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obliviouscxnt · 9 months

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Control Azriel x Reader

a/n: I'm so lost, i don't know what I'm doing. Still learning how to use tumblr but in the meantime, welcome to the first fic i feel like posting.

synopsis: feyre's growing curiosity about you sparks some personal questions.

Warnings: mentioned SA, fluff, hints of sexual activities

pt.2 | pt.3

One of the first friends Feyre made in the Night Court was you. You reminded her of the twin wraiths in a way. Never saying much, if anything at all. Maybe that was one of the reasons she liked you so much.

You didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s presence. Feyre had as much fun sitting in silence with you as she did on a night out with Mor.

But as time passed, as Feyre became a constant in the Night Court, she had grown curious. She wanted to know more about you like she did the others.

So she started asking you questions, and to her surprise, you would answer her. Your answers weren’t clipped, or vague. You never sounded annoyed with her, you were completely open and honest with her.

“How long have you known everyone?” Feyre had asked while you gently played with her hair, her scalp tingling at your touch.

You thought about it for a moment. “Over two hundred years now.”

She tilts her head, so apart from her you were the newest member of the inner circle. “How did you meet?” She asks, shivering as the tingles travel down her spine.

You start braiding a few small strands from the front of her face as you speak. “My kind are far different from other Fae.” Feyre practically perks up at the words. She knew you weren’t high fae but she never bothered saying anything about it, she barely even noticed it most of the time not nearly enough to warrant a discussion. “They hail from no court, and bow to no lord, not even the Mother is with their thoughts.”

Feyre tried to imagine what that would be like, how they would act, what traditions they’d carry. She thought of your features, the ones that stood out among other high fae. Your ears didn’t point, your nails were like claws, and your teeth bore long sharp canines on both the top and bottom of your mouth, but the features that stood out the most were the ones you kept hidden.

Feyre saw them once, your wings. The first time she met you. Like they were just there for a formal introduction. They were big, beautiful, and intricate. They looked like moth wings, and fluttered like them too. Opening and closing slowly when you were lax.

Immediately when Feyre saw them, she felt like painting again, she could barely keep her eyes off them, barely keep herself from reaching out a hand to touch them. Maybe that was the reason for their absence in the next visit; all that remained of the glorious appendages was precise ink that lined the whole of your back, a tattoo of folded wings.

From the way they folded, they almost formed a natural cape. She wondered how far your tattoo ran, the extravagant fabrics of the dresses you wore only showed so much.

She pictured a whole colony of people that looked like you and immediately felt like painting again.

“It’s why nobody can do anything about their backward ways, they listen to nobody but themselves. Believe no one but themselves.” All preconceived thoughts of your people turn sour with your words.

“The things they’ve done, they still do…” You release a shaky breath as you finish the small braids and set them aside.

Feyre turns to look at you when your delicate hands part with her hair. She finds you sorting through a box of hair ornaments, but your eyes are clouded. Not even the most glorious of diamonds could shine through that fog. “You don’t have to...“

You blink out of your daze and wave her off as you pull out a few gem-encrusted pins and show them to her. Waiting for her to give you a nod of approval before pulling out a stunning bejeweled silver comb and repeating the same process. Your collection was truly marvelous.

“When I was saved, it was my first Flowering Night.” You spoke the words with barely concealed bitterness. “A night where all mature unpaired females are sent into the woods for any participating males to hunt down and take as they please.”

You tuck back the small braids with the sparkling pins. Feyre listened as you continued, she wanted to say something but what would she say?

“No one could run very far from our community, the woods of the Middle hold no mercy. It was either hide and hope you make it till dawn without being spotted by a male. Or die to the other horrid creatures that live in those woods.”

Feyre’s heart ached for you, her sorrow a tangible thing able to be smelt in the air. And you squeezed her shoulder, you comforted her. Her sorrow only increased. You never deserved any of it.

“I chose the latter.” You carefully place the comb into her hair, finding it in yourself to smile at the final product. You still fiddle with a few strands until you feel pleased. “A close encounter with death led to the discovery of my gift,”

Dreamwalker, Rhys had called you. An ability so rare even Helion’s exquisite library had very little information on it.

Feyre loosely understood that you could enter another person's dream. Could manipulate it as you wish, to serenity or to a blood-curdling nightmare. But what made you so powerful, what made you such a valuable asset to the Night Court was your ability to bring dreams to life. All manner of dreams.

However, your ability was sparsely used for court matters, and only necessary people knew of it. You were their trump card. Something nobody would see coming.

Feyre would never forget the time you had a nightmare, sending half the court in preparation for battle. She’d also never forget the way Azriel had fought off the nightmare incarnate to get to you. How he charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. While Rhys had stood protectively in front of Feyre, and Cassian’s siphons flared from beside her, providing a shield around them.

Feyre had realized then that Azriel would go to hell and back for you.

Feyre turns to face you, to look you in your enchanting eyes now that you are finished playing with her hair. “I was barely a woman, I didn’t know the first thing about defending myself. I didn’t know what this gift was.” She watched you raise a hand, small stars forming and trailing your fingers, blinking and shimmering as you played with them. “What good is a gift this powerful if you don’t know what to do with it? It’s as good as a broken blade.”

Feyre’s breath leaves her body when you pull down the shoulder of your elegant emerald gown, revealing a long jagged scar running diagonally across your chest. The skin puffed up from how deep the gash was. “I would’ve died if it weren’t for Azriel.”

The high fae’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

“He heard me screaming. And he came for me.” You pull the shoulder back up and smile. Actually, smile. Feyre had never known someone like you, someone able to flip such a horrid memory around. Someone so able to pick out the good amongst the bad. “It wasn’t until a century later that I finally accepted his invitation to the Night Court and met everyone else.”

Feyre found herself grabbing your hand and squeezing. So grateful you had accepted his invitation.

You squeeze back.

“You’re so strong.” Feyre says, furrowing her brows when you laugh like she had told a joke.

“It wasn’t strength that led me here, Feyre.” You tell her. Once again she wanted to paint you, but she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do you justice. “It was fate.”

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.” Feyre calls and you both look to the opening door. Two incredibly attractive Illyrian men stand at the doorway.

Rhys smiles at the sight of you two, eyes raking over the hairstyle you’d given Feyre. “You look lovely, Feyre darling.” Her face heats as you smile in triumph.

“Say goodnight.” Comes Azriel’s voice in that tone he only used on you.

You obey his command without a second thought, giving Feyre a light hug and giving Rhys a small bow before scurrying toward Azriel’s waiting arm.

You fall into step with him as his hand lands on your lower back. But before the two of you could disappear you tug on his shirt, prompting him to stop only long enough for you to turn back toward Feyre and say a final goodnight. “Dream well Feyre!” Then he continued leading you away to your shared chambers.

The mated pair watch you two travel away. Rhys with a look of content for you and his brother. Feyre with a new curiosity.

She couldn’t help but be curious about the dynamic you and Azriel had. The way that dynamic bled into the interactions you had with your friends. How you always asked for permission before doing something and always jumped up whenever anyone asked you to do something. Rhys seemed to catch on to that curiosity.

He decided to save you the embarrassment of Feyre asking you herself. He had enough of an understanding of you to know when something would make you uncomfortable, no matter how much you said otherwise.

You’d always answer any questions asked of you openly and honestly, whether you wanted to or not. It was one of the reasons many were at first against your visits with Feyre, himself included. The newly turned fae was far too oblivious to your situation to recognize when she was taking advantage of your obedience. But you assured Rhysand repeatedly that Feyre never bothered you with her questions. That you enjoyed her presence just as much as she, hopefully, enjoyed yours.

Much to everyone’s delight, Feyre regarded you with gentleness and awe from the very start. It was the effect you had on people. It was the reason Azriel didn’t put up a fight about leaving your visits unsupervised.

“[name] was raised by cruel people, they taught her that in a relationship the male's word is law. Her people think a female is expected to give up any and all control to her male. It’s one of the few things she never was able to condition herself out of, Azriel helps her by providing that control she needs.”

Feyre thinks about that, face heating at the images it created. She wondered what that would be like, to surrender herself completely. “So if he told her to jump off the nearest bridge…?”

“She’d do it, with zero hesitation.”

Rhys smirks, knowing glint in his eyes as his gaze runs over the blush that coated her face.

“But he’d never ask something like that of her. He knows her inside out, knows when something is too much or not enough.” He steps closer to her, delighting in the way her breathing picks up. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think your interest in this topic was more than innocent curiosity.”

“Well, do you?” Feyre asks, making his eyes narrow. “Know any better?”

Rhys’s gaze becomes dark. “Nope.”

****

“Did you enjoy your time with Feyre?” You sigh at his voice, the comfort it brings you. You find yourself leaning into him, and he allows it.

“It was nice.” You say truly. It felt like it was easier to breathe now that Feyre had more of an understanding. “She asked about how we met.”

The hand on your back pulls you closer to him as if he were remembering that day. Remembering what you looked like as that hideous creature held you down, slicing into you. The way you flinched away from him after he’d slayed the creature. The sheer dress that you wore, If it could even be called that. He could still picture everything so vividly.

How you eventually submitted to him, and how that made him sick. How he carried you out of the Middle and into the lands of the Night Court, never taking you into the cities. How for the next century after that he would visit you at the little private cabin only he and his brothers knew about, how he took care of you, and how he grew to love you. How you grew to love him in return.

He shoves those thoughts into the back of his mind as he opens the door to your shared chambers, walking you inside before shutting the door behind you.

His hands move to your shoulders while he guides you to sit on the edge of the large bed, big enough to fit at least three winged beings. Hands brushing down your body as he kneels before you, settling on your ankle. He brings your foot up and rests it on his thigh before slowly unraveling the straps of your heel. Once finished he continued with the right heel, his touch nothing but confident from years and years of practice.

A hand pats your thigh, letting you know he’s finished. Your eyes trail him as he heads toward the bathroom, you’d be happy to just look at him for the rest of your immortal life.

You help Azriel, though he had no problem doing it for you, by taking off your jewelry one by one, setting each extravagant piece on the nightstand. By the time you're done Azriel’s waiting for you next to a full bath.

“Come.” He beckons from beside the large clawfoot tub. Hand outstretched and waiting for you.

You saunter toward him, sighing as you let your brain just rest. Let him do everything for you.

His hands are strong, and gentle, and secure all in one as they guide you out of your gown, his clothes following not long after. You sigh as he brings you into the tub. Positioning you so you sat between his legs, back to his front.

Your eyelids slowly fall shut, coaxed by his soothing touch. Feeling nothing but content when he pushed your head back to lay on his shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed against your temple.

You were soon in a state of barely there, just teetering on the side of sleep but awake enough to move when he told you to.

“Lean forward.”

His hands rub up and down your back, cleaning and massaging the skin there. You shudder in pleasure and he hums soothingly. Like cooing at a pet. You straighten up a bit when he taps the marked skin a few times, moving forward just enough for your wings to slowly peel away from your back. What was once ink on your skin, now real moving wings.

“Spread.” And you do so, wings unfolding and stretching out completely.

You shiver as his hands brush against them, making them twitch both away and toward him. As if they couldn’t decide whether the feeling it brought you was too much or not enough.

As always Azriel handled them with utmost care, humming when small noises of pleasure escaped you. When he was finished he tapped your shoulder to let you know, but you were too tired to summon the magic needed to conceal them.

Though, not tired enough to remember it was his turn.

Slowly with lethargic movements, you turn to face him. Wings folding up again, forming a natural cape on your back. “Can I-“ You begin but catch yourself before you can finish. His narrowed eyes crinkled into a smile. Happy he no longer had to remind you of such a simple fact.

Don’t ask to touch what is yours.

So instead you reach for the soap in his hands and begin to wash him. Taking satisfaction in the way his wound-up muscles, tense from hours of work, relaxed under your touch. The way his hands rested on your hips, squeezing every now and then appreciatively. The hums that left his mouth, no longer with the intent to soothe you but to let you know how pleased you made him.

Your touches became increasingly distracted, sleep slowly leaving your system as your mind filled with nothing but him.

He smirks, a mix of amusement and attraction. Allowing his own touches to become less innocent. His hands move to wrap around your wrists, dragging your hands down, down, and down his body. Soap long ago discarded.

“Touch me.” He commands.

And nothing could keep you from satisfying him.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron

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soapoet · 1 year

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A letter from your future spouse

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Hello,

You must be up to something, because I cannot get you off my mind. Day and night you haunt me. I type away on my computer, answer phone calls, and I could swear I saw you in the corner of my eyes. At night as I begin to drift, I hear your voice and jolt up, only to be met with an empty room entirely void of you. When you're really here with me in the flesh, I look at you only when you look away. Will I be punished for these stolen glances? You and I, are we forbidden, and if so, who will be the judge?

I thought my life was stable, and in many ways it was. Though it was painted grey, dull. I lived dreary mondays every day of the week. I chased after new experiences, new achievements, new opportunities, new things. New, new, new, new. But it was not until you walked into my life that I truly felt the warmth of the sun and the rain on my skin. Was I colour blind all along? Because you show me colours I never even knew existed. You were truly new. A new light in my life that shines so brightly, but never hurts my eyes. Still I look away. It's not proper, is it? I've been caught up in the crossfire, amidst a battle between head and heart. You're in my heart, you have it in your hands, but didn't I say you are constantly on my mind too? It seems then, my dear, that this battle has a victor, and now I must prcoeed to gather up the courage to speak what I've so carefully kept hidden.

Oh, but you're so observant. You already know. You knew all along, didn't you? You so innocently sat there, knowing I'm a moth to the flame, and that come hail or shine I would find my way to you. You're a mastermind. An architect, the keeper of the blueprint to our tale. I am in awe of you. You were supposed to be a problem, a silly crush I could get over and never act upon, but now I'm thinking of things borrowed and blue. The first day that I saw you lightning struck. It marked the beginning of the end for many things in my life which I had kept around because it was fine. Not perfect, just fine. Suddenly I saw all the cracks and flaws, saw that which I would tolerate, go along with, even when I really didn't want to. You shook me to my core. In many ways, you ruined my life. For the better, I am sure. But for a moment there I wondered what horrors you had unleashed upon me. With your face so sweet and innocent I thought surely you would be unable to trigger earthquakes. And that even if you could, surely you were much too sweet and much too kind to do such thing.

Yet here I stand, amidst the rubble of what I used to call my life. Everything came crashing down because none of it was as stable as it should've been. I'm rebuilding, slowly, and could use some guidance or inspiration. What's your favourite colour? Would you like these tiles for the kitchen? I want to build my life up to look like the perfect home for you. I wish to keep you safe. You've weathered storms just as I have. Had to grow quickly, like dandelions through concrete. You're tired, and I don't want to see you quitting so I am building you a shelter. I promise to keep watch while you get some rest in my arms. When you're healed and strong enough I will provide you the space and time so you can chase your dreams in peace. You can use our home as the foundation for your castle. I know the power you hold, and I will be there to help you wield it.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

02.

Hello,

Coincidentally that is exactly when I knew. "You had me at hello" is such a cliché, but I swear that it is true. I always know trouble when I see it, and you are quite the nightmare indeed. I hope you take no offence to my words. I say what I mean and mean what I say. That typically results in problems, but to me it's another one to toss onto the existing pile. I have a lot of baggage, but if you don't mind, I won't mind yours. Maybe we could get a big storage locker and shove all our baggage in there, lock the door and toss the keys, skip town and never return. It'll all be auctioned off one day for somebody else to deal with. Wouldn't that be nice?

Where was I? Right. Hello. That's when I knew. I always do. I fall very quickly and passionately. Really I leap off into free fall all by my own judgement, sometimes perhaps lack thereof. I know a pretty thing when I see it, though pretty isn't enough, is it? I've learned that the hard way. As I've learned most things. Behind me lays a trail of burnt bridges and broken hearts, though most of those pieces are my own. Most people are unable to tell. I have a reputation, but I think the judgement is unjust. Wholly unfair. I have developed trust issues. Betrayal cuts deep. You know that, don't you? I keep people at bay, and guard my territory fiercly. I am very loyal and I am known for my equal bark and bite. I want to be your guard dog. I swear I will lunge for the jugular if anybody dares cross you. I am protective, albeit a little reckless. I have a lot of scars to prove it.

Little birdies may warn you of me. Tell twisted tales of my exploits. I've been called toxic. Perhaps there is truth to some of it. My love burns bright and hot, but it never wavers. I crave closeness, and wish to crawl into the heart and mind of my target of affections like a spider trespassing into your home to weave its webs in the darkest corners. I want to know you better than anybody else. Know your body, mind, heart, and your soul like it is my own. You will never be left wanting reassurance, because I have known doubt, and doubt is my enemy and I will fight it on sight. You will always know that I am yours. With me you have nothing to fear. Least of all me or my commitment to you and us.

Perhaps we both had to scrape our knees as we crawled through painful loves before we found each other. Together we'll be powerful. A dynamic duo, partners in crime. Those closest to me would come forward as witnesses to my ride or die nature, and you as my life partner will be my biggest testament to this part of my character. You're not too different, are you? You would die for your people, fight with your bare hands if you had to. Together we will face the world. I'll have your back and you'll have mine, a 360° of the battlefield. We can tear down and build up whatever we want. We can build an empire, or bring them down. With you by my side, everything is possible. I would move mountains and part seas for you. Your love is an enchanted rose and I am a beast, and I will wait for you. Come to me quickly.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

03.

Hello,

I hope my words don't bore you with their simplicity. I also hope that you've been well. I have so many questions, but let us not rush. There is no finish line in love, correct? I've been alright. Y'know, ups and downs. I've kept to myself a lot. Self improvement has become akin to an occupation. I always strive to do and be better. I may not seem the kind, but I have a soft heart which I guard closely. I like old timey romance and watch sappy things when I am down. Please don't tell anybody! I am a rock, but for a long time I was but a pebble, kicked around and misplaced. I have moved around a lot and all I want is to grow roots. Would you mind sparing a little spot in your garden? I just need a little sunlight and a fall of rain to grow. I promise I won't waste your time and do my all to never disappoint you.

My affections build slowly. Too slow for many, but I hate accidents and mistakes, at least my own. I strive for perfection, though people tell me it does not exist. I see it in you, though, so they must be wrong. Sure, you have your flaws, but the glue between your cracks glisten in the light and are still beautiful to me. I really do enjoy the simple things. Do you stop to smell the roses too? I have a gentle love to offer. A kitchen bathed in morning sunlight and the smell of pancakes in the air. I'll eat the first pancakes, because the ones I bring to you in bed should be perfect, and the first one never is. You deserve so much good, and I really hope I can provide a lot of that good to you by my own hands.

I am shy, and don't always have a way with words. I will tell you through music how I feel, or paint you on a canvas in all your favourite colours. I'll help you sculpt your dreams and wishes. I'd make a great assistant. I would love to follow you on your way up ladders and mountains. I believe in you like some believe in a higher power. You can put your faith in me too. Love is a choice, and I will make the choice to love you every morning when I rise. You are the kind of fun that doesn't make me ill. The adventure I am unafraid to embark on. We can play our own roles and support each other. I'll be of service to you at every step if you need me. In return I only ask that you hold me close and never let me go.

I fear abandonment, and have known a life without guidance. I've become rigid, and hope that you'll help me bend without snapping and show me the wonders of the unknown. With you by my side I won't be afraid. My skepticism will not be a hindrance because you lead me into uncharted territory as though you have a map, and I trust that you know where we're going. And should uncertainty rise, well, I have dealt with that beast plenty, and I can tame it and send it on its way should it bother you. I will always stand by you so that never again will you need to face challenges alone. You are a promise I will keep forever if you let me.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

04.

Hello,

Have you eaten? Taken your meds? Keep yourself hydrated. Take even just a sip. I apologise if I'm fussing, but I've always been a caregiver. People depend on me. At home, at work, even my friends. I get taken advantage of pretty easily, and I try my best to keep my boundaries. Though I am admittededly prone to a bit of a saviour complex. It's not so much that I don't think others cannot get up on their own, I just think they shouldn't have to. A helping hand is often rare these days. For many, even just the day to day grind is unbearable, so any chance to take the load off another's shoulders and let them rest and catch their breath I'll happily take.

I try my best to be fair, but often lose sight of what's best for me. I want to help and support everyone who needs it, but in my quest to save everyone, I have often abandoned myself. My care is often expected and thus taken for granted. Nobody seems to understand how much it hurts. Well, until I met you anyway. You're a little fire cracker. You have a great presence despite your size. You're honest and so very clever. I was instantly in awe by your radiance, your willpower, your resilience and your strength. You taught me important lessons. I'm older than you but sometimes I feel like a student listening to my teacher preach. You're opinionated and steadfast, and have such a strong sense of justice. You call it like it is, and have called me out aplenty. Always well-intentioned. You get worked up easily, and I find it rather cute. You scold me like a parent their child when I don't take up enough space, don't hold my head high, or when I give away too much for free. You are objective and fair, never tell me I'm right or wrong unless I really am. It's refreshing. You're like a breath of fresh air.

It pains me to hear of your past. How you've been to hell and back. You face struggles even when you really can't or feel like giving up. You always get back up again, always try to find another way around when an obstacle sits in the way of where you're going. You've lived life on hardmode, and now I yearn to make things easier for you. You if anyone deserves my devotion. I know you are much too just to take advantage of my kindness and return my love in earnest. I trust you, and that says a lot as I've only ever been able to trust myself.

Would you let me be your safe space? We can build you a nest and make sure you have the nicest, softest things and plenty of snacks. I wish to provide you the space and time to really relax and let your guard down. You can safely get in touch with your inner child and heal them from all their past wounds. I will guard your sanctuary and let you be free and able to go wherever your heart desires. Let your curiosity guide you, and I will follow and keep bandaids in my pocket should you stumble and fall. You don't need to be strong all the time, and you need not be ready for battle at all hours of the day. I will take the wheel and take us in the direction of your choice whilst you rest safe and sound for as long and as much as you want and need.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

05.

Hello,

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear, ay? Am I late, or were you just early? It seems as though you've been waiting a long time. Wasted your time kissing a whole lot of frogs, huh? Settled for good enough? Jumped from ship to ship like a pirate looking for the best loot? Well, congratulations! You made it. I'm here now! I'm just kidding, but I am, in fact, very happy now that you found me. Lots of hurdles to get over, had to crumple up many plans and ideas and kick yourself into gear on the career front. I'm far from your finish line, I am merely a little prize for a job well done. And now you'll have me by your side for the next chapters. Oh, the adventures we will have! How exciting, I can hardly wait.

Something important you had to learn before you got here is beating the status quo to the curb. You always did struggle with fitting into a neat little box and following orders, didn't you? Yet so many fools tried to bend your will and make you follow a nice little step by step pre-determined program. Hah, as if you'd ever be happy giving up your freedom like that. And I adore that about you. To hell with the status quo. I never do what is expected of me unless I myself set or agreed to those expectations. This is my life, and your life is yours. Wanna dance? Because I'll choose to court you on sight, and I hope you don't make me look like yet another fool because truly, I tell you, our dance will be an exhilarating one. We can both lead, because screw the rules!

Do not mistake my arrogance and my eleutheromania as purely egoic and a sign of wavering commitment. Though I have my admirers and my comrades, I am fiercly loyal. I do intend to flaunt you, because you are a dream come true worthy of the spotlight. I hope you're not shy, and if you are, then well, it'll be that much more entertaining for me to see you flustered by all the attention and applause. So learn to take a compliment, kiddo, because you just hit the jackpot and the prize includes a lifetime supply of praise. Along with a steadfast support system, as not only will I be at your beck and call, I fully intend to introduce you to my network of friends in higher places. Fret not, because your wildest dreams will soon appear mundane as together with some found family we will get where you are going so much faster than you've been going before.

Speaking of family, I'm not very close with mine. Perhaps neither are you, so you will understand the feeling of always having to do everything yourself and not having the kind of safety net that a family can provide. This is why I have collected friends over the years to whom I serve as family and they the same for me in return. In my anxieties of abandonment and neglect, I do everything in my power to help and support my loved ones because I know what it feels like to be without as much as encouragement on this journey of life. If you ever need some kind words, I'll be sure to whisper them in your ear and shout your name from the rooftops. You deserve the world, so pack your bags. We have tickets to explore it all.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

06.

Hello,

I pray you did not hear me talking to myself. I cry out into the void often. My mind, always abuzz with what ifs and wonder, has its way of driving me mad. Often I feel like a mad scientist, fixated on something so long I fail to take care of all my human needs. Before I know it, the sun has set and made way for the night. I recognise the passing of time only when I notice it is dark and the only source of light is the screen right on front of me. I have so many tabs open in my head I don't always notice what goes on around me. But you startled me. Admittededly I did not notice right away, but when I did I was shocked. It must've been weeks before I zoned out, watching your face as I thought of absolutely nothing. I waited for you to finish whatever it was that you were occupied with, and then it hit me. You're beautiful and I like you.

It feels easy to be around you. I can't say the same for many people, if any. I have had plenty of offers, but competing against my solitude is difficult. A race few finish, and none truly come out of as the victor. I get bored easily, and I must be honest and admit that though I may be quickly intrigued and glue myself to my newest interest, my attention is hard to keep. I enjoy the rush of newness, and yearn for a love that stays fresh and full of intrigue. And I found that in you. For you lead your own life, explore your own paths, then report back to me your newest finds. We pick apart things and situations like mechanics figuring out all the parts of a new machine. Then we go and find new things to inevitably share, and sometimes we journey together too. There is always something. I no longer feel like I am the only one keeping the conversation going. No longer the one in charge of every who and what and how and why and when and where. You pull your own weight. For once I, too, feel fascinating. And not only do I feel interesting, I find you equally interesting. It didn't drop for either of us.

Some may look at us strangely, but good heavens, are some people so easily lulled into a boring and mundane routine. Every time I would cry out my woes, I was called childish. Told that love will and should settle into a comfortable and steady routine. That it is normal for the excitement of newness to fade as you get to know someone. I refused to believe every relationship was doomed to become such a snooze. And I am glad you did too, because you keep growing as I grow and our vines they intertwine and part ways and cross again in this intricate web of possibilities. To know you is to be a student of law or medicine. Doctors and lawyers practice their craft, they're not fixed by a mere degree because neither law or medicine is fixed. It is ever-changing and developing. I pinch myself because I can hardly believe I found another student like me.

Never fear I will leave you feeling stupid. I am aware of my own merit, but never wield it against anyone, unless needed. You are very clever and you have strengths and skills that I do not. I promise to be there to listen, especially in times when nobody else will. I have known loneliness and neglect. My curiosity is a form of escapism as I run away from the eldritch horrors of my past. Please be direct with me. Within me lives a tired old hopeless romantic, whom I locked away in shame as I was told it never plays out like in the movies. But you've proved to me that it actually does. And for you I'll do anything. Though you sometimes leave me tongue tied and flustered, you stabilize me. As thanks you'll have my loyalty and devotion. I'm used to taking care of others, and I know my care won't be misplaced on you. I read people easily already, but please allow me to study your face and note down every micro-expression so that I will always be able to tell how you are feeling even when you feel unable to put it into words.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

#pac reading #tarot reading #energy reading #intuitive reading #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #love reading #love pac #tarotblr #soapy.post

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mothandpidgeon · 3 months

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ave atque vale (Marcus Acacius x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: Marcus leaves without saying goodbye. Ave atque vale meaning hail and farewell

contents: angst, yearning, allusions to sex moth never uses y/n.

wc: 500

a/n: I'm breaking my own rule here about not writing for characters that aren't out yet but Daddius Acacius broke my brain yesterday. I hope you won't hold it against me. I am just a baby. Not beta'd.

The sleepy whimper that you make when Marcus slides out of the bed is enough to make him regret this. His resolve slips, just for a second, and he considers slotting himself back beside you. Holding you just a few minutes longer.

Dawn is just breaking, gray light filing in the shadows. There’s still enough time for a little more. You’re still slick from the night before. It would be easy to fit himself inside of you, feel your velvet grip around him, your soft shoulder against his lips. But waking you is the last thing he wants.

His cowardice got the better of him. He couldn’t bear to see you with tears in your eyes, knowing you had a thousand questions he couldn’t answer. This was his last chance to see you before he’s sent away and this time, he’s not so certain he’ll be coming back. There's nothing he can do to change his fate. Duty bound to the empire– to wage war, taste blood and ash.

He wanted to have you, to remember you just the way you always are. One night of bliss. If he’d told you where he was going, it would have ruined it all. So he didn’t.

He made love to you for hours, until you were both marked and sore. He held your face between his palms, pressed his cock deep inside you as if he could hide himself inside of you. His lips and hands mapped the planes of your body, memorizing every detail. The freckles on your skin, the sounds of your pleasure, the taste of your cunt. It wasn’t enough. He felt like he’d lost you and he hadn’t even left.

Marcus stands frozen at your side, watching your bare chest rise and fall in peaceful sleep. Your hand is stretched out across the place on the bed where he’s just been, the spot cooling beneath your touch. Thank the gods you haven’t sighed his name in that drowsy rasp. It would surely bring him to his knees.

He aches to kiss you. Just once more, something to remember in the dark days to come. A respite through pain and cold and horror. But if he kisses you the way he wants to, the way he needs to, you’ll become suspicious. And he might not be strong enough to stop. He’ll go on kissing you, abandoning it all to live between your legs.

Despite how much it pains him, he’s steadfast. The same strength that has won him countless victories in battle keeps him from putting his lips to yours. He gives you a few more moments of peace, lets you go on dreaming that your lover is beside you though when your eyes finally open, he’ll be gone.

He carefully pulls on his tunic and collects his armor, strewn about as you’d unlaced each piece and tossed it aside. Guilt twists in his gut as he lingers in the doorway. Your naked form glows in the weak light and he’s sneaking out like a thief in the night without even a goodbye.

You’ll hate him for it. But perhaps that will save you from mourning him.

Thanks for reading. Your comments are always appreciated!!

#marcus acacius #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius fic #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic

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belovedmusings · 6 months

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God’s dead, and that’s all right with me.

Sukuna Ryomen x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part One of the 'Hell and back.' story. Click for story masterlist.

Sukuna Ryomen is the most fearsome syndicate head of the modern day. As such, you never in a million years expected him to wind up at your strip club in a dingy corner of town, but you’re going to make the most of it.

Relevant tags: Mafia! Sukuna, Stripper! Reader, rough sex, rough and sloppy blow job, cum swallowing, cowgirl, unprotected sex, cockwarming, multiple rounds, I don’t use “y/n” for better immersion, AFAB reader

Songs recommended while reading: Gods & Monsters (Lana Del Rey), Slow Down (Chase Atlantic), Swim (Chase Atlantic)

Cross-posted on Ao3.

Read below cut:

Sukuna Ryomen is the most fearsome syndicate head of the modern day. He looms like a storm cloud that threatens to unleash devastating hail at any moment over the city, ruling it with an iron fist. He’s the Two-Faced Demon incarnate, as you’ve heard those around you refer to him, the enigmatic man always addressed as if he was a mythical creature rather than a living, breathing person. He was the richest man in the city with his mountains of dirty money, each finger on his hands tied around the neck of all the local politicians and officials. As such, you never in a million years expected him to wind up at your stripclub in a dingy corner of town, so far away from the luxury of the inner city.

He stands out like a beacon in the night, with his sunset-colored hair and white suit, which is really only slacks and a blazer, shirt forgone to display the large black markings of his tattoos instead.

In your little corner on the outskirts of town, no one remotely interesting has ever come into the club. It’s usually slimy, older men, married and greedy for what they can’t have, salivating like dogs in heat for a glimpse at bodies that exist just out of their reach.

Sukuna is a reprieve from that. Someone young and gorgeous, with an aura of danger…and you’re attracted to him like a moth to a flame. So, you decide to move in on him—he’ll probably never be here again, so why don’t you have some fun with it?

You saunter towards the section he’s sitting in, a booth against the wall, deciding to walk by and glance at him for a second, enticement in your eyes but no need on your lips.

It works.

“Hey,” His deep, chalant voice calls to you. You pause, turning back around, leaning against the separator of his booth to the next.

“Hey,” You echo smoothly. The edge of his mouth turns up, interest flickering in his appraising eyes as he takes in your form.

“How much for a dance?”

“Twenty.”

A tilt of his head. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

You hum. “Sukuna Ryomen. Who doesn’t?”

“And you’re not gouging me?”

At that, you just snort. “Gouge you? I’m gonna enjoy dancing for you, I don’t need to gouge.”

He raises a brow, then his hand is up and he’s beckoning you towards him with a finger. “I gotta come to a shoddy little hole like this more often.”

You don’t reply to him, you just swing a leg up onto the booth in the seat beside him, waiting for him to tuck the cash into your garter. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing the small leather wallet from within and producing a twenty-dollar bill. As prompted, he slides it into your garter, brushing his calloused fingers over the skin of your thigh before you grab the pole beside you and hoist yourself up, beginning your dance.

You never get this much enjoyment out of performing for any man. They’re all the same, gross and worn-out, but Sukuna…there’s a fire in his eyes. Usually, you’re watched with impersonal hunger, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s appreciative, calculated, controlled. He’s savoring every shape he finds in your body with his eyes, and it feels so good. By the end of it, you can feel yourself pulsing with arousal, the bottom of your skimpy lace set damp with the evidence.

It’s not lost on him; once you finish, slinking down with your legs parted to cage his body between your heels, ass on the cold wood of the table, he grabs your hips and pulls you into him abruptly, causing you to gasp.

“I can see how wet you are,” He murmurs under his breath, pushing you down into the evident bulge in his pants. It’s rock hard, and you have half a mind to maul him there in the lounge.

Immediately the security guard nearest to you springs into action, ready to intervene, but you hold a hand up to him.

“It’s okay,” You reassure him, feeling Sukuna’s palm shamelessly gripping at the flesh of your ass. “It’s welcome.”

“Mmm, welcome?” Purrs Sukuna, drawing your attention immediately away from the guard and making you forget all about him. “Just how welcome am I?”

You suck in a breath, meeting his eyes, such a brilliant, unusual brown that they appear almost red. You can only think one thought–fuck it.

“We have private rooms,” You inform him breathlessly, “…if you want.”

That pulls a breathy chuckle out of him, and he huffs, amused. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, sweetheart.”

It’s sort of hard for you to recall the time it takes for you to get off of him, take his hand, and lead him to the hallway where you enter an empty room, locking it behind the two of you.

You’ve never been back to one of these with a customer, and immediately it reminds you of a motel bedroom, old wallpaper on the walls, worn carpet, and nothing but a bed and side table placed in the center with sheets and no comforter. Dingy, seedy, and for one purpose only.

He hums, sitting down on the edge. “This place is no Vixens for sure.”

The name of an upscale club closer to the center of the city. You laugh softly, choosing to be bold and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass immediately, as if they’ve been there a million times.

“It’s not,” You agree, “I’m no Vixen girl.”

“Mmm, I’m not missing out on much,” He grins wolfishly, admiring your figure again. “They all start to look the same once you realize they have the same surgeon. Don’t know how many girls’ bodies I’ve paid for over there by now.”

“A frequent visitor, then?” You ask, running a hand over his chest. He laughs haughtily.

“Like you have room to talk. I’m just another client.”

The smile you give him is full of chagrin. “I don’t actually take anyone back here. You’re the first.”

“Oh, I won’t believe that, but nice try,” He holds your chin between his index and thumb. “Now…it seems I’ve ensnared my prey for tonight.”

The predatory edge to his gaze should scare you, but if you do feel fear it quickly converts to arousal. If the way the world works is truly survival of the fittest, you’d be the first to go. You know that now for sure.

Sukuna Ryomen is not a gentleman, but then again, you dance naked for a living so you aren’t a saint either. Two souls, both sold, entwining within the heady musk of a room fortified with filth. You only serve to add to it.

He puts you on your knees first. It takes him no time at all to pull his cock out, hot, heavy, and thick beyond belief, with a length that sets your insides ablaze when you can wrap both hands around it and still see the tip.

“Suck,” is all he commands, and like a concubine determined to service her master, you get to work.

You may not usually offer sex for money like some of the other girls at your club, but you’re far from inexperienced.

With him, you feel like you can be as bold as you want and he’ll enjoy it. So you just go for it.

You part your lips and take him in, sliding the large cock back to your throat where the gag reflex has long been evicted.

He groans, grabbing you by the back of the head and forcing you to stay down. You moan, the vibrations adding fuel to his fire, and he pulls you back for a moment.

“Breathe now, because you’re not comin’ up again until I say.”

That and five more seconds is the only warning you get before he slams you back down, starting to properly fuck your face.

It’s a blur of push, pull, stretch, gasp for an immeasurable amount of time, the musky taste of his skin mixing with the salt of his precum running down your burning throat on its own volition, swallowing only triggered when he thrusts particularly hard.

You can vaguely feel the tears running down your face, not from discomfort but from reaction alone; he’s conducting your body as if you’re a symphony and he alone holds the baton, cueing your every move.

“Fuck,” he hisses, looking down at you with sharp eyes. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You make an incoherent, garbled noise, your own arousal dripping down your thighs at this point, effectively ruining your set for the night. You won’t be able to dance in it after this, although, if this keeps up you won’t be able to dance tonight at all.

He throws his head back and gives you a guttural groan, hot, bitter seed pouring down your throat in thick rivulets.

Sukuna straightens back out and looks down at you. “Clean it up. Every last drop.”

You moan, sucking on him just to be sure you collect it all, and only then does he pull off.

“Tongue. Show me you swallowed.”

Obediently, you do just that, lips puffy and abused but tongue clean of cum.

“Good.”

He sniffs. Sitting back down on the bed, laying sideways, and regarding you for a moment, still on your knees and almost shaking with how turned on and untouched you are.

“You haven’t gotten any pleasure, huh?” He asks, leaning on his hand thoughtfully. You nod, clearing your throat.

“I’m,” it comes out raspy and hoarse. He guffaws, a salacious grin playing on his face. You try again. “I’m soaking.”

“Yeah?” He asks, casual and uncaring. “Hmm…I could toss you my cash and leave you here like I usually do…let you take care of it yourself…”

You wait to hear the other option, begging him to choose whatever it is as long as he gives you something.

“Or…I could reward you…since I enjoyed you so thoroughly…though I have to warn you, it’s not for the weak.”

Interest flares inside you. “I’m not weak.”

“Oh, well, you did take what I just gave you like a champ, so I suppose,” He acknowledges with a shrug.

The room is silent for a moment before he hums decidedly. “Get up here. Kneel in front of my face.”

And you do so. He hums, eyeing you without an ounce of shame.

“You are quite wet. Look at your thighs, all shiny and sloppy.”

You don’t have time to reply, because he suddenly reaches out, pushing two of his fingers inside of you deeply. A gasp leaves your lips, but he ignores it.

“Pussy’s tight and soaked,” He states as if giving an appraisal. He looks up into your eyes, beginning to pump his digits in and out slowly, making sure to press hard every time they slide in. “Think you can take my cock inside?”

Your heart begins pounding in your chest. There’s not another man like him, you can’t explain it. Nodding, you say, “I can.”

“Eager,” He laughs, amused. “You’d probably do it for free, wouldn’t you?”

A shameful red blooms across your face, and you suddenly feel self-conscious. He chuckles, low and breathy. He grips your chin firmly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll compensate you prettily for your work,” He almost cooes, letting you go and laying down on his back. “You will work for it, though. I already got my fill.”

You become perplexed. “How?”

He glances down to his soft cock, laying against his abdomen, then back at you expectantly.

“You want it, come and get it.”

It dawns on you that if you want any sort of satisfaction tonight, you’re going to have to do the work. Fine, then. One of the perks of doing this line of work is the ability to easily shake off any shame. You want what you want and you’re gonna take it.

The first thing you do is lose the platforms adorning your feet, their weight dropping with a satisfying ‘thunk’ to the floor.

You then straddle his hips, taking his flaccid cock in hand and, after moving your soaked g-string aside, take him by surprise by slipping him inside of you just like that. He breathes in deeply, sensitive no doubt, and you start rolling your hips to get him hard, removing the straps of your skimpy top and exposing your breasts to him.

“Heh,” A crooked smile adorns his lips, “You were born to do this, weren’t you?”

You’re starting to think you were too, but not just for any man. The kind of guys that come in here are nowhere near Sukuna Ryomen. For him only, you can become whoever you are right now.

You nod, feeling him begin to harden inside of you, the sensation sending hot shivers cascading down your spine. As you begin to get more into it, he follows suit, hands exploring your body. First they fondle the malleable flesh of your breasts, then down your waist, your hips, gripping it tightly. You mewl, speeding up, his dick now stiff inside of you. He’s huge but it definitely helped to start out with him soft, because now he’s locked in, and all you have to do is move.

Wanting to feel more, you raise yourself up on him and drop back down harshly, the depths of you intruded by his length. It makes you release a cry, and before you can recover, his hands have found your ass, gripping it so hard it hurts. He starts to guide you faster on his cock, arm muscles straining beneath the fabric of his blazer.

“Sukuna,” The name leaves your lips before you can stop it, and for a moment you think you’ve messed up until he doubles down on his efforts, groaning deeply in his throat.

“Fuck,” He hisses, “Say it again.”

“Sukuna,” it comes out even more debauched than the first one, and slaps your ass hard, the sting causing you to flutter around him, his hips stuttering with the effort to move in such a confined space.

“You’re fucking tight…”

All you can do is whimper, not even participating in the movements anymore, just letting them happen to you, taking whatever he decides to give you.

He seems to notice this, because your back meets the sheets in the same breath, the syndicate head suddenly on top of you.

With the new leverage, he really begins drilling into you, and desperate, obscene drawls start pouring from your lips, so loud and abandoned that if the music wasn’t so loud in the lounge, someone would surely come looking for you in concern.

His hands are on the backs of your knees, pushing them down, folding you in half without regard for whether you can bend that way or not, and he’s screwing you so absolutely hard that the coil inside you begins winding without any touch at all.

“Sukuna,” You mewl, completely wrecked now, “Gonna cum…”

“Fuck,” He grunts, “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

Your response is a choked moan, and all it takes are the three subsequent, hard snaps of his hips for you to shout his name, cumming so hard your body shakes.

“Shit,” Sukuna seethes through his teeth, pulling out and jerking himself off a few times before his second load paints your abdomen and thighs, staining the parts of your set it lands on, and you feel yourself clenching on nothing, gaping in the absence of his shape.

The sharp-eyed man takes in the sight of you for a moment before climbing off of you and getting to his feet. He walks over to the lone nightstand in the room, grabbing the tissue box and tossing it onto the bed, grabbing a few for himself to clean up.

You sit up, taking your own tissues and cleaning yourself off.

“Gotta say,” He breaches the silence after the tissues are disposed, your lingerie readjusted as good as you could get it. “I ain’t fucked like that in a long time.”

A loose smirk slides over your lips. “Me neither.”

He moves over to you, holding out a wad of cash. Your eyes widen–the girls that do take clients into private rooms usually make a hundred or two hundred at best per man, and what you see in front of you is easily at least a couple thousand.

“Don’t be shy now,” He says, “I’m loaded and you worked for it.”

He’s not wrong. You won’t deny him.

Once it’s in your hands, he flashes you another grin. “It was fun, uh…?”

You realize he’s prompting for your name, so you give it to him. He repeats it, the contours of his voice giving it a quality you’ve never heard before when other people say it.

“Hope to see you again,” He says, heading for the door.

You watch him go, replying with, “you know where to find me.”

He hums, looking back at you for a moment with that confident simper before he exits.

Once you’re alone again, you take a look at the stack of cash, taking a look at how much he gave you. Three thousand.

“Holy shit,” You gasp, eyeing the money with bulging eyes. That’s an entire good week’s worth and then some.

You look back up at the door, thoughts echoing his last words to you.

Hope to see you again.

A/N: my first Sukuna piece!! I love how this turned out...and yes, this will be a series.

So excited for this new story. Something about a stripper and a syndicate man just works for me. I had to sugar-coat him a lil but he's still Sukuna... p.s. doing research, I learned "Ryomen" isn't Sukuna's name technically, but the name of a folktale/mythical demon? So it's kinda funny using that as his last name but for purposes, we'll just role with it lmao

In true D fashion, it's going to be full of drama, so comment here or on the masterlist for updates!

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #sukuna x you #sukuna headcanons #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #hell and back fic

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mustainegf · 3 months

Note

This is prob overdone, but it’s AMAZING.

‘99 vampire Kirk and the reader meet in a bar and Kirk takes her home and fucks her senseless ❤️ she is very into the vampire shit ❤️ lots of marking and biting. Maybe blood drinking ❤️ splendid ❤️

THIS IS SO COOL??? HOLY SHIT

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mention of blood, blood sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of masochism, vampire sex

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 ‘𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑’ 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐓 ¹⁹⁹⁹

It was dark, the type of bar where you weren't sure if you should be there, and secrets were whispered with the smoke. I slid onto a vacant stool at the countertop, and the basses from the jukebox started booming into the blood that flowed through my veins.

The place was rather empty, but I had come in for one thing, and that was to get away from the everyday.

It was then that I first felt his eyes on me. Slouched against the wall opposite, his very dark eyes roamed with a look just about deadly. He had more to him, something almost dangerous. His long black curls and lean frame were unmistakable.

Kirk Hammett, guitarist from Metallica. There was something more about him tonight, though, it was like this air of mystery that really pulled me in like a moth into flame.

I took a deep breath, felt the heat rise in my cheeks, and walked over to him. My heart was thrumming out a bet far louder than the music in my ears while I advanced on him. His eyes met mine then, and a slow, wicked smile curved his supple lips.

"Hey," I said, trying to be casual, but it emerged from my lips all wrong.

"Hey yourself," he said, his voice like a low, velvety purr. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this, hm?"

"Just looking for trouble," I said boldly, feeling a little slice at his sharp gaze.

He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver crawling down my spine like a frail spider. "Well, you've found it."

The next thing I knew, we were hailing a cab to go to his place. The pressure between us pulsed minutely, almost deadly in that small space. His hand lay casually on my thigh, the fingers making lazy circles that sent ripples up my skin.

We had hardly entered his apartment, a dark, Gothic decor for which seemed tailor made, when the door had already slammed behind us, but he had me pressed against the wall, his mouth covering mine in a very quick, possessive kiss. His hands cantered like fire across my body, and with every touch, the burning grew.

"You're sure about this?" he murmured against my lips, his breath practically burning. "I'm not all you think I am."

"More than sure," I said, my voice breathy and in need of anything he would give me. "I want this. I want you."

A growl rumbled from deep within his chest, a very primitive sound that sent a shock through me. Scooping me up, he carried me into the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed, using a strength that belied his lean frame. Standing over me, his eyes blazed with something so primal.

"You're mine tonight," he said, the promise in his voice so very black.

"Yes..." I whispered, having no defenses against him.

He crawled onto the bed, his body covering mine and leaving me in his shadow. He had his hands everywhere, exploring, claiming, taking.

"You taste so good," he muttered against my skin as his lips trailed down my neck. "I can hear your heart racing. Scared?."

I gasped when his teeth caught my skin, just a hint of what was to come. "Please," I begged.

"Patience, my love," he said with a low, dark chuckle. "I'm going to take my time with you."

His hands found the hem of my black dress, pulling it up and over my head. He took a moment to admire my body, his eyes sharpening in a way that was almost animalistic. Then he was on me again, his mouth claiming mine as his hands explored every inch of my exposed skin.

"You're so beautiful, darling," he murmured against my lips. "So perfect."

I moaned, arching into his touch. "Please, Kirk. I need you."

He chuckled again, dangerously. "Oh, you'll have me. Every last bit of me."

He smiled down at my vulnerable figure. His teeth looking much sharper than before, his pupils dialated in pure hunger.

With that, he moved down, his mouth finding the sensitive spot at the base of my neck. This time, his teeth grated against the skin, and I cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain. He licked the spot soothingly before biting down, his fangs piercing my sensitive skin.

It was an inexpressible feeling, a sharp, pinch of pain that eventually turned to a flood of pleasure. I felt his mouth on me, drinking deeply, and felt my arousal raise another notch as he groaned.

He pulled back, licking the wound clean. "You taste better than I thought you would, darling," he said, voice heavy.

"More," I begged, my body shaking with need.

"As you wish," he replied, his eyes flashing with ill intent.

He moved lower, his mouth finding my breasts. He sucked and nipped at my nipples, sending things straight to my core. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as he devoured my body with his lips, leaving dark hickies.

I was shaking, quivering by the time he finally moved between my legs. His mouth found my most sensitive spot and I cried out when he licked and sucked, driving me to the edge of madness. I tangled fingers in his curly hair.

"Kirk, please," I begged, my voice barely audible to him between my legs. "I need you inside me."

He lifted his glance to mine, eyes blazed. "You're mine," he said, low, growling. "Every inch of you."

Hequickly sat up and tore off his black jeans and boxers. I stared at his erection, he had a nice dick, probaby a good 7 inches, dark pink tip and a few small veins twirling up his shaft.

Kirk pressed himself at my entrance, and I yelped as he thrust into me, filling me nearly to the hilt. It was perfect, pleasure and pain blending together in equal measures.

"You're so fuckin' tight," he groaned, his hands gripping my hips. "So perfect for me, aren't ya?"

I could only moan in return, lost to the stretch of him inside me. He bent down, his mouth reaching my neck once more. This time, he bit hard, his fangs deep inside my flesh. The pain was exquisite, a sharp shock that sent me spinning into my mind.

He sucked deeply, the thrusts of his body becoming more urgent as he fed. I felt the life draining out of me with every pulse; the blood was replaced by a dark, unending lust that consumed me. I clung to him, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm, as I unexpectedly came, spasming around his girth.

When he finally drew back, I was quivering and gasping for breath. He licked at the 2nd wound he had made, his eyes nearly black and full of satisfaction. "All mine," he growled.

"Yes," I whispered, complelty captured by him now.

He kissed me hard, tongue probing my mouth with an almost feral need. The taste of my own blood on his lips was someting I never knew I needed.

"All mine," he repeated, his voice a dark promise. "Forever."

And in that instant, I knew it was true. I was his completely. Bound to him, inextricably, by blood and by desire, that now would never set me free.

#mustainegf #fanfic #reqs open #fanfiction #request #metallica #smut #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction #metallica fluff #kirk hammett x you #kirk hammett smut #kirk hammett fluff #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett imagines #metallica smut #metallica imagines #kirk hammett #oneshot

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o-sachi · 1 month

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Sk8er Boi - Drabble (Request)

ᯓ confessions? whuzzat? clearly, neither of you know what that is ᯓ character; shidou ryusei (blue lock) ᯓ tags; mutual pining, angsty?, shidou is a menace, afab reader, no y/n, sfw, based on Avril Lavigne's song Sk8r Boi

[🐟]: Idk what I did with this tbh.

He was a boy She was a girl Can I make it anymore obvious?

Shidou Ryusei. The pink-haired lunatic. The freak.

People knew him by several names and people knew him through several reasons... most of which aren't good. Your friends, your family, everyone who knew that you knew him—would all say the same thing. Don't get yourself involved with that guy.

But you could never ever find it in yourself to not get involved with Shidou Ryusei. You were like a feeble and naive moth prancing around his raging flame. You teetered on the precipice between bravery and downright stupidity. Not that it mattered to you. Truth be told, you thought Shidou Ryusei was a nice guy.

You had your reasons, of course.

He was a punk She did ballet What more can I say?

No, you didn't do ballet. Hell, you can't really dance. But Shidou? He was a full-blown punk—through and through. His personality, the way he dresses, the people he surrounds himself with—there's no denying it. If you extracted his blood and got it tested, it would come back with the results of 70% Monster energy drinks and 30% cigarette butts.

Though he wasn't a low-level punk. In his bad crowd, he was hailed as their king. Perhaps this was a testament to his wickedness. But for you, it made him feel like a legend—a myth untouched that you could only dream of coming close to. There was a word for this... romanticizing? Delusion? Kids these days have a term for everything lately.

It remains a mystery why someone like you would vie for someone like him. Maybe after living such a mundane and "proper" life—you were looking for a bit of thrill in your life. Maybe you just made terrible decisions.

But nothing's bad when it comes to love, right?

He wanted her She'd never tell Secretly she wanted him as well

Rowdy as he is—Shidou loved pretty things. He loved acquiring them—making them his and only his. It just so happens you were one of those pretty things he had the greatest pleasure of laying his eyes on.

And Shidou Ryusei hated two things. One, children when they start infesting the local skate park which he lovingly calls his "second home." And two, when the pretty little thing that he likes is being threatened.

When he saw your face contort in fear being surrounded by a bunch of other punks—that all too familiar itch to go punch something flared up within him. It happened way too fast. Even though your eyes darted from side-to-side, trying to make sense of what was happening—Shidou was simply too quick.

Too quick at jumping into action and too quick to fall in love.

Well, he called it love. But it was more of a deep and carnal infatuation. But never mind that—all he knew was that he wanted you. This was his way of showing you exactly that.

His ego inflated for every second your eyes remained fixated over his triumphant form. He stood above the defeated men who were just threatening you a few minutes ago. Shidou was your savior and it was only right for you to show him your gratitude now.

And like a play, the roles were filled. Others might say you were too eager.

"Thank you... for saving me," you managed to stutter it out. Your hands shook, probably from the surge of adrenaline.

He smirked. It was one of the three facial expressions he had after all. But everything was going according to his plan—a plan that consisted of a mere 2 steps: to save you then to make you his.

Simple, but reaching. Although, for Shidou Ryusei, he believed everything was possible with his own two hands.

He held out his calloused hand for you to take, pulling you up back to your feet. "It was nothing. Just glad I could help a damsel in distress."

"I... I don't know how I can repay you..."

He brought those same calloused hands to your face, heat radiating off of his dirtied palms. His thumbs pressed the corners of your lips, forcibly (but gently) pushing it into a smile—the same smile he fell in love at first sight with.

"That's about right. Just wanna see you smile again."

In that moment you had no words because there wasn't a single string of words that could contain what you felt. Perhaps you two had a thing in common after all—you were both too quick to fall in love.

He was a skater boy She said, "See you later, boy" He wasn't good enough for her

The first people to notice your budding romance was actually Shidou's friends. Quite ironic, by the way, that his friends intimidated you but not Shidou—not the man who was supposedly scarier than all of them combined. But maybe there was an explanation behind it.

The simple fact was that—his friends did not like you.

Sure, you were pretty, sweet, and the kind of girl a guy could take home to his mother. But that was exactly it. You were too good and it was slowly and surely changing their leader.

All of a sudden, Shidou's time was divided between their usual activities and courting you—whether that meant "accidentally" bumping into you at random places and being present whenever you needed some assistance.

"You see, she's a no go. Like c'mon, man. What are you gonna do once her parents find out about you? Think they're gonna open their doors for you? Tough luck, man."

Shidou sat back and hoisted up his feet on the table. "Don't need her parents to like me. If she likes me then that's all that matters."

His friends looked at each other, knowing what everyone else was thinking at the moment. "Well, do you even know if she likes you?"

...

"I'll worry about that when I have to," he shrugs.

That was the end of the discussion. As much as they disliked your presence in their lives, they knew better than to question his fondness for you. Shidou has fought for you before and he's not afraid to do it again... and again... and again—for as long as he had to.

But what if you didn't like him back? What then? Would there even be a fight for him to engage in? There wouldn't.

It's been a while since he felt this way—the feeling that gripped his heart and wrung it dry. The feeling that made him want to slam his fists into a wall until his knuckles were down to the bone.

It was the feeling of fear.

She had a pretty face But her head was up in space She needed to come back down to Earth

You were no better, of course. In many ways, it was like the two of you were made for each other. That is, if we were talking about how both of you became crippled with fear at the thought of rejection.

Fate worked in funny ways and its humor was evident with how your heart desperately chased for the man you couldn't have.

When you were with him, you were on cloud 9. But you never had a chance of staying up there too long. There were people that pulled you down from your fantasy land as soon as they saw the changes in you.

Shidou was careful enough at least to catch you at times when others wouldn't have to see you. But you've been with him too much that he was starting to rub off on you.

And it showed. The people around you knew because you wore your heart on your sleeve.

Then the same words echoed in your mind: Do not get involved with Shidou Ryusei no matter what.

Don't.

Just don't.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #shidou x reader #shidou ryusei #blue lock shidou

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ratcandy · 22 days

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Big Huge Irritated Rant About The Latest COTL Update's Story Choices and the Implications

So the lore drop in the new Cult of the Lamb update, Unholy Alliance, pisses me off. The writer's confirmation of what that lore drop means pisses me off more.

Why? Because it's unnecessary recontextualization that was made pretty obviously in favor in one character in particular, and somehow in that process makes that very same character way less interesting. I think it's incredibly detrimental to the story and I will Explain Why in a second.

But before I do, I just want to put this out there: Prior to this update, my opinions on the Bishops and Narinder and that entire plotline were pretty neutral. I'm an NPC enjoyer, I spend my time thinking about that moth with two lines of dialogue. I did not previously have strong opinions on Narinder or Shamura outside of mild dislike for fandom treatment. So I'm not coming from a place of bias here (or at the very least I'm not trying to be). I genuinely, wholeheartedly, 100% believe this writing decision was unnecessary and the Wrong one to make, and I think it severely undercuts the original plotline because this was a retcon and one that sucks pretty bad.

Ok we're on the same page here? Ok awesome. Long rant ahead, and obvs spoilers for the Unholy Alliance update

So first, what the hell am I talking about? What part of the update do I not like? Let's clarify that first.

It's Shamura's dialogue. Like, all of it. For ease of understanding, here is all the dialogue I will be talking about:

"Ah... we gathered here, the four of us, a council of war and I the general. I have not forgot. I did not tell them that chains to bind a God must be forged of Godly matters. What matter of Gods? What matters of Gods? I have not forgot. The betrayal of kin, the breaking of spirits, blood spilled, his and ours. ...the sacrifice of what we had sacrificed so much for... ...shaped into shackles for our own brother. And our wounds always to weep. Such sharp claws..."

"He sought to break nature's own laws. Death was his, yet he placed his sacred duty in peril. His experiments... Experiments I encouraged. I am not... blameless. My soul, stained... yet I do not... Ah, The story. Yes the story... He wanted to open the doors between Life and Death, to... to allow their return. Those mere... mortals. Even though he knew their sacrifices, their faith, their fears sustain us. Death must be the end. Otherwise, what use would they have for Gods? They began to flock to him. What he promised, we could not match. He swelled with devotion... while we waned. Would he have let us perish? I could not take... the risk... the hunger... You are lucky there are none left to force such a choice on you. Hail, Lamb. Last God... lonely God... Ah... I feel... unburdened..."

And for fun, before anyone tells me I'm misinterpreting any of this or that it's left up to interpretation or is intentionally vague, Word of God (the writer of CoTL):

And it's this being Word of God that's spurred me into making this post to begin with. Because prior to this, I just seethed about this dialogue's implications in my server and hoped I was wrong. But now it's been confirmed what this means, and I'm . Disgruntled, to say the least!

And since I've started writing this post, there's been another addition made to further clarify parts of this. But I'm going to go over that addition more towards the end, because it also irritates me for separate reasons.

So, let's get this straight.

Prior to this update, the specifics of what happens between Narinder and the Bishops were pretty vague. We were told Narinder was "gluttonous in his ambition," per Shamura's previous dialogue, and that they "introduced him to ideas of change" but "Death cannot flow backward." Heket somewhat elaborates on this by saying he preached "heresy" and "noxious ideals" that would not be tolerated. Heket also notably refers to Narinder as a flat-out "monster." Narinder attacked his siblings and left them each with a big, symbolic wound. Then he was chained by the four of them, with Shamura the one to lead it (in their own words).

There's a lot of talk of betrayal, but before this update, it was unclear if the betrayal was meant to just be Narinder's experimenting with death (which even then was pretty heavily suggested to be resurrections) or the wounds inflicted upon his siblings. There's also a lot of talk of sacrifice, i.e. from Leshy if you kill Heket before him: "After everything we did. After everything we sacrificed. He will not be satiated."

Regardless, the picture this painted was of Narinder being this ambitious, evil, violent God that even his fellow Gods (Kallamar) feared and felt needed controlling. The idea that the wounds could have been in the nail in the coffin to this entire ordeal made sense; as they were obviously planned by Narinder to some extent (otherwise why be so intentional about who got what wound?) and a fair reaction to Being Mutilated would of course be to chain him.

Then of course there's the idea that the wounds were given while he was being chained and in self-defense, which only seems possible if you think Narinder could take on all four of his siblings at once like that and only manage to lose his claws in the ordeal (which was only revealed in this update to be something he's implied to have lost thru the relic). I thought this at first too, but realized it seems pretty impractical for that to have been the case if the wounds were also purposeful in who got what. I mean, sure, they could all be coincidentally symbolically appropriate for each Bishop, but I have doouuubts?

but now we're here, with this update, and all has been revealed.

And what's been revealed exactly?

Narinder's thing he was doing was indeed resurrections (we knew that)

Shamura encouraged him to do it (we also already knew this)

It seems like he did literally nothing else outside of that

His siblings got pissy about this because it made their domains purposeless and got all their followers to flock to him

"Would he let us perish? I could not take the risk" - Implies they literally did not even ask him

Shamura knew that in order to forge chains that could keep Narinder down, it would require a sacrifice of their bonds AND their flesh

They DID NOT tell the other Bishops this

Their wounds were requirements to chain him. They had to get the wounds they bear now in order to chain him. ONLY Shamura knew this. That means they allowed their siblings (and themself) to get attacked knowing full well what would happen. They may have even encouraged it, perhaps provoked Narinder into it, seeing as they knew the wounds were necessary to have him chained. (Or they just knew he would retaliate. Which, like. Yeah. They're condemning him after he went down a path they encouraged and, as far as we can tell, nothing else.)

And for... what?

In this version of the story, Narinder was experimenting with resurrections, and Shamura told him to keep doing that. Then he was successful, mortals turned to him, and his siblings (including Shamura, the one who told him to do it) got mad. That's it. That's their reasoning for chaining him. There's nothing else given. "Would they perish?" We have no idea. Is that how it works? Seems like Shamura doesn't know either. Or at the very least doesn't know if Narinder intended for that at all. Gives the vibe that literally no effort was made to talk to him and figure this out. They don't even really go down the "it puts nature out of balance!" path, which would at least have some merit, maybe. It's literally just "we are no longer sustained. What's the point of Gods in this world?" <- idk babe you had all the other ones slaughtered. So you tell me

And then Shamura just took it into their own hands, leading their siblings to their shared wounds (WITHOUT consulting them) and their inevitable destruction because of........... reasons, I guess. (I mean, if you think about it really hard, they probably also already knew what would happen following all this. With the lamb genocide and Narinder's resurfacing and etc. And they had their siblings wounded anyway. For no god damn reason)

And now why does this make me mad?

Because, honestly, in and of itself, there's not anything necessarily wrong with this added context. It's not contradicting anything in the main game. Shamura knowing what was needed makes sense, after all.

But it's... unnecessary. It screws up the motives and makes them more shallow, less nuanced, more... petty. Making gods petty is cool and all, I love doing that honestly, but in this case it just feels like a waste of potential.

But beyond all that. But most importantly.

This entire recontextualization of events REEKS of being made specifically to absolve Narinder.

I mean, come on. He's made out to be the victim, here. Shamura knew what he would do, knew what he would become, and knew exactly what would happen to their siblings if they sought to chain him (without doing so much as talking to him beforehand), and yet they encouraged it.

All blame is being shifted on Shamura. All Narinder did specifically against his siblings was inflict the wounds, which at this point seems to be hinted as self defense or a retaliation against threat or insult (assuming he was provoked into attacking, somehow). Because the wounds were part of the process.

And almost equally irritating, this seeks to arbitrarily absolve Leshy, Kallamar, and Heket as well, as they had no idea what the plan was and were just strung along. Which is just kinda worse, right? As far as they are aware, Narinder did just randomly attack them for no reason, and this wasn't foreseen, and surely couldn't have been stopped. All because Shamura didn't tell them any of it.

Shamura is being made into the big bad. Shamura is at fault for everything, for all of it. Narinder is a victim of Shamura encouraging him down a path they later condemn him for, their siblings are victims of Shamura and Narinder both (the latter of which could have been resolved at any point prior), and now any possible intrigue about Narinder being this big bad guy who tore apart his siblings due to his own ambition getting the best of him is ERASED.

It's GONE. All in favor of making him more sympathetic.

And sure, about a million different excuses could be made for Shamura, or could be used to headcanon whatever you want about exactly what happened. But with what we're given right now, just from the source, no attempt as made to stop Narinder before it got to this point. It is literally suggested they didn't even talk to him.

"Maybe they were too scared" - For the other three, maybe. Shamura is the eldest and clearly the most respected one, by Narinder as well (he holds some amount of respect for them even STILL. After EVERYTHING). They at any point could have stopped this.

"Narinder could still have been a bad guy outside of the attacks" - Sure, but we're given little to nothing on that front. In the old dialogue, literally all that's mentioned is the resurrection stuff and the wounds. Shamura is the one who said his ambition made a glutton of him, by the way. And hell, this isn't even touching the very real possibility that all of the Bishops (Narinder included!) are unreliable as hell.

"But Kallamar feared him even before his chaining, that suggests he was still a bad guy beforehand" - Sure, it could! But that's about all we get! And hell, in this new update, Kallamar's fears are fucked with, too. He states:

"Once, long ago, Followers would worship at my altar just to glimpse the beauty of my temple… of course, it could not last forever. Perhaps my siblings did not understand this, but I have always known. It did not make me less afraid. Cowardly Kallamar, ha…"

Here, it seems Kallamar's fears have been changed to be more about the decline of his temple and the loss of his followers, which was happening because of Narinder. He refers to Narinder's plans as "foolish" as opposed to... idk, horrifying, or threatening, or whatever. He also fully takes on the 'cowardly' title, giving the impression that his fears were somehow unfounded, which wouldn't make a lick of sense if Narinder indeed sucked ass outside of the wounds.

Not to mention he "didn't want to hear it" when Shamura "revealed the plan," but we know because of Shamura that they didn't mention anything about the wounds, so Kallamar didn't want to hear that they... had to chain Narinder? That's literally all he could've been told about the plan. Why wouldn't he want to chain Narinder if he was scared of him up until that point?? Doesn't make any sense!!! EDIT AFTER I POSTED: On reconsideration this might just be referring the lamb genocide plan, but that's hardly better, because now this update absolves Narinder, Leshy, AND Kallamar by making them blameless in everything (both Leshy and Kallamar expressed not fully understanding the plan for the slaughter or, in this case, not wanting part in it). What's up with THAT. Why is Shamura getting the blame for LITERALLY EVERYTHING.

Anyway, my point is

This was a story decision made to make Narinder sympathetic. It's so blatant. And it's so, so irritating. It gets rid of so many potential cool flaws of Narinder and replaces it with "Actually, Shamura was the bad guy the whole time! Huzzah!"

And honestly, had the entire game come out like this to begin with, released at the start how it is right now, I don't think I'd care this much. But being added now, as an afterthought, after the fandom and devs alike have grown to favor Narinder above all others, it just...

It reeks of favoritism. It smells of revising the story to make Narinder more likeable. It's just erasure.

And for what. Like, I don't want to be That Guy, but I cannot help but notice that one of two nonbinary characters (outside of the Lamb/Goat themselves) is being this heavily demonized in favor of absolving a Man of his crimes. What's, uh. What's up with that.

Oh, and that addition by the writer I mentioned was made while I was writing this.

This was made after Jojo was questioned whether this was a retcon as to who caused the wounds, as this whole thing could also certainly be read as Shamura being the one to directly wound their siblings (which I didn't think was the case, but still).

"I don't know if they thought it would be so severe" - How do I put this in a nice way. This feels like a weaseling out answer. This feels like giving Shamura an out only after being questioned on this writing choice. How could they possibly not know how severe it would be. This spider is Knowledge. This spider has Foresight of some kind. And how do you not know what they thought. You are the Writer. If you want to clarify something like this you gotta say it with your full chest.

Not to mention a good portion of the fandom probably won't even see these tweets, so this context is all missing from the story presented in the game. This is Tacked On Context on top of already Tacked On Context. It's unnecessary retconning all the way down.

Anyway. I realize the fandom at large will not care about this, because (and I mean this in the nicest way I can manage) the Narinder favoritism in this fandom is already impenetrable, but for me personally? This retconning that was so clearly done out of that favoritism?

It ruined Narinder's character for me. More than the fandom possibly could have. I mean, if it's fanon, it can be ignored. But this was canonized. Because Narinder is the dev team's favorite guy.

And I can't stand it.

#VERY long ramble #<- i mean it. this post is chunky.#I have a lot of thoughts. And they are not positive. MM dev team when i get you.#Narinder enjoyers beware. I do not like your man and it's because of this update.#If anything I said in the post is unclear please feel free to ask and I will elaborate where I can! I tried to make my thoughts #as clear as possible. but i am also a fulltime college student with a keyboard that is currently retaliating against me.#My brain is a little scattered atm lmao. but if I hold onto this post much longer I might just anxiety myself out of posting it.#because nobody else seems to be having these same critiques. Save for my tiny little discord server where we are all very loud haters.#If you don't agree with me that's awesome 👍 please be normal about it tho if you are arguing i'm begging.#if this post gets any amount of traction I'm going to be wary about having my inbox open hkjsdhg #ok now the scary part.#cult of the lamb #cotl unholy alliance #cotl spoilers #unholy alliance spoilers #<- i don'tknow if that still needs tagging but jic. also I'm wary of tagging characters on here. so for now i won't.#cotl #ok that's it for now. Runs away. Fast

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cambion-companion · 2 years

Note

Hiii can I request Aemond telling his betrothed that he loves her for the first time?

Yes! All the fluff, all the love for this Good BoyTM. You cannot convince me he doesn't have a soft heart under all that trauma and bitterness. God he's gorgeous. ANYWAY enjoy!

Aemond x reader | No content warnings | FLUFF

Rain pattered with a gentle rhythm on the roof of the Red Keep, intermixed with the crackling fireplace before you. You sat on a comfortable sofa, in a secluded corner of the spacious library, your favorite haunt. At this time of night, you were the only soul there gaining you a precious moment of seclusion and peace from all the noises of court.

You did not hail from King’s Landing and found it to be quite oppressive at times, yearning for home became an unfortunately common pastime of yours when your mind was not taken to faraway lands by the many books you’d read in the thick atmosphere of the library. You had been sent to the Red Keep over a year ago, just another girl betrothed to a prince of a noble house. The Targaryen house, to be precise, and soon to be wed to Aemond One Eye, second-born son of King Viserys Targaryen.

You had become close friends with his sister, Helaena, right away after arriving at your new home. She was a delightful girl and had no vice in her heart, much unlike her brother and husband Aegon. You still couldn’t quite figure Aemond out, however. He was obviously more pragmatic than his elder brother, and much more cunning than anyone you had met. The raw intelligence that sparkled behind his one violet eye had drawn you to him as a moth to a flame. You would find yourself, usually an introverted and quiet person, talking quite animatedly with him. Conversation flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you developed no small amount of affection for your betrothed. Thanking the gods silently it was Aemond, and not Aegon, with whom you were to be married.

He knew you better than you perceived and watched you intently when you were unaware, feigning disinterest whenever you looked at him. In your turn, you watched him with equal interest, especially when he trained with Sir Criston Cole in the courtyard. Aemond was tall and lithe, as one of the mountain cats from your home, dodging each attack with fluid movements. He wore a leather eyepatch over where his left eye once had been, a vertical scar running down his face. His hair was long and straight, of typical Targaryen silver, and the way it moved around his shoulders and back often hypnotized you.

You had once asked him what the secret to such beautiful hair was and he had laughed, a lovely sound you thought.

“I have no secret care routine, if that’s what you’re asking me Y/N.” Aemond had looked at you fondly. “I will count on you to help me keep it, what was it you said, ‘shining and lustrous’?”

Your eyes glazed as you got lost in giddy memories of him. For all the talk at court, you could not imagine Aemond as being indifferent or cruel. He was arrogant at times, certainly, and could be cool in demeanor if a mood hit him but with you…he was softer.

Gods be good…you thought to yourself, I love him.

You heaved a shaky sigh and with a snap closed the book that had been sitting uselessly on your legs.

“Must be a dull story to garner such distain.”

You stifled a small shriek, whipping your head towards the intruder. “Aemond! You nearly scared the life out of me, what are you doing here?”

“It’s a library, is it not?” Aemond approached you and sat, holding his own dusty volume. “I couldn’t sleep so I came here to read, much like you I’m assuming.”

You nodded, rubbing your tired eyes with a hand. “I’ve had too much to think about, sleep is rather evasive these days.”

Aemond studied your face intently, the book he had brought remained unopened next to him. “What is it that is vexing my lady so?”

Your hands fell to your skirts, twisting the fabric as you looked back at him. “I think you know, Aemond.”

“Ah. So, it’s about our soon-to-be union.”

“To be blunt, yes.”

“You do not wish for it.”

You blinked, taken aback. “I…what?”

“You do not wish to be married to me.” Aemond’s voice was matter of fact, like this was something he had already accepted. “I will not say I’m surprised. No lady looks upon this face and thinks ‘oh yes, the man without an eye. I wish him to be my lord husband’.”

You stared at him, your mouth slightly open. Aemond seemed to register your confusion because he stopped talking abruptly, his angular face tilting slightly.

“You seem to know my thoughts better than I do, my prince.” You replied coolly, emphasizing the title he had asked you not to use in place of his name.

“I apologize if I have given offense, Y/N.” Aemond seemed genuinely taken aback. “You have been distant of late, and I am overused to being looked upon with either pity or disgust.”

“I don’t look upon you with either.” You touched Aemond’s hand lightly with your own, his eye dropped to appraise it, before interlocking his long fingers with yours.

“You…mean a great deal to me, Y/N. I have grown to treasure the moments we have together.” His words trailed off as if he meant to say more but couldn’t bring himself to.

“You can tell me anything, you know.” You encouraged him, a smile in your voice.

Aemond’s eye snapped up to your face, drinking in your features with a tenderness you had not seen before. “When I claimed Vhagar, I thought I had gained everything I wanted. Everything I’d ever want.” His fingers tightened around yours briefly. “Then I met you and I found myself…wanting.” Aemond reached forward with his other hand and caressed your face, tracing your jaw and making you shiver. “I want you, Y/N.”

“I am not a dragon to be claimed, Aemond.” You said softly.

His curved mouth twitched upwards at your words, “Indeed you are not. Though at times when you are angry, I wonder if you could breathe fire.” His thumb moved to press lightly against your bottom lip. “I love…I love you.” The confession seemed to cost Aemond a great deal of effort and you could hear his breath quicken.

You inhaled sharply, letting his words linger in the air between you two. Your heart beat an erratic rhythm against your chest, surely he could hear it.

Aemond stirred with impatience, his grip on your chin tightened. “Do not leave me sitting here in agony, Y/N. Tell me what that beautiful mind of yours is thinking right now.”

You smiled then, soft and bright, emotion welling behind your eyes. You raised a hand to grasp him gently around his wrist. “I love you too, Aemond. I want you to be mine, to become yours. I want to have a life with you, a family, a home.”

Aemond wrapped his arms about you, pulling you into him and placing a warm kiss to your forehead. “You shall have all that and more, my heart. With me, you will want for nothing.”

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