clan?”

He’s talking like you aren’t even here. Maybe that’s to be expected, given that you were barely a toddler when he was imprisoned and sealed away for hundreds of years. It’s not like he’s ever spoken to you.

Maybe it’s fitting punishment for not remembering the man your mother and brother adore. No matter how unreasonable the feeling is, you can’t stop hating yourself for something so far beyond your control.

“My love, Y/N is a skilled alchemist… they’ve proven their worth many times over. I’ve brought them here to restore your broken horn- and the rest of your body, while they’re at it.” She turns to you, her gaze growing determined. “I will have a troop of Bull Clones assigned to your command. Use them to procure whatever you need to create-“

“That’s alright,” you say quite confidently, interrupting her. “I have all I need to restore him to full health. I’ll only need two, to help me with my cauldron.”

The irritation from being interrupted by one of her children quickly dissipates, her creased brow and frown replaced with a satisfied smirk.

“Wonderful,” she breathes out, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

You politely bow to her, then to your father.

“If you would follow me, my king?”

He pauses to raise an eyebrow at how you’ve addressed him, but shrugs it off and walks along after you.

(He’s your father, he wants to say. He didn’t come back after hundreds of years to be addressed so formally/coldly by his own flesh and blood. But he’ll let it slide… you just need some time to adjust, perhaps.)

———————————————————————

“A room dedicated to the alchemical arts, I see… and you’ve quite the collection of rare and valuable specimens. Then you will be able to restore me in short order, I take it?”

You reach out to reposition a small pot of glowing crimson star-shaped flowers, shifting it out of the way and leading your father deeper into your room. Two Bull Clones stand uniformly still against the back wall, ready to assist at a moments notice. Really, you only use them when you need a cauldron continuously stirred or heavy ingredients relocated. If you need petals plucked or seeds stripped, you do that delicate work with your own two hands.

“I have dedicated myself to the herbal arts. With the right supplies, there is little I cannot do, my king.”

“Good. It seems you have grown useful in my absence, little one.”

You briefly stagger at his words, unfamiliar to your ears and so, so very strange to hear.

Promptly you compose yourself and grab a well-worn ladder, leaning it against one of your many shelves. Before you can start to climb it, DBK reaches up to grab the glass canister you need. After lifting it close to his eye for examination, he holds it just out of your reach.

“What do you need lotus seed oil for? How will this restore my body to health?”

(And is it dangerous for you? He might just have to take a look through this room of your and confiscate anything you could hurt yourself with.)

“My king, the oil is merely a catalyst- it will allow my other ingredients to mix together properly without interfering with the alchemical process they’ll undergo.”

He allows you to have the canister, watching as you pour nearly a gallon of the oil into an ancient cauldron, emblazoned with glowing sigils. You keep a firm grip on the delicate glass, holding it firmly and slowly pouring the oil-

Then the door to your room opens with a slam, Red Son’s foot leaving a notable crack running through it.

You drop the canister in shock, flooding the cauldron with far more oil than any recipe would need. Grabbing a clean rag in a huff, you turn and shoot him a displeased look, just in time for to see him lunging for you.

He snags you by the shoulders and shakes you back and forth as he yells, “Have your brains taken a vacation, Y/N?! You aren’t supposed to work alone! You know that you’re not allowed to play with your little cauldron if mother or I aren’t with you!”

You push his hands away, pointing up at your father to prove that you aren’t alone in here, that you aren’t breaking any of the frankly unnecessary rules set that he and your mother have set into place for you.

He takes one look at your father, the goes right back to yelling at you for not telling him you’d be using the cauldron anyways.

(A nostalgic pang resounds in Demon Bull King’s chest as he watches the two of you squabble. Before he had been sealed away, you and your brother had been a child and young teen respectively. He had missed so much…)

When he snaps back to his senses, you are on your knees, carefully ladling the excess oil back into the now slippery glass container you had fished out of the cauldron with a rag. Red Son stands over you, frowning as you do.

“Why don’t you just get a Bull Clone to do this for you, Y/N? Even they could do it more efficiently. And you’d be able to prepare more of the elixir-“

“I hate to be disrespectful, my prin-“

“Brother,” he seethes, dark and low. “I am your brother, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, brother.”

“Now, explain yourself… and do it clearly, little sibling. I don’t have time for any nonsense.”

“The Bull Clones don’t have the precision or gentle touch required to handle my plants and containers. Last time I tried to set them to such a task, I had to relegate them to sweeping up glass instead.”

“Tsk. I’ll make some minute adjustments on two or three of them for you. Perhaps reduce their grip strength and increase their joint dexterity… don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, Y/N.”

Red Son turns and leaves, and to your surprise, your father goes with him, leaving you alone to finish your work.

Just barely, you hear your father’s voice from the hall, low and hushed.

“You seem… to be quite ‘adept’ with your sibling.”

Somehow, you feel that this doesn’t bode well for the future.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Demon Bull King #Demon Bull King #Yandere Princess Iron Fan #Princess Iron Fan #Yandere Red Son #Red Son #Yandere Father #Yandere Mother #Yandere Brother #Edited #Fixed the second to last line to be more in character

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mhsdatgo · 29 days

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Do you think the show is biased against the Greens vs. Team Black? If so, how should the show have demonstrated that both teams are awful, in your opinion?

Hello anon!

I've got a lot to say on this one.

First of all, yes. I totally think that the show had some obvious kind of bias towards the Blacks. Not necessarily with the way the Greens were treated as devils with no likeable qualities except for Alicent (even if there are several instances of them doing so) but more because of the way the Blacks were whitewashed.

Rhaenyra.

Look, you'll never catch me not expressing my contempt for this woman, no matter the fact she was brought up by a man who did nothing but spoil, enable and indulge her in everything and anything she says and does. I can see the path they're taking in the show by adapting her as an irresponsible woman who flees at the minimal inconvenience and cowers to her dad at any minor inconvenience, but literally everything that makes her Rhaenyra Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, is removed.

She just looks like the next girlboss Targ Dragonrider queen after Daenerys. They basically made GOT season 8 and sent show!Rhaenyra as an apology. But in doing so they basically made her... Boring. Her and her children, which I don't love or hate. (The closest one I am to "liking" is Jace, I guess, but the leaks are just making me rethink everything again.)

I would've loved it if they had given us ONE pre-Dance book!Rhaenyra scene that would've made her appear more ruthless than what we have on the show, and not just the time when she offered 10 year old Aemond to be tortured. Make her ask Daemon to go after Vaemond (sorry pookie) like she did in the books, make her feed his corpse to her dragon. Sure that wouldn't have made me change my mind about how much I dislike her bUt it WOULD'VE made me go "damn she stands on business."

I wanted her to act out of grief and insist on going to war when she miscarried Visenya and lost her father, because although I don't think that the Greens did kill that poor little girl (she had dragon features and was likely going to die anyway) I do think that Rhaenyra should've been allowed her pain and the irrational and impulsive thinking that comes with it.

Alicent.

OH BOY.

Where do I even begin with this one?

Olivia Cooke SLAYED. Lemme just start with that. She took the whole cake and ate it too and left no crumbs. The direction they've taken with her is a realistic one, at least for the actions and decisions she's taking. Reckless, for sure. Risky, deathly even. Her fear is realistic, even for someone as Alicent Hightower no matter how much determination had protected her from dread.

What I don't like is the way she was treated as everyone's object and her shutting up about it. From Rhaenyra to Larys, everyone uses her for their own disgusting pleasures or outlet of frustration. And she's made to take it without fighting back even once. The one time she does, bless her, she's treated as a woman who's gone mad.

Now, I would've been fine with her taking all these hits if only they knew how to make Alicent change properly and completely from there. If it was me, the incident at Driftmark would be my start to revenge. No longer would I look at Rhaenyra with hope to reconcile with her. No longer would I bear any more of Viserys' shit when it's clear his first daughter (the image of his first wife) bears way more importance to him than me and all the four kids he forced me to have combined.

They'd have to nightly talk me out of suffocating him with my pillow a minute more for every wince and ache my now eyeless son suffers, for a month straight if not more. I wouldn't eagerly stand by his side and listen to his last words only to mistake them for permission to go along with my plans. I'd stand there passively at best, waiting for him to be done, before leaving the room.

Everything else can just be left the same way it was. Her fear when she realizes the effect Viserys' death has on her and her children is realistic. I'd break down for a moment too. I'd act as soon as I could too. I'd cry tears of relief, dread, grief (depends on how you interpret that scene) too. After letting his stinky ass rot for a fortnight. I would've preferred this to be a "there was a plan, but we weren't ready to act it out" situation more than a "what the fuck is going on" situation.

I'd also slap that "you toil in service of other men" dialogue from Rhaenys right back in her face (sorry grandma) since if we're talking about the show, it's literally the only thing she has done throughout the season.

House Velaryon.

HEAVY on this one. They have been done so wrong on so many levels. Every single one of them.

Laena was made to "pursue" Daemon, she changes from a precious, small and shy little girl to a confident, seductive young woman (teenager for fuck's sake, screw everyone who thought making her change this way would've been good) and later on a side piece, "the one Daemon settles for because he can't have Rhaenyra" even if it was known that she was the only one he was never unfaithful to, "she's made her peace" (WTF???????).

It apparently never hits Corlys that the bitch who he believes has made him childless (I AM TALKING ABOUT DAEMON) deserves no support from him and his house or that Luke should actually become a ward there at Driftmark if he's so adamant on keeping this farce that he's a Velaryon and the next Lord of the Tides.

Vaemond is seen as the odd, evil and power hungry one for pointing out that his house is falling into an OBVIOUS bastard's hands whether this kid likes it or not (even as my support for this claim goes as far as questioning Luke's parentage) and to add insult to injury he's made to say Rhaenyra is a whore, which never happened in the books.

The Silent Five are removed completely, Vaemond's sons as well (@redrosesandcharmingsouls knows I was FROTHING at the mouth waiting for Daemion Velaryon to make an appearance but the motherfuckers couldn't even give me that) so that we don't have any kind of reason to believe an execution so brutal and unjust had any repercussions on the support House Velaryon has on the Blacks overall. They are made into Rhaenyra's cheering squad through and thorough, even if they have every reason to be anything but.

The Laenor situation is actually really fucking funny. They made him leave instead of killing him to not bury the gays and they aren't aware that this has totally fucked everything up. Like thanks for telling me ALL of Rhaenyra's children are bastards. Cool, HOW THE FUCK TO YOU HANDLE SEASMOKE NOW?

Aegon II.

No this isn't an apologist post. I'm actually slithering on the ground on my knees for TGC daily but Aegon is a clusterfuck right now, no matter how you look at it. They tell us he's a psycho drunken rapist and he likes to watch children fighting every Sunday and when you actually see his adult version he's a crying love starved bitch of a man and he winces and frowns when Vaemond's head is cut off.

Instead of taking the throne to protect his children, he takes it because he's forced. And that makes Alicent the villain in everything once again. Now it doesn't matter if you look at the book version or what we see of the show version, everywhere you look this is just out of character.

It's inconsistent. He's made the worst thing ever so people can say "See??? They believe a rapist is better to put to the throne than our girlboss virtuous heir!!!" you either make him a psycho or a touch starved baby, why make both?

So yeah, I think this is all. For now. We'll have to see how this show progresses to see if I change my mind in any way.

Thanks for the ask!!!! ^_^

#hotd #house of the dragon #team green #anti hotd #pro team green #anti team black #anon #anon ask

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thesithdiaries · 2 years

Text

Strong Protector (Harwin Strong imagine)

Pairing: Harwin Strong x female!reader

Requested: Yes

Warnings: angst baby, the setting is from episode 3 to episode 5 so heavy spoilers for the wedding, mentions of skinning animals who am i? ramsay bolton?, mention of injuries due to a mob, jason lannister cause he’s a warning, its not exactly following the chaos, tittie mention, obvious allusions to sex before marriage, there's no vcard to worry about here cause the owner already swiped it, typical westeros wedding violence, lovebirds shenanigans, otto hightower mention, its criston cole pls call the cops

Part 2

Harwin Strong was a protective man. He protected his House, his family but most importantly, he protected his betrothed, Y/N.

They went to the hunt to celebrate Aegon’s second name day. Harwin was outside with other men, skinning some animals they found. Lyonel was inside the tent with Larys, who sat with the ladies since he could not join the hunt, and Y/N, who had not even bothered to socialize with the other women present.

She swiftly moved to a table filled with food. Y/N saw an empty tray tucked away, therefore she fixed two plates with food she knew Harwin liked and one for herself. And she also got cakes and two cups of wine. Nobody was paying attention to this… except the King and the Queen. Viserys was sinking into his cups rather quickly, but the sight of Y/N taking food to share was very amusing to him. Alicent was smiling, sending her a warm smile as if she was supportive of it.

Y/N walked outside, only to be blocked from walking further. “I have never seen you before.” A man commented. His chest plate had a lion. Y/N held back from rolling her eyes at this fool. “My name is Jason Lannister. And you are?”

“My name is Y/N. Excuse me, my lord,” she uttered, moving around him to continue walking.

One of the men elbowed Harwin smirking, “look, your lady.”

Harwin looked up to see his beautiful betrothed. They smiled at each other but hers quickly turned into a scowl when Jason got in front of her again. “Where are you going? All the ladies are inside the tent.” Harwin took a deep breath to calm himself, not turning his attention away. He has never liked the Lannisters.

“My lord, please. I do not wish to speak at the moment,” Y/N begged.

“Where are you even going with that tray? How did the King allow yo”

Harwin was already marching towards them, his face looked murderous. “Is there a problem here?” Y/N took the opportunity to head to the table Harwin was at, setting down the food and looking at them from afar. She did not want to be close if Harwin needed to break some bones.

“No, um, we wer”

“Because I believe the lady said she did not want to speak with you.” Harwin got in his face, making Jason cower. He knew about Breakbones and he knew nobody should be stupid enough to anger the strongest man in the seven kingdoms. “Leave, before I kill you.”

Jason’s eyes widened at such a threat but he quickly turned and went back inside the tent. Regardless of who he was, he knew the King would support the Strong House above anything.

Harwin walked towards Y/N, sitting next to her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, thank you.” Y/N gave him a small peck on his lips, earning some whistles from the men that were around them. “I rather be out here with you, it feels stuffy in the tent.”

“You left Larys by himself?” Harwin laughed.

“I think he will not mind it, he gets to listen to the gossip,” she laughed as well. Harwin gave her another kiss before he started to eat.

King Viserys accepted their betrothal with glee. Lyonel, his Master of Laws, had told him about it. He loved the Strong House, they were honorable and loyal. His Hand, Otto Hightower, was against the couple being at the Keep. He even tried to get the King to exile them under pretenses. Viserys paid no mind to his nonsense, quickly giving the couple a place on the court and a beautiful bedchamber to share.

Regardless of some whispers, Harwin was perfectly content. After his father was anointed as the Hand of the King after Otto was told to leave, everything fell into place.

It was one of those days where they did not have anything to do, besides the wedding festivities at night, meaning they stayed together for most of the day. Y/N was on the bed, enjoying the morning air as Harwin rested on her chest, tracing her skin lightly with his fingers.

Y/N played with his hair, softly brushing through it. “What do you want to do today?” She whispered.

“I want to lay here and have my way with you, all day,” Harwin said, sneaking a little bite on her breast, making Y/N giggle.

“As much as I would love that, we have to show our faces at the wedding. Show our support for Rhaenyra,” Y/N said, making Harwin hum. She was right, they needed to be there.

Without warning, Harwin rolled them around so Y/N was straddling him. His eyes were darkened with lust, his deep breaths letting her know what he was feeling at that moment.

All Y/N could see what Harwin Strong. He leaned forward, finally pressing their lips together. Y/N sighed happily, a warm and inviting feeling spreading through her body as he touched her. She wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him even closer.

Harwin's hands roamed her body, as he softly rolled his hips against hers. Y/N whimpered, which was music to his ears. He rolled them over again so he could be on top. Harwin hovered over her, careful to not press his entire weight on her but Y/N did not care. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, moaning as she welcomed the familiar feeling. Harwin's hands found their hair, gripping it tightly as they kissed.

The kiss became heated, filled with passion and urgency. There was no need to speak, their bodies doing all the talking. The way Harwin's kisses and bites felt on her skin made her toes curl. His strong hands gripped her thighs, growling as he felt the way how his future wife reacted to his touches.

The wedding festivities had started.

All the Houses made their entrances, bowing to their King and future Queen. Even Daemon Targaryen arrived. House Velaryion looked breathtaking. Harwin and Y/N looked at each other when House Lannister walked in, lowering their heads to laugh quietly.

Y/N was amazed by all the food. Regardless of her time at court, she still was not used to seeing so many delicious dishes together. Harwin sat so close to her that it would seem they were sitting on the same chair.

“Is this what you would want for ours?” He whispered in her ear, proceeding to kiss her on her shoulder.

Y/N smiled at him. “Part of me wants something similar but all I care about is being married to you. It does not need to be a big celebration, my love. It could be just the two of us and it be perfect.”

Harwin looked at her in awe, absolutely in love. He moved a stray curl behind her ear. “Is that so?” He cheekily said, kissing her lips. “We can sneak to the gardens with the Priest right now.”

“So silly, my love. Your father would throw a fit if he knew what you are planning and Larys would be upset if he was left out,” Y/N chuckled after she heard a “she is correct” from Larys, who was sitting next to them. Lyonel, even if he was supportive, would be mad if they had a secret wedding and he did not know the secret beforehand. Harwin sneaked a look at his father and smiled.

After they shared some food, Harwin pulled her towards the dance floor. It was an adorable scene. It was mostly dancing for a few seconds and then kissing. Y/N was blushing. Viserys and Lyonel were content, it was a nice match. Alicent, although supportive of the couple, felt a little ping of jealousy in her heart as she saw them have fun.

Harwin and Y/N danced together for some moments, only focusing on each other. As the dance progressed, Harwin danced with Rhaenyra and Y/N with Laenor.

“You look happy,” Rhaenyra commented. “I am glad you are, you both deserve it.”

“Yes, Princess, I am.” Harwin replied, looking at Y/N. “She is amazing.”

“I assume you will return to Harrenhal after you are wed,” Rhaenyra commented, as Harwin chuckled.

“Why, Princess? Are you that eager to get rid of us?”

“Of course not,” she laughed. “I would love it if you stayed here at the Red Keep.”

Rhaenyra also loved the couple. Y/N was a fun girl, often making up lies to get out of her duties, something Rhaenyra appreciated deeply. Additionally, she was also a loyal friend. On the other hand, Harwin was also loyal. And she knew he did not say anything about catching her outside the Keep that night. She was grateful for that.

Harwin went back to sit with Larys, who was very content eating his food and looking at the guests. It was a nice wedding. The decor looked lovely, fit for royalty. Harwin could see Y/N from afar, as she danced with other guests, knowing it was her because of the hair accessory she was using.

It was all well until it took a turn.

Women started to scream as grunts and clashes of metal were heard. A fight in the middle of the wedding? It quickly turned into chaos, with other guests fighting amongst themselves. King Viserys and Lord Corlys were scanning the crowd, looking for their children. “Where's Rhaenyra?” Alicent was moving her head, trying to spot her.

Harwin shot up from his chair, looking for Y/N, he could not see her. After a look from his father, he got into the chaos. It was almost impossible to move, with too many guests pushing and pulling. Harwin did not hesitate. He punched anyone that got in his way. He only hoped Y/N got out of the way before the fight started.

However, that was far from the truth. Y/N was being shoved and hit. It was Ser Criston who started it. Laenor tried to intervene, to help his friend, but Criston punched him, sending him back. Y/N got caught in that, the bottom of her dress ripping. “Laenor!” She yelped, helping him stand up. Y/N was horrified when she heard a bone cracking and a yelp.

Harwin felt that he was not making any progress while moving through the crowd. No matter how many men he punched and pushed, he still could not see his betrothed.

Y/N was accidentally pushed down after two guests started fighting. She quickly stood up, in fear of getting stepped on. “Harwin!” She cried, trying to make her way toward the back of the room. “Harwin!”

“Y/N!” He yelled for her, terrified. Just as he was going to push a knight out of the way, he finally spotted her. “Y/N!” The desperation he was feeling was clouding him, the only thing he wanted to do was get her to safety. Harwin saw a small opening on the side, he grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her towards it.

Once they were away from the mob, they hugged. Y/N was sobbing. Harwin was holding her tightly against his body, a hand caressing her back to try and calm her down. He momentarily pulled away to look at her and the sight alone left him speechless. He could hear gasps coming from the main table. Y/N’s hair was messy, her lip had been split open, the visible parts of her arms were filled with marks, and her dress was ruined.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Harwin cried, hugging her again. “I am so sorry I did not find you sooner.” Y/N did not answer, she only held onto him.

Lyonel gave his son a look as if telling him he could go. The air was tense after the commotion ended and the guest left the room. Joffrey Lonmouth’s body was not there anymore, only the blood was what remained.

Harwin took Y/N to their bedchamber, having to carry her almost halfway because her body was still shaking uncontrollably. A maid was walking out, most likely after preparing the tub for a bath. He sat Y/N down on their bed and kneeled between her legs. “My love? How are you feeling?”

Y/N’s face had streaks of dried tears, cheeks flushed from all the crying. She flashed him a small smile, “better now”.

Harwin was not convinced. He wiped her cheeks with his hand carefully, avoiding getting too close to her cut lip. “I am so so sorry.”

“The chaos was too much. I am n-”

“I should have stayed with you. I hate myself for leaving you alone,” Harwin ranted, standing up and walking around the chamber. “If only I had stayed, you would not be hurt right now.”

“Harwin, my love, y-”

“I did not protect you!” He yelled, covering his face with his hands. Y/N quickly got up and removed his hands from his face.

“This was not your fault. I understand how you feel but you cannot blame yourself for all that happened. How were you supposed to know that Ser Criston was going to murder that man?” Y/N, caressed his cheek, him leaning on her warm hand. “I am not mad at you, I am happy. You still found me and got me out.”

“I could have done more, my love.” Harwin sighed, grabbing the hand that was touching his face and kissing it.

“Enough of that. Come on, we should bathe together. I am sure the water is how we like it.” Y/N grabbed Harwin’s hand, pulling him towards the other room.

Part 2

taglist, half of these blogs werent showing up so if you see this and one of them is yours, please send me a message so i can fix it:

@Filiandkili , @dkathl ; @Daemonloversblog ; @mypatrochilles , @beefbaby25 ; @sweetybuzz25 ; @Fin-never ; @asexualaromosafezone ; @nerdy4itall ; @yelchinweasleylothbrok ; @Juless_world ; @thatgaytevinter ; @bluebear142077 ; @derzauberermitlilabademantel ; @kaitieskidmore1 ; @chevelledahuman ; @rozendiors @daydreamin1220

#hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #harwin strong imagine #harwin strong x reader

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sunnycanvas · 6 months

Note

Could you make one where fem! was blackmailed to leave Baldwin?

"Please you can't do this to me, I love him so much" (Y/N) said with tears streaming down her eyes. The Byzantine princess scoffed annoyed and grabbed (Y/N)'s throat. (Y/N) gasped in fear and the Byzantine princess smirked sadistically. "Say one more word and you will be begging for air instead". Angry (Y/N) tried to claw her hands out.

"Oh no! Don't even try to think about it". "You will be in more trouble" "After all you are no longer queen" Fearful (Y/N) handed her annulment papers (Y/N) couldn't help but think about events while back she said to her husband king Baldwin IV of Jerusalem

"What do you mean you have fallen in love with another man" Baldwin IV yelled in anger. (Y/N) let out frustrated sigh and said "Just what you heard". Baldwin IV got up so fast from his chair that his chair fell and table moved. (Y/N) backed up against the wall in fear. With Baldwin IV cowering her. (Y/N) gulped in fear staring wide eyed to her husband who said "Moment a man lust after some one else in heart that moment itself they have committed adultery" . (Y/N) retorated "You can't control whom you fall in love with". (Y/N) looked him strongly in eyes daring him to challenge her. (Y/N) was confused when she heard him laughing "You think a Leper like me, who was fortunate enough to marry you a commoner because of love would simply divorce you. "(Y/N), you are lying. I can tell" (Y/N) didn't let disappointment noticable in face and scoffed and said "Suite yourself". As (Y/N) left the hall. (Y/N) was grabbed by a noble man who dragged her to isolated room. "Did you convince him for an annulment". (Y/N) couldn't help the tears streaming down her eyes. That man was Byzantine ambassador whom she recognised had originally orchestrated the plan. The noble man let out frustrated sigh and warned her again "This alliance is important for both empires" "A useless commoner like you will ruin everything" "Do us all a favour and leave him, or else we will kill that little boy in the palace with whom you have grown attached to". "Countess Agnes was smart to accept annulment unlike you " (Y/N) red faced with trembling voice cried out in anger "I am trying my best" "You don't understand how difficult it is for me as well". The noble man covered her mouth with his hand and warned her "Don't you dare yell or else consequences will be severe". Their conversation with a knock on the door. Both of them separated from each other. The noble gave a glare to (Y/N) one last time before saying "Come in". The maid hesitantly entered the room and could sence the tension in the air. She nervously looked at (Y/N) and said "Your Grace, his majesty has asked for your presence in hall".

Your thoughts were interrupted and brought back to present. When you heard the sound of glass and wine. You recalled the next thing you knew that before entering the hall and metting the king and high court of Jerusalem the noble man asked to you meet the princess. Byzantine princess who was drinking wine smiled in victory and said "I will finally get to marry a king and get to be queen of Jerusalem". "Don't worry I will ensure to give you place as a maid in palace, I am sure your ex husband would agree as well me". The Byzantine princess smiled as she watched your face flush in embarrassment

Just then then the door was opened with loud thud.

"Who the hell dares to interru-Oh your majesty". The princess quickly composed herself and stood gracefully. You watched in amazement how quickly her character changed. "Nobody would believe that she is so cruel". You thought sadly. Baldwin IV was quick to recognise your change in mood. He quickly addressed the princess "You are under arrest for threatening and blackmailing the queen". The princess looked at Baldwin IV in shock. Before she could defend herself. The king presented beaten up noble man and continued his statement from before "With your ambassador". The princess shed crocodile tears and pleaded her innocence. Baldwin IV not hearing her cries signalled her to stop

Baldwin IV continued saying "I knew my wife appeared to be distressed by quite some time" "So I asked my spies to follow her". "When she said that she fell in love with someone else I knew for sure that she was being threatened and I secretly followed her as well". "I hope God forgives you because I sure won't for how you treated my wife". "We have enough evidence to convict you" The princess was forcefully dragged away shouted "You won't get away with this, my relative Emperor manuel Ī will ensure that". King Baldwin IV calmly replied as he watched the princess and the noble man being dragged away. "We have enough allies to defend ourselves". Baldwin IV soon turned his attention to (Y/N) who refused to meet his gaze. Baldwin IV slowly approached her. He gently put his hand on her shoulder and said "As much I am angry with you, I am willing to forgive you since I knew you were scared but next time if someone threatens you please let me know about it first". (Y/N) finally turned her gaze to her husband and nodded shyly before both of them embraced each other. Finally happy that they are together again

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven headcanons #king baldwin iv

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thornybubbles · 8 months

Text

Forever My Queen (Yandere Diavolo x Reader)

**Note: This is the first story in a collection of stories based on songs. All of the songs used as inspiration have lyrics that sound a bit “yandere-ish” to me. Each song was paired with a character that I personally think it suits the best.**

**Note 2: Features a female reader. Diavolo may seem a bit out of character here, but I figure that by this point, after having gone through the death loop for so long, his already unstable mind has snapped completely. So have fun with that, Reader. Be warned that I haven’t proofread this so it may contain mistakes. I’ll go back over this and fix any mistakes I find later. In the meantime I’ll go back to working on “Kinder Than Love”.

WARNING: Mentions of suicide, death, and other dark themes. Read at your own discretion. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you choose to read.

Inspiration: “Forever My Queen” by Pentagram

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How much longer would he have to endure this? How many times would he have to endure the agony of death?

Over and over and over again…

Would he ever be allowed to die and just stay dead?!

Diavolo’s wild, green eyes darted around, making note of every little thing that could possibly kill him. He deemed it all dangerous. After all the times he died, he learned a very important lesson:

Death could come at any time, from anywhere, from anyone or anything.

From being stabbed, burned, shot, poisoned, strangled, electrocuted, drowned, starved, crushed, chopped to pieces, eaten alive, torn in half, beaten to death, he’d experienced nearly every way a human being could die. He couldn’t take it anymore.

How would it happen this time?

Would it be slow and agonizing or quick and painless?

He stared about, cringing in on himself and trembling. It had already been about ten minutes and he was still breathing. It offered him no comfort. He knew it was only a matter of time before the end came. Then he would end up somewhere else and die again… and again… and again…

“Please…” his voice came out in a trembling whisper.

“Please!”

A few people walking down the sidewalk glanced in his direction, shook their heads at the obvious madman, and kept walking.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE! GET IT OVER WITH! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” he screamed, glaring at the people that turned to give him strange looks.

How did the saying go? “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Diavolo, the man that had once held an entire country in the palm of his hand had been reduced to a cowering, trembling, paranoid lunatic that screamed obscenities in the streets while people looked on in shock, concern, and occasional amusement.

The King was king no more.

He had nothing.

He was nothing.

His subjects had all turned against him. His kingdom had been stolen from him. He was exiled into a never ending loop of death, defeated by a mere child. King Crimson was gone. Dear Doppio, his companion soul, was dead. And now, the only thing he had to look forward to was death.

He fell to his knees and tried to keep from bursting into tears like a pathetic child. Most of the people that had been distracted by his little outburst had already walked away, some more hurried than others, but all wanting nothing more than to be as far away from Diavolo as possible. He could keel over right there in front of all those people and none of them would care. They would just step over his corpse as if he were just a pile of trash. No one cared what happened to him.

He had nothing at all to live for.

Nothing to live for…

Diavolo chuckled at the realization. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It all made sense now. It was the one death he hadn’t experienced yet!

Suicide.

He was supposed to kill himself this time.

He couldn’t help but laugh, elated at the idea. He could resist of course, but he knew that the death loop would increase his despair until he finally gave up and ended himself. But he wouldn’t resist. No. He wanted to die this time. And he would enjoy it, too. It would be the only time that the death loop allowed him to choose the nature of his elimination. What would he choose? He wanted so badly to savor his brief moment of control, but he felt that the death loop would grow impatient if he didn’t act soon. So he would have to work with what was around him. He looked around his immediate area hoping to find something that could end his life in an at least tolerable way. Eventually he lifted his gaze to the rooftop of a nearby apartment building. Why not go with the old standard? He would climb to the roof of that building and jump to his death.

Diavolo entered the building, feeling something akin to peacefulness in his soul. He didn’t know what future horrors the death loop would bestow upon him, so he would relish this single moment of mercy. He decided to take the stairs, forgoing the elevator completely. He just wanted to enjoy the moment as this had been the longest he’d ever been allowed to stay alive. He could safely say that this would be his favorite death.

The door to the rooftop was thankfully unlocked. He opened it and walked out into the late afternoon glow. The air was so clear up there and Diavolo took a moment to breathe it all in. He walked up to the edge of the roof and stared down at the city. It gave him a great sense of tranquility standing there, looking at the skyline and the setting sun. He had no idea where he was, but for a moment, he imagined that this city was his kingdom and he had just climbed up to the roof of his sprawling villa to survey his domain.

Just like old times.

The feelings of despair hit him hard then and he knew it was time. He looked back down at the streets below and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be the first time he fell to his death. He’d done it at least five times before. He knew it would hurt, it would be extremely painful, having nearly every bone in your body crushed by the force of gravity and your flesh splitting open as your insides spilled out all over the pavement would always be excruciating, but at the very least it would only last for a moment. Painful but quick. Diavolo supposed he’d take that over slow and agonizing. He held his arms out wide and started to let himself fall forward.

Something grabbed a hold of the back of the mesh shirt he wore and yanked him back onto the roof. He spun around and locked eyes with you.

--------

You had come up to the roof to watch the sunset and have a little smoke. You didn’t smoke often, but sometimes the events of the day wore you down and having a little nicotine in your system helped you deal with it. You had just finished your cigarette when the door to the roof was suddenly thrown open, startling you. A man dressed like a mannequin in the window of a Hot Topic shuffled out onto the roof with a spaced out look on his face. You weren’t sure but, he might’ve been under the influence of something with the way he was acting. He lumbered past you as if he hadn’t even seen you. You watched, with growing concern, as he made his way to the edge of the roof. He stood there staring out at the horizon before throwing his hands out and leaning forward.

SHIT!

You had a terrible feeling that he was going to jump the moment you saw him heading for the edge of the roof. You moved with speed that you didn’t know you possessed and grabbed a fistful of the netting on the back of his “shirt”, if you could even call it that, and yanked him backwards. He almost fell backwards on top of you before pulling himself out of your grip and turning his manic green eyes on you. He seemed shocked, confused, and maybe a little bit angry.

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU STOP ME?!”

Okay, maybe very angry.

You didn’t know how to answer him.

“I-I just… you were going to…” was all you could say.

“What business is it of yours?” he asked, voice dropped to a quieter, but just as threatening growl. “What compelled you to interfere?!”

Again, you didn’t know how to answer. Frankly you thought it was obvious.

“I guess… I just didn’t want you to jump.” you said, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

The man sneered, painted lips pulling away from his teeth.

“You shouldn’t have stopped me! I was meant to die here! I was….”

He trailed off and a look of stunned realization came over him. His mouth dropped open and he stared at you as if you just gave him the answers to all of life’s problems.

-----

The gears in Diavolo’s head were turning. Something had changed. He could feel it. He felt it the moment he felt you grab him and yank him back before he could let himself fall to his predestined death. All throughout the death loop, not once had anyone bothered to come to his rescue. You did. Where had you even come from? He hadn’t seen you at all when he walked onto the roof. There was a moment where the paranoia rose within him again and he thought that maybe you were meant to be his death, but why would you save him only to kill him a moment later? At the very least, he could trust his deaths to make sense. The paranoia within him faded when he looked at you. No. You wouldn’t hurt him. You weren’t the type. He knew full well what the look of murderous intent looked like in a person’s eyes. The only thing he saw in your eyes was confusion, discomfort, and a little bit of fear.

He felt as if a chain around his neck had been broken. Gone was the ever present atmosphere of impending doom.

It was over.

He was free.

Somehow, when you pulled him back onto the roof, you managed to pull him out of the death loop as well.

Something stirred within him and he absently placed a hand over his chest. That presence that had always been with him since his birth had returned. Doppio. His dear Doppio was a part of him again, he could feel it! Not only that…

He stood up to his full height and took a few steps back.

“King Crimson!” he shouted, causing you even more confusion.

His ever grimacing Stand appeared beside him, looking as if he had never been lost. King Crimson cast one sideways glance in your direction before Diavolo mentally dismissed him.

He turned back to you.

“You fixed it.” he said, sounding completely wonderstruck. “I don’t know how, but you fixed it. You gave everything back to me!”

Well, almost everything. He was still a king without a kingdom, but now that he had Doppio and King Crimson back, it was a problem he could easily deal with.

“Um, sir…”

Your timid voice interrupted his thoughts. His crazed eyes met yours and you took a step back. No, he wasn’t high, but he was very clearly mentally ill or at the very least mentally distressed.

“...is there someone that I can call for you?”

He answered you by suddenly sweeping you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours in a much too passionate kiss to be shared between strangers. You tried to pry yourself from his hold but his grip was like iron. He deepened the kiss in a way that had you both panicking and swooning at the same time. You didn’t know who this guy was, but he kissed like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You were getting dizzy and your vision was filling up with black splotches. You were on the verge of passing out when he finally pried his lips away from yours and set you back on your feet.

You lost your balance instantly, and fell over on your rear. Your head was spinning and you took a moment to catch your breath. You could feel the heat in your face and you were certain that it was roughly the color of a tomato. Your dazzled mind was at war with itself. One part of your mind was screaming that you needed to pick yourself off the ground and get the hell out of there before that psycho did something worse to you, while the other side of your mind was nervously dismissing the whole thing, saying that he was just showing his gratitude at you saving his life. Once your head began to clear, you scooted backwards on your ass until you felt you were out of his immediate reach. You weren’t going to let him touch you again.

“I will repay you. You have my word on that. I know you don’t fully understand what you’ve done for me today, but I will repay you for it.” he said.

He turned away from you, his eyes filled with a frightening kind of determination, and left the rooftop looking like a man with a mission.

You lay there on the roof, desperately trying to comprehend what just happened to you.

-----

Several months later…

You shook your head as you read the morning news.

“Man, this city’s gone to shit.” you murmured and took a sip of your coffee.

Almost overnight, your city’s crime rate skyrocketed. Murders, assaults, beatings, robberies, gang wars… there didn’t seem to be any end to it. Sure all of that stuff existed before, but not to the extreme level that it had reached in only a few months time. Something was definitely going on with the local criminal organizations and you wanted NO part of it. You glanced over at the pile of real estate brochures that rested on the kitchen counter. You had already been wanting to move for a while now, and the way things were going, you may have to move for your own safety. Young woman living alone? Yeah, you were a prime target. Luckily your apartment building was the only one in the neighborhood that hadn’t been broken into yet. Keyword being “yet”. It was only a matter of time. If there was ever a time to move out to the country, now was it. You quite frankly hated living in the city anyway. It was too noisy, too hectic, and lately, too dangerous.

A crashing sound caused you to look up from your paper. That came from just outside your door. You set the paper aside and cautiously approached the door. You reached out and put one ready hand on the handle of the baseball bat you kept next to the door and looked through the peephole. You didn’t see anything right away so you slowly opened the door. Sprawled on the floor was a little guy with pink hair who was pinned underneath a rather heavy looking box. He struggled to push the box off of himself but it wouldn’t budge. You let go of the baseball bat and threw the door open.

“Need some help?” you asked, stepping out into the hallway.

The little guy looked over at you and immediately blushed with embarrassment.

“N-no! I’m okay!” he said, rather unconvincingly. “I can handle it.”

He grunted as he tried to push the box off of himself again. It just wouldn’t budge no matter what he did. He looked back over to you, giving you a sheepish grin.

“Uh, actually… I could probably use a little bit of help… if you don’t mind…”

You couldn’t help but smile. Whoever he was, he was oddly charming. He seemed a little dense though, but hey, nobody’s perfect. You went over and knelt down next to where he lay. You pushed the box off of him and he sat up, sighing with relief.

“Thanks!” he said.

He got to his feet and looked up at you. His face flushed again, and he looked around himself, seemingly trying to avoid looking directly at your face.

Aw, he’s shy! You thought.

“I guess I overestimated my own strength…” he said and chuckled nervously.

You glanced over at all the other boxes sitting just outside of the open door to an apartment room.

“Guess this means you’re my new neighbor, huh?” you observed.

“Yep!” he said with a nod.

Getting over his shyness a bit, he offered a hand for you to shake. You smiled and shook his hand. His grip on your hand seemed to linger slightly longer than necessary before he finally let go.

“My name’s Doppio. Vinegar Doppio.” He said.

-----

Diavolo was overjoyed to have both his Stand and his second soul back. Not only that but he was slowly rebuilding his empire. The best part of it all was that he was no longer stuck in that infernal death loop.

He had you to thank for that.

And thank you he would.

He already made sure that you were the most protected being in the entire city. All of those under his rule knew that you were off limits. Your apartment was a safe zone and any of his underlings that passed it by wouldn’t even look at the building for fear of his wrath. Only one upstart thief thought that he would try his luck and attempt to break into your apartment. Doppio, who had been observing from the building across the street, quickly put a stop to it. Diavolo allowed his other half to deal with the disobedient worm however he desired. His dear Doppio was very thorough in his punishment. The thief's brutalized body was hung by its entrails from the ceiling of the local thieves' den. The message was very clear. Any slight towards you would be met with swift and horrific punishment. There would be no forgiveness, no chance at redemption, and NO MERCY.

Diavolo didn’t know what strange parallel world the death loop had taken him to, but what he did know is that you were destined to rule it alongside him. You hadn’t just saved his life that day you kept him from jumping from the roof, you gave him back everything that had been taken from him. You were special to him. You were clearly meant to be his. His Queen. With you by his side, he would bring this new world to its knees.

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writercole · 1 year

Text

A Guardian Angel and Her Knight

Summary: Jake finally meets his match.

Words: 3700ish

Warnings: Fights, blood, unknown collapse (not an MC), toxic masculinity, Jake to the rescue

Credits: I did it all, unbeta’d.

A/N: Happy 2023, guys. We did it. We lived another effing year. We outlived the queen. Maybe we’ll be fortunate enough to outlive the king. And the human cheeto. ANYWAY - here’s the first fic of the year. It’s a 5 + 1 for @resanoona ’s challenge. Five times she shot Jake down and one time she didn’t.

The new batch of recruits were a rowdy bunch, always looking to prove their worth. Penny started to have so many bar fights and injuries that she hired an EMT on the weekends. She knew her Dagger kids would handle the security part of it if she needed. And she always threw a drink or two on the house for their troubles.

Tonight was the first night the EMT was on duty, sitting at the bar quietly sipping a soda between conversations with Penny.

“I said, leave me alone,” a female voice carried over the noise.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” a male voice replied.

Penny raised her hand to the aviators hanging out in the corner and signaled for her EMT to be ready.

“Hey, man, time to go,” a blond man said as he approached the drunken harasser, putting a hand on his shoulder to make sure he was understood.

“I ain’t done,” the drunk replied, shoving the hand off of his shoulder and turning back to the woman who was cowering away from him. “Why do you have to be such a bitch?” he growled.

“Coyote,” the blond called, his demeanor immediately shifting to a more defensive stance.

“On it,” his friend nodded and grabbed the drunk’s wrist. “I believe the lady doesn’t want to talk right now.”

The drunk tried to lift his arm, held firmly down by the bigger man’s grip. Instead of relenting, the drunk threw his other elbow back, catching the blond off guard, smashing into his nose.

“Seresin, you good?” the one called Coyote asked as his friend pinched his nose and blinked rapidly.

“Oh, I’m good, Machado,” he sneered as he stared at the drunk. “I’m very good.”

Without warning, Seresin spun the drunk around, throwing two jabs to his nose before landing a right hook to his jaw, the drunk falling slack against Coyote.

“Coyote, Hangman,” Penny yelled across the crowd that had gathered. The men looked up and she pointed outside and then at an empty pair of seats at the bar.

They nodded in understanding and tossed the man out the front door, sliding into the two seats with fresh beers, not noticing the medical bag next to them.

“Okay Coyote, any injuries?” they heard from the side. Both men turned their heads to see a woman in an SDFD EMT tee shirt opening a bag of gloves.

“He didn’t hit me at all but he must have been contagious because I swear I’m looking at an angel right now,” Coyote drawled, sipping from his beer as he eyed her.

“Easy, sailor,” she chuckled.

“Oh no, sweetheart, I’m not a sailor,” he grinned, a million dollar smile that would have made her melt if she weren’t so focused on her job. “I’m a pilot. But you can just call me Javy.”

“Well, Javy, since you’re okay, can I take a look at your partner in crime?”

Javy turned to look at his friend and swore under his breath. He had a trickle of blood dripping from his lip and bruising forming around the bridge of his nose. Javy stepped behind his friend, letting the new EMT do her job.

“Alright, flyboy,” she smirked as she stepped in front of the blond, “tell me if anything hurts besides your nose.”

“It’s a little hard to breathe,” he replied, his eyes dancing across her face as she cleaned up the blood on his lip.

“Did he catch you anywhere on your chest or throat? Any history of heart problems, anxiety, panic attacks?”

“No, just my nose,” he denied, a smirk etched on his lips matching hers. “It’s only when I look at you that I can’t breathe.”

She rolled her eyes and pinched the cartilage between the bottom lashes of his eyes, eliciting a groan that made his smirk drop.

“Well, it’s not broken. Probably be sore and bruised for a couple of days. Just ice it and you’ll be fine, flyboy.”

“If you’re going to call me a name, call me Hangman.”

“Hangman,” he corrected as she turned to pack away her bag.

“Excuse me?”

“Your parents must have wanted you to go into executions. I think I’ll pass, thanks though,” she shrugged as she shifted her bag to the stool.

“Seresin, stop harassing my EMT,” Penny demanded as she set a round of beers in front of them. “On the house if you keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes ma’am,” Hangman nodded, Javy agreeing, both of them picking up their drinks.

“Stay out of trouble, boys,” the EMT called as they turned to walk away.

“Aren’t you going to tell us your name, angel?” Javy flirted, stopping a few steps from their normal position at the pool tables.

“Not tonight.”

“So you really didn’t tell them your name?” Dawson asked her partner as they pulled up to the scene of a call.

“No!” her partner laughed, “they insisted on calling me ‘angel’ for the rest of the weekend, too.”

They were laughing as they pulled their bags out of the ambulance, heading towards the flashing red and blue lights of the police cars.

“Well if it isn’t my healer,” a voice drawled from next to the cop car.

The two women paused and looked over, finding a blond man leaning against the unit, smirking.

“Friend of yours?” Dawson teased with a nudge.

“Something like that,” she chuckled. “Executioner, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“That’s Hangman, darlin,” he corrected, grimacing when he tried to flash his award-winning smile.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she flirted, batting her eyelashes at him. “Can I take him, officer?”

“Yeah, I’m done for now,” the officer acknowledged. “Stay available, sir.”

“Thanks. Alright, Executioner. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“If you won’t call me Hangman, how about Jake?” he offered as he stood.

“Nah, I like Executioner,” she smirked, walking towards the ambulance, ignoring the feeling of eyes on her, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at the knowledge that it was her partner watching closely. “Sit. Lemme look,” she sighed, gesturing to the space on the bumper.

As he sat, she maneuvered between his knees, tipping his head backwards to get a good view of the wounds on his face.

“Are you going to tell me your name tonight?” he asked while she cleaned the blood from his cheek, hissing when she passed over an open cut.

“That depends,” she replied, her gaze unwavering from her task, “why do you want to know so bad?”

“I need to know what I’m saving your number under when you give it to me.” The uninjured corner of his mouth quirked up as he awaited her response.

She rolled her eyes and swiped a fresh alcohol pad across his split lip, grinning in the pained groan she received until she felt his hands tighten on her hips.

“Easy with that,” he sassed, “I’m an injured knight.”

“Is that how you got beat up once again? Being a knight for another distressed damsel?” she asked, a light smile upon her face.

“Mugger,” he answered simply, his fingertips digging into her hips once again at the stinging burn of an alcohol pad.

“And yet here you are, no better than he, holding onto my hips for dear life,” she bit back, her eyebrows quirked at his confidence.

“I’m sorry, is this distracting you?” he teased, squeezing once more.

“Not as much as the bravery you’re showing by touching a woman without her permission in front of two police officers,” she shrugged briefly, eyeing him curiously as she awaited his next move.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cross a line or something. It was just a reflex,” he rushed out, letting his hands drop to his sides again.

“Well, since you did stop a mugging, I can let it go this time. You’re all done,” she told him as she stepped out of his space.

“I’m done? No stitches, no hospital?”

“No stitches, no hospital,” she repeated as she cleaned up her supplies. “Stay out of trouble, Executioner.”

“Correcting you again would do nothing, right?” he deadpanned, a mischievous twinkle making his tired eyes a little brighter.

“Not tonight,” she grinned before shutting the back doors of the ambulance and climbing in the passenger seat.

Dawson eyed her curiously, a smirk playing on her lips. “He was hot, girl.”

“Mhmm” was the only reply she got.

After a grueling 48 hour shift and very little sleep, she found herself leaning on the bar, fighting to keep her eyes open. The Hard Deck was quiet for a change, just a few sailors and pilots relaxing. She was grateful for the break but she also kind of wanted some excitement, something to keep her awake for the next few hours.

Her eyes had drifted closed during the silent moment, popping open when someone cleared their throat next to her.

“I don’t think you should be sleeping on the job, darlin. What if someone passes out.”

She sighed as she sat up straight, finding the annoying blond pilot that somehow ended up in the same place that she was. “It has been a long week, Executioner,” she groaned, “I’m too tired for your shit.”

“I could wake you up. Got a fool-proof method right here,” he smirked, gesturing to his crotch.

The sound of a bell ringing saved her from answering and made Jake drop his head, fully aware that Penny had heard him.

“Seresin, I told you to leave my EMT alone,” chastised Penny. “Maybe buying a round will remind you how to speak to a lady, too.”

“Sorry, Penny,” he mumbled, his cheeks and ears bright red. “I’ll, uh, I’m just going…good night.”

It took everything she had to keep her composure.

She had finally gotten some rest before a shift at the bar and was happily chatting with Penny when a ruckus from the pool tables drew their attention. They both looked up in time to see Jake push Phoenix out of he way and swing at a man at least six inches taller than him. The man swung back and then swept Jake’s feet from under him.

“Shit!” they both yelled as they scrambled to the fight.

Jake had fallen backwards and hit his head on the edge of a table, collapsing in a heap on the wooden floor. Phoenix and Bob were crouched next to him while Payback, Javy, and Mickey strained to hold the man back.

“Bob, I need you to get some ice and a cold rag,” she instructed, “and Natasha, please go to my car and get the duffel out of the back seat. It’s unlocked.”

“I saw him fall backwards,” Javy explained as he struggled against the guy he was holding. “I think he hit the back of his head.”

“Thanks, Javy,” she called over her shoulder as she checked the back of Jake’s head. She swore when her fingers found a wet spot behind his ear, pulling it back to see blood on her fingertips. Phoenix dropped the duffel next to her as Bob arrived with the ice and rag.

Jake started to stir as she put her gloves on, breathing a sigh of relief when his eyes focused on her.

“What happened?” he muttered as he tried to sit up, stopping when she laid her hand on his chest.

“Guy grabbed my ass and wouldn’t back off,” Natasha explained, “you squared up and got swept into a table.”

“And you need to relax until I make sure you don’t have a concussion, Jake.”

“You called me Jake,” he noted with a soft smile.

“I did,” she confirmed as she checked his pupil reactivity. “Do you know what I usually call you?”

“Executioner,” he answered with a soft sigh. “Because it’s synonymous with Hangman. You said my parents must’ve hated me.”

“I did,” she chuckled.

“And you still haven’t told me your name. I guess I’m going to have to call you my guardian angel,” he smirked.

“Okay, Executioner. That’s enough. Do you think you can sit up?”

Jake slowly rose to a seated position, the crowd around him clapping as he stood, bracing himself on Bob’s shoulder. He swayed a bit and reached out to stabilize with the back of a chair.

“Seresin, you alright?” Bob asked.

“Yeah,” Jake replied, “yeah, a little dizzy.”

“You also have a cut I need to check. Penny’s office.” She grabbed her duffel and followed behind Bob and Jake.

He was silent as she bandaged the cut, almost deep enough to need a stitch. His eyes were focused on the mirror reflecting her working. He made the decision that he had been pushing too hard and that he’d back off, letting her do her job in peace and not try to get the attention of someone who was uninterested.

“Okay, just take it easy until tomorrow and you should be fine,” she chirped, taking her gloves off and collecting her supplies.

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbled. “Listen, I know I can come on a bit strong sometimes and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“While I agree with you coming on a little strong, I was far from uncomfortable. Hell, you weren’t the worst guy I’ve had this year, much less ever.”

“Still, my momma would be appalled. She raised me better than that,” Jake admitted, ducking his head.

“Your momma?” she repeated, turning around with a smirk. “Are you a good ol’ country boy, Jake?”

He chuckled at her teasing, raising his gaze to her, “yes ma’am. Texas born and bred.”

“A true southern gentleman,” she smiled softly. “I’ll tell you what, Jake. I’ll forget all about the past if you promise to stop getting into trouble.”

He returned her smile, dimples popping and eyes crinkling. “Deal. But I’m still calling you my guardian angel.”

“Or you can call me by name.”

Jake was so surprised that he didn’t hear the first time she told him, and the second time, he swore her name was perfect. A perfect name for an angel.

“Possible heart attack,” Dawson relayed as she and her partner navigated the restaurant, heading towards the crowd gathered around.

“At least you aren’t my guardian angel tonight,” Jake smirked from the floor when the EMTs reached the center of the chaos.

“Jake, what happened?” she asked, kneeling next to the man who had become a friend.

“He collapsed on the floor when he was on his way back from the restroom. I started compressions and my date called 911,” he explained as he backed away, letting the paramedics take their spots.

“No medical bracelet, erratic pulse. Dawson, get the defib ready. Something feels wrong,” she detailed to her partner.

They got the man loaded up quickly. When she turned around after slamming the door shut, she was met with Jake standing with his hands in his pockets and a redhead looking on with arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face.

“Is, uh, is he gonna be okay?” Jake questioned as his gaze wandered to the ambulance doors.

“I don’t know. Something feels weird about this case,” she answered, glancing over Jake’s shoulder. “You should go. Jessica Rabbit looks pissed.”

She turned and climbed into the passenger seat, signaling for Dawson to go, leaving Jake standing in the parking lot with a suspicious and angry date.

Jake was acutely aware of the presence of the woman he called his guardian angel. She must have been off duty because she was sitting with another woman, one he recognized as her ambulance partner, and having a beer. The two of them were talking and laughing, occasionally including Penny in their conversations.

He tried to keep his distance, to forget about her being there and enjoy the night with his friends but his eyes wandered over to her every few minutes. He was aware of the fact that she had worked her way under his skin effortlessly, embedding herself in his thoughts. He also knew that while they were friendly, she really hadn’t shown much interest in him.

Jake glanced up from his game of pool to see Dawson sitting by herself, deep in conversation with Penny. He scanned the bar, not finding the woman he was searching for among the crowd. Before he could jump to any conclusions, he heard his name being called.

“Jake!” Nat yelled from across the pool table, pointing behind him.

He spun around to find his friend maneuvering through the bar, a frazzled look on her face and a man on her heels.

“Phoenix, get Penny,” he demanded as he set down his pool stick and marched towards them.

“I said I’m not interested,” he heard her say.

“Oh come on, sweetheart. You know you want me,” her pursuer sneered.

“I said -”

“There you are, angel,” Jake interrupted, a megawatt smile gracing his lips. “Was starting to wonder where you had disappeared to.”

A look of relief flooded her features as she spied Jake walking through the tables towards her. She slipped her arms around him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. A shock shot through her lips the moment they met his, surprising her to her core.

Jake was unfazed, his arm wrapping around her as he played along.

“My bad, man,” the pursuer said, his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

“She shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend. She said she wasn’t interested. You should have taken the hint,” Jake snarled.

The sound of a bell ringing echoed through the busy bar followed by loud cheers. Jake kept his eyes on the man, a smug smirk fixed on his lips while his arm tightened protectively around her waist, keeping her back towards the man as Omaha and Harvard escorted him out.

“You okay?” Jake asked as he pulled back, his gentle gaze searching her face for any indication that she was hurt.

“Yeah, yeah I’m -” she sighed, “I’m good.”

“Let me know if you need me again tonight,” he told her, releasing her from his grasp.

“Actually, Jake, could we, maybe…talk? Outside?”

“Sure. Anything for my guardian angel.” He offered his arm to her and led her to the back porch.

“About that kiss,” she started, halting when Jake held up his hand.

“Trust me, darlin, there’s nothing to apologize for or feel awkward about,” he assured her.

“Even if I want to do it again?”

Jake’s jaw dropped and his hand fell back to his side. “I’m sorry, angel, you’re going to have to repeat that.”

“I know I’ve spent the last few weeks turning you down. I know it’s crazy. But you really do seem like a great, honest guy and when I kissed you,” she rambled, pausing to suck in a deep breath, “I felt something. And it could be nothing -”

She was cut off by Jake’s lips pressing against hers, his hands cupping her face. His lips moved against hers and her eyes fluttered shut, sighing contentedly when his tongue swept over her bottom lip.

He pulled back slowly, leaving his hands holding her face. Their lips were centimeters apart, shallow breaths mingling in the restricted space between his wrists. Jake’s eyes stayed shut for several seconds, savoring the moment.

“Wow,” he whispered as he opened his eyes, watching her lashes flutter.

“I -” she started, her voice barely audible as she searched the eyes of the man who, moments ago, became her personal knight in shining armor.

“So does this mean you’re giving me a chance?” His signature smirk was back on his lips as he let his hands drop.

“That depends,” she replied, looking up at him doe-eyed and fluttering her lashes, “am I giving my knight in shining armor Jake a chance or am I giving the royal pain in my ass Executioner a chance?”

“Darlin, for you, Executioner is dead and buried.”

“Then yes. I’m off tomorrow, too.”

“I will pick you up at seven.” Jake kissed her cheek and walked backwards towards the parking lot, a wide smile on his face.

“Hey Jake?” she called as he reached his truck.

“Yeah?”

“Why not tonight?”

A cocky smile flashed across his face before disappearing, being replaced with a softer, more genuine one. “You’re giving Jake a chance, not Hangman. Jake’s a gentleman, he wants to do things the right way.”

“And how is he going to find where I live? He doesn’t have my address or phone number.”

Jake chuckled as he took a step back. “You are going to go back inside and finish your night with your friend. And if you really want me to pick you up at seven, you can text me in the morning.”

“But how -”

“Trust me,” he insisted as he climbed into his truck and backed out of the lot.

She walked back inside in a daze, confusion written all over face. Siding into her spot next to Dawson, she reviewed the events that had transpired earlier in the evening. A hand waving in front of her face broke her from her trance.

“Where were you just now?” Dawson questioned playfully, a knowing smirk dancing on her lips.

“He’s not what I expected,” she muttered as she leaned on her hand.

“Hangman is a jackass, but Jake…he’s a good man,” the brunette pilot, Natasha, confirmed from beside Dawson. “You have no idea how much it pains me to say nice things about him, either. He’s a thorn in my side at work but every time I’ve been in trouble on the ground, he’s had my back.”

Jake slid between the sheets of his bed just past midnight, hoping for a few hours of sleep. As soon as his eyes closed, his phone lit up. Checking it, he found an unsaved number had sent him a few digits and a street name.

Jake counted his lucky stars and resigned himself to skipping the gym and sleeping in. He had a date to plan, after all.

#writercole #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x fem #glen powell #top gun maverick #tgm fanfic

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two-white-butterflies · 2 years

Text

coaxed you into paradise

Chapter One: Brown Eyes. Description: Saera Targaryen was her father's forgotten daughter. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her sister and seeks solace in the arms of her uncle. Not realizing that the consequence of their affair is just as dire as her sister's.

masterlist

SHE COULDN'T remember the day she fell in love with Daemon. Only that the fall was a glorious one. Perhaps there was an allure in something clandestine, how they'd both live of stolen glances and crave each other's touch at night.

There was a thrill in something that you cannot have. "Should I give you a kiss before you leave?" Saera jokes as Daemon begins to put on his armor. He wasn't a bulky man, but you could see that he had muscles — his nose was defined and his eyes were lilac purple.

"What thrill would I have from something I am entitled to?" he replies as he pecks her lips gently. It would be another eon before they meet again. She sighs under his touch and leans into his embrace. "I will miss you," she whines as he chuckles lightly.

He'll be in Driftmark, meeting his future wife — Laena Velaryon. The next time he'll return, he'd be a married man. But not untouchable — not when his heart still belonged to the woman inside Saera Strong.

"I'll miss you more," he replies as he presses another kiss to her forehead. She reaches for his shoulders, and allows her hands to touch the coldness of his armor. "When you come back," she starts as she meets his eyes.

"You'll be a different person, but I'll still be the same. The same loving, the same passion..." she ended as his arms slowly crept onto her neck. He presses another needy kiss unto her temples, "Your father should've allowed me to take your hand in marriage." he spat as she laughed.

Her white locks blowing with the wind. "My father listens to no one, and sees no reason. You should've stolen me, and made me your wife." she retorts as she plays with the corners of his metal armor.

She pleaded for him to take her. It was her wedding with Ser Harwin Strong — and every night after that, was one filled with the darkest of regrets. "Now you'll have to leave me alone. With my husband who defiles our vows every night, with my sister who doesn't know any better." she tries to persuade him but he smiles at her softly instead.

The Velaryons and The Strongs were more valuable as allies rather than enemies. He places a hand on her cheeks, as his lips shudder in regret. "You must be strong for me, Saera. Dragons do not cower under flames." he pleads and she nods.

NEWS OF RHAENYRA'S labor reached far and wide. Soon enough, the entire realm was celebrating — and feasts were being scheduled here and there. Saera could see that Harwin was nervous, her brain knew the reason why — but her heart couldn't believe it.

Rhaenyra's children were sired by Ser Harwin. It was evident in the way he paced and constantly rambled with Ser Leanor. "Harwin, it seems to me that you are more worried that the-father-to-be." Saera remarked sarcastically as Harwin halts.

He scratches the back of his neck and she rolls her eyes. "I'm not nervous, Saera" he responds softly as he sits down beside her.

They've been married for 5-years, they've loved each other for 3, not once has she fallen pregnant with his seed. In her eyes it seemed like the Gods would not grant them a child together for their union was a sham.

"Well, you should be. My sister is giving birth to her heir." she replies coldly and he raises his eyebrows. She looks away from him, until she feels him sitting a few centimeters closer. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, and he places a hand on her lap.

"Have I done anything wrong?" he questions while Saera bites her lips. She turns and smiles, "I'm sorry, I'm probably worried about Nyra." she lies and he nods and places a kiss on her face.

SAERA BITES BACK A GASP as she exchanges a confused stare with Queen Alicent. "He is a handsome young boy," King Viserys smiles as Prince Jacehaerys coos lightly. Even a blind man could see that this child wasn't Ser Laenor's.

Harwin smiles from behind his wife as they both stared into The Young Prince. He had the brownest honey eyes that pierced into Saera's soul. As if the baby was mocking her, laughing at her inability to carry his father's children.

"He is adorable," Saera breaks her silence as Rhaenyra stares at Ser Harwin. They both felt a little guilty about the ordeal. "Thank you, sister." Rhaenyra smiles as she offers Jace. "Would you like to hold him?" she offers and Saera scowls.

Was she trying to shove it deeper in Saera's face? That she fucked her husband behind her back? "No thank you," she declines as she gathers her gown and excuses herself from the room.

next chapter >>

#daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #ser harwin strong x oc #harwin strong x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #coaxed you into paradise

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rorywritesjunk · 2 months

Text

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. I also gave him some anxiety and stuff because while he's in love he doesn't believe someone could love him back. He just has a lot of uncertainty with romance. A/N: I think this is going to end around chapter 20. I'm working on 18 right now. There will be one shots, however. Sunny and Buggy aren't over, just the main story.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 14

“You have everything?”

“Yes, Miss Pins.”

“You know, you can come back if you ever need to.”

“I know, thank you.”

Miss Pins shot a glare in Buggy's direction. He was waiting by the door and straightened up when he caught her glaring at him. He crossed his arms and glared back.

“If I catch wind of you mistreating her, I will bring hell down upon you, Buggy.” Miss Pins warned. Buggy rolled his eyes but couldn't help but feel a bit unsettled by the intensity of the old woman's glare. “Do you understand? If you even so much as make her cry I will find out.”

“I would never!” Buggy shot back.

“I'll be fine, Miss Pins.” You insisted. “Really.” You looked over at Buggy with a smile, and when he saw that he relaxed just a bit as he started blushing. “You know he's not like any other pirate you've met.”

“That's definitely true.” She agreed. Buggy frowned at that, wondering if that was meant to be insulting.

“Listen here you old-”

“Buggy! We should get going, yea?” You said as you gave your boss a hug. “We're heading to my parents for the reunion. I haven't written to tell them the news.”

“Oh, so you're going to surprise them with… him.” Miss Pins said as she pulled back from the hug, gesturing to Buggy. “Well, it will definitely be a surprise.”

“Yea! A wonderful surprise.” You said as you looked back at Buggy. “They're going to love him.”

Miss Pins didn't say anything else, just crossed her arms as she glared at Buggy. She was happy for you, of course, but why Buggy over every other man? What on earth did you see in him that made you start to fall in love and agree to marry him? She couldn't understand.

Benji was up in his room moping, having already said his goodbyes. If he came downstairs and saw Buggy there’d be no telling what he would end up saying to him. He didn't want you to leave, he wanted you to stay forever, but that wasn't possible.

You went to grab your things but Buggy grabbed them first, shooting a glare at your boss while you opened the door for him. You gave her one last wave before you stepped out of the shop one last time.

It was going to be an adjustment for the two of you. Buggy wanted to treat you like a Queen, feeling you should do nothing and just relax all day. You, on the other hand, already cleaned his room, organized his wardrobe to make room for your things, and already knew where everything was in the kitchen to the point you knew what was on hand before the cook did. All within a week of living on the ship.

He couldn't understand why you didn't want to just rest and relax for a while.

You started a mending basket for the crew as well, telling them to put things in there that needed any fixing. That shocked Buggy. You were not a member of the crew, you were going to be his wife and you shouldn't be working at all for him.

You also unearthed those photos that he showed you while drunk on his birthday.

“You said his name was Shanks, right?” You said after the first week while you made him dinner. The cook was fine to let you cook Buggy's meals now, it was one less person to worry about. Buggy had just taken a large swallow of his drink before choking at your question. He managed to spit it out, coughing and sputtering before looking at you, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. You pulled a picture from your pocket and set it on the table.

“Where did you find that?!” He demanded as he grabbed it and stuffed it in his own pocket. “You don't need to see that!”

“But you were so cute as a kid, Buggy!” You insisted as you checked on the potatoes that were boiling on the stove. “And you mentioned that you and him were on a ship together once, and I'm curious what ship it was.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he took a cautious drink. Buggy wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about it, but he was in love with you, it was kind of fair that he tells you somethings about himself (when he's sober), so he sighed and finished off his drink, slamming the empty bottle on the table. You replaced it with a fresh one within seconds and his eyes widened slightly as he looked up at you lovingly.

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Just the ship name, honey.” You chuckled as you kissed him on the forehead.

“Fine.” He mumbled. He opened the bottle and took a sip before responding. “I was an apprentice on the Oro Jackson.”

“Really?!” You looked impressed by that and Buggy straightened up in his chair a bit, grinning up at you as he tipped the bottle back, swallowing some drink before setting the bottle down on the table.

“I was an apprentice under Captain Roger.” He continued. For as flashy as he could be, talking about his past wasn't something he was keen on doing, but the way you were looking at him spurned him on. “For a while, until the crew was disbanded and he was caught.”

“That's amazing, Buggy!” You said, smiling brightly. “No wonder you're an amazing pirate, you worked under the King of the Pirates himself!”

His cheeks burned at your compliment and he looked up at you with a frown. There was never any ill intent with your questions and curiosity when it came to him, but he couldn't help but feel a bit guarded. You lowered the heat on the potatoes before checking on the meat that was roasting. Buggy kept his eyes on you as he took another drink of rum.

“Why didja wanna know the ship’s name?” He asked. You looked over at him, confused by his question. “Why didja wanna know about Shanks?”

“Because you showed me those pictures on your birthday.” You reminded him as you checked on the potatoes next. “And you said the two of you were best friends as kids, so I got curious about you when you were younger.”

Buggy looked away from you, gripping the beer bottle tightly. “Don't ask about him.”

“Buggy-”

“Don't.” He hissed, tone catching you off guard. You paused for a moment, considering your next actions carefully, before you walked over to him and touched his shoulder gently. He turned his head and looked up at you before straightening up in his chair to wrap his arms around your middle. You put your hands on his shoulders and sighed softly.

“I won't ask again, Buggy.” You assured him. “I'm sorry I upset you.”

He shook his head, mumbling against your stomach as he hid his face against it. This had become his favorite way to hug you, sitting down so you stood over him, rubbing his shoulders or his back, sometimes running your fingers through his hair. His favorite place was being in your arms in some way, and since moving onto the ship and into his bed he made sure he falls asleep and wakes up in your arms each morning and you've yet to turn him down.

It took a few weeks to get to your parents. As the ship drew nearer, you became more excited about seeing your family again and introducing Buggy to them. The size of your family was quite intimidating but you assured him he just needed to meet your parents and that no one else mattered.

And while you were excited, he was nervous, though he tried not to show it. What if your parents refused to let you marry him? What if they didn't think he was good enough, or thought he was a joke? You had mentioned your mother had served under Red Leg Zeff while she was a pirate, so was she going to be judging him and his own successes? Would your dad like him or would he think Buggy should pack his bags and move on?

And as the island came into view and you squealed in excitement upon seeing it, Buggy tried not to fall apart right then. He waited until you were getting ready for bed the night before you were going to arrive and when he told you how he was feeling, he thought you would tell him to suck it up, deal with it, he was meeting your parents and that he needed to be on his best behavior or else you wouldn't marry him.

Why did he always think the worst with you? Because no sooner that he finished freaking out, your arms were around him and holding him tightly to you, letting him slump against you as he tried to take a deep breath.

“Just be yourself, Buggy.” You told him as you kissed his cheek. “My parents will love you.”

“But what if-”

“I'm sorry you're stressing over this, honey, but my mom isn't going to judge you, if anything if you tell her you knew Gold Roger she'll be impressed.” You assured him as you tightened your arms around him. “And you do not have to get their blessing to marry me.”

“You sure?” He mumbled, tilting his head up to look at you. You nodded, smiling softly as you gave him a kiss.

“Promise.” You said. “You say I'm nice and that's why you fell in love with me, well, my parents are just as nice, Buggy, so please don't worry.” You put your hand on his cheek caressing softly before leaning down to bump your forehead against this gently. “If it becomes too much at any time, we can leave.”

Buggy frowned. You would leave your family reunion for him? Why? You talked about it almost non-stop since getting on his ship and he knew how much it meant to you, he couldn't ruin it. He needed to get it together. Why was he so nervous anyways? He could meet your family, impress them with tales of adventures on the sea; he was a pirate after all while your mom was retired from the life. Surely she'd be impressed.

He cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Nah, babe, don't worry about me. I can handle it.”

You looked at him with a smile, reaching up to twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. He was so cute sometimes. You wanted him to have an out if he needed too, because even you got a little overwhelmed by the size of the family, especially with you being the eldest cousin. Buggy had no idea what was in store for him once the ship arrived.

“I know you can, honey, but I just want you to know I'm okay if either of us need a break.” It was hard to stop playing with his hair sometimes. Since you had first asked him to keep it down the day after his birthday, he often would whenever he was around you, though he kept it under a bandana while he was out on deck to keep it from blowing in his face during the day. Right now, as you were about to get into bed, he had it down which meant you wouldn't stop touching it. “You're very sweet, you know that? Thank you for coming with me for this. I'm so lucky to have you, Buggy.”

He turned as red as his nose, avoiding eye contact as you showered him with praise. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be used to it. You gave him a kiss after each compliment, calling him sweet, lovely, handsome and he thought he was going to die from the over abundance of love you were showing him right then.

To him, he was the lucky one to have found someone like you who cared so much for him.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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