#The girl the king and the monster they became

[alphasrainbow]

The Shepherd King dedications slap

One Dark Window

Two Twisted Crowns

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Protector

Requested by @captaincvans

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector

It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”

To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.

“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”

“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.

Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.

…

Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.

So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.

A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.

So you stayed behind.

But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.

…

“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“

“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”

“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”

“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”

“Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.

“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.

“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”

“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”

The screaming stopped again.

“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”

“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“

“I think we’re done here.”

The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.

…

“We got a location.”

Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.

“Finally, let’s go.”

“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”

“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.

“The plan is get her back.”

…

You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.

However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.

Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.

“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“

Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.

“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.

“Dean?”

Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.

“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.

There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.

“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.

Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.

“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.

“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”

Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.

“Alright, I’ll drive.”

…

“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.

“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.

“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.

“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.

“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”

Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.

“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”

You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.

“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.

“You…but you were gone for three days.”

“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.

“Dean, it’s not your fault.”

He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.

“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”

“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“

“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”

“Then say it.”

Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

…

“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.

“I’m ok,” you insisted.

“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.

Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.

He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.

You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.

The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.

“I’m ok.”

…

You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.

So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.

You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.

“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.

After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.

He was your protector, always.

But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying, For someone I could die for, someone I could try for Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."

-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi

II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC

The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear. 

The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls. 

Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink. 

It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings. 

Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess. 

The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly. 

You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired. 

Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned. 

So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm. 

Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was  always someone else.  

A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run. 

Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up. 

Him. You loved him. 

You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like. 

“Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose. 

But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights. 

You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint. 

From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back. 

Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath. 

“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”

You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”

Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”    

You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”

Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”

Bloodshed. Always bloodshed. 

A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day. 

He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat. 

As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion. 

The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived. 

Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open. 

Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting. 

You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red. 

But this new gladiator, he was fast. 

He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already. 

Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did. 

But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again. 

You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed. 

“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned. 

“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”

“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”

The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before. 

“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”

The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder. 

But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too. 

It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees. 

But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it. 

Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure. 

The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly. 

You wanted to vomit. You feared you might. 

You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat. 

Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?

You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before. 

But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to. 

Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face. 

His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.  

The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion. 

A man you were sure you already loved. 

By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember. 

When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet. 

Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more. 

A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward. 

Telling you to go. 

So you did. 

You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter— 

The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”

Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor. 

You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”

“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”

The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing. 

The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”

The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing. 

More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched. 

The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals. 

A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken. 

You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair. 

You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder. 

“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”

“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”

On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.  

The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. 

“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”

The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him. 

The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back. 

It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth. 

Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag. 

You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay. 

“Can I?”

The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew. 

The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder. 

He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”

Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question. 

His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water. 

You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed. 

Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics. 

“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer. 

You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above. 

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”  

The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation. 

“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face. 

He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer. 

“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”

Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods. 

Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world. 

You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above. 

Who was this stranger?

And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you. 

Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere. 

Thunder rumbled,  threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger. 

That you knew something bad was coming. 

“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”

Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real. 

His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was. 

Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare. 

“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”

“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”

From another life, you wanted to say. 

How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together. 

Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer. 

You didn’t want to let him go. 

“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”  

It happened too quick. Too fast. 

The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic. 

“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both. 

There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side. 

One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor. 

“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”

The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists. 

“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”

“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.

You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you. 

When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps. 

You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair. 

Steve was gone and the thunder was too. 

[stem-sister-scuffle]

STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 2 MASHUP 7

Alphys (Undertale) vs Jade Harley (Homestuck)

Alphys is a Roboticist, Biologist and Souls/Determination Researcher!

Jade Harley is a Nuclear Physicist!

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Alphys:

"Because she messed with DETERMINATION and made Amalgamates, blending monsters into each other to form horrible combinations of undead beings. She’s a lesbian"

"Man made horrors, overwhelming guilt, cute lizard girl, bisexual"

"SHE'S SO CUTE. She's awkward and shy but you can tell she knows a lot about what she does!! She's also a bit of a tragic character considering her biological endeavors have gone kinda. wrong. SHE'S BI AND LIKE ANIME 🫶"

"Ultra qualified women with deep scientific knowledge who are also massive anime nerds and can't hold a simple conversation represent!"

"idk she's kind of just. The Royal Scientist . built a robot and put a soul in it. tried to bring monsters back to life, this failed miserably. did research on souls and determination. has a kickass lab. also nerdy as hell and can't just. tell the truth to save her life. love her"

"I don't think we have a word for "works with SOULs and DETERMINATION, including fusing ghosts with robot bodies and creating immortal abominations of multiple people stuck together." I guess you could probably just put her down as Robotics. Mechatronics or something. Like sure she melted a bunch of guys, but she takes responsibility! Feeds em dog food! That takes responsibility. Bisexual"

"She had a friend who was a ghost, and they wanted to be famous! So she used her knowledge of robotics to build them a new body how they wanted! He became famous, as he wished! And Alphys worked on a bigger, better body that fit him well, though it used up a lot of power and needed more upgrades, hence why it wasn’t used often until the final battle with him (Him being Mettaton). But basically, Mettaton got a new body the way he liked it, changed his name, and started going by different pronouns (Mettaton is only ever referred to by they/them when people reference the ghost). Alphys allowed him to feel much happier as himself, and they’re great friends! Though, she did pretend that she created Mettaton and his SOUL herself, no ghostliness involved. But Mettaton did agree to that.

Because of her perceived achievement, (though her actual achievement was also pretty cool) Alphys was hired as the Royal Scientist for the Underground, and got to work with Asgore, the king of all monsters! She continued working with Mettaton, and Asgore asked her to try and find a way to break the barrier that was trapping them Underground without killing humans. Alphys found an interesting thing called Determination, or DT within humans using the SOULs of humans Asgore had killed and allowed her access to.

She tested it on some flowers in his garden to see what would happen, and nothing did. That she realized at the time, anyway. She had actually injected DT into a flower sprinkled with the remains of Asriel, the king’s dead son, and brought him back to life as a flower. Problem was, Asriel, or Flowey as he eventually called himself, didn’t have a SOUL anymore, since he was a flower. Thinking that nothing had happened, Alphys decided to try and see if it could really bring back monsters that had fallen down/were on the verge of death. She asked people for their family members that had fallen down. The monsters that had fallen down were basically dead, but the last of their magic hadn’t quite run out yet. However, their magic was being spent keeping their bodies from turning to dust, and they were unable to move, pretty much in a coma. So really, if it didn’t work, no harm done! Either it works and they live, it kills them, or it doesn’t do anything and they still die!

Alphys conducted her tests, and at first, it worked! All of the monsters were getting up and moving around! She contacted the families to send them back, but when she was about to, she discovered they had all started melting and had stuck together and merged into one being. She chickened out for fear of how the families would react, and proceeded to ignore a bunch of letters for quite a while. Eventually, she did own up to it, though she was immediately fired (by the EX-queen, not Asgore. Was that even legal?). The families were just happy to have their loved ones back, and while they were still somewhat upset, understandably so, they didn’t really blame her all too much.

ALSO!! She got a girlfriend!! She’s canonically expressed interest in Undyne, Captain of the Royal Guard and who would eventually be her girlfriend, Asgore, and the unknowable! She has made mistakes. Big ones. But honestly, I don’t blame her for the mistakes. The real problem was that she is incredibly anxious and let that get the better of her, leading to her not telling people important things that they deserved to know. She’s not the best at being honest."

Jade Harley:

"She's soo fun and silly and her symbol is literally an atom. she regularly irradiates steak to feed her weird dog"

"She and her nuclear powered dog creating a new universe. she's cool"

"Built a modded bass guitar that's only playable when she's in her robot form and has extra arms. Became a doggirl. She also plays the flute :)"

"i think you have enough ramblings about her already but i couldnt NOT submit her, she is so dear to me <3"

"bbg has THREE scientific specialties!! she genetically modifies plants and makes them grow beautifully high just because she can and loves science. in her alpha timeline she’s a tech mogul and creates technology that challenges the evil empress that brought earth to ruin. AND she’s a furry"

"Doggy"

"She plays a silly flute refrain. She's a furry. Literally, she's a doggirl. She's also a god and created the universe. JADE BEST GIRLIE!!!!"

[eliaism]

— “As the Old King’s strength and wits began to fail, he was oft confined to his bed. Ser Otto’s precocious fifteen-year-old daughter, Alicent, became his constant companion, fetching His Grace his meals, reading to him, helping him to bathe and dress himself. The Old King sometimes mistook her for one of his daughters, calling her by their names; near the end, he grew certain she was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.

In the year 103 AC King Jaehaerys I Targaryen died in his bed as Lady Alicent was reading to him from Septon Barth’s Unnatural History.” — Fire & Blood

song: “who is she?” by i monster / jaehaerys fc: richard schiff, alicent fc: mariya andreeva, saera fc: jodie comer / art: douglas wheatley / paintings: “the king of thule” by pierre jean van der ouderaa, “girl with lilac” by albert henry collings

[gyuhanniescarat]

King of My Heart

happy birthday to my one and only, the loml, my mingoo, my GyuGyu <3 <3

• pairing: kim mingyu x afab!reader

• genres/tropes: smut (MDNI — If you’re not 18+, then see yourself to the door n let it kick ya on the way out, ‘mkay), fluff, established relationship, slice of life, idol mingyu, non-idol reader

• warnings: cross-mix of cute domestic smut with pure, utter filth, slight sub!gyu moment (reader calls gyu ‘baby boy’ like once), love-drunk reader, love-drunk n pussy-whipped gyu, insanely — slightly unnecessary — excessive use of petnames (reader calls gyu ‘babe’, ‘gyu’, ‘gyugyu’; gyu calls reader ‘angel’, ‘princess’, ‘baby girl’, ‘darlin’, ‘baby’), daddy kink, dirty talk, slight mean!dom mingyu (Mingyu is a fucking MENACE here), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), hair pulling (m receiving), praise kink (we all know Mingyu is a sucker for some praise) bulge kink, size kink (Sry not Sry, I am one of if not THE main proprietor of the MINGYU MONSTER COCK agenda), breeding kink (be safe, stay protected from babies and STI’s when intimate with a partner y’all), talks of pregnancy — no actual impregnation tho — let me know if i missed something luvvies! 

• word count: 4.2k and some change

• request: no

• a/n: It’s the loml’s bday!!! Happy Mingyu day! I’ve had this blog for a year, and I just realized this is the FIRST full fic I’ve written for my favorite boy. This piece took on a mind of its own for real and became so so much more than I'd initially intended, but I guess that's to be expected when it comes to writing about Kim Mingyu. Tagging my fellow resident Gyuldaengie of the svthub server @onlymingyus out of love <3

You’re hard at work in the kitchen finishing dinner prep, when suddenly, you get pulled from your focus by the loud sound of the door to your and Mingyu’s shared apartment slamming open and shut. Gyu sluggishly glides into the living room, haphazardly tossing his bags on top of the coffee table. He unleashes a deep, exasperated sigh as his long and slender fingers run through his hair, his statuesque, athletically strong-built physique finally giving in to the utter exhaustion as he ungracefully plops into the couch.

From your position at the kitchen island, you watch Mingyu with worry as the sight of his tousled jet-black locks, bloodshot dark brown eyes, and rumpled clothes comes into view. As he stares off into the distance, one hand reaches up to rub away at his cheeks and jawline. Gently wiping your sauce and frosting-covered fingers off on the kitchen towel hanging over the oven door handle, you set aside the prepped meal and softly waltz over towards the couch.

“Gyu? You okay, babe? How did the recording session and dance practice filming go?” You question, resting a hand on your boyfriend’s knee as you sweetly gaze into his weary eyes. Mingyu’s hand reaches down to intertwine with the hand you placed on his knee and pulls you into his embrace. Basking in the warmth his muscular upper torso gives off, you wait for Mingyu to find the words to express what caused him to return home completely worn out. Breathing in the lingering, sweet scent of your rose-scented shampoo, Mingyu tries to calm himself down before he speaks, as he vowed to himself he’d never ever take out any negative emotions on you. 

“Ughh, honestly… I’m beat, angel. It feels like I’m gonna drop dead any minute now. Recording wasn’t too bad, actually. But the dance practice was an absolute hellfire. We had to do so many fucking takes in order to make the choreography look its 10000% best. Sorry, I got home later than usual, princess.” Gyu starts off ranting, but ends, speaking to you like you hold the answers to all the stresses in his world. The way you grin so widely and gaze at him in pure love and adoration doing everything to heal Mingyu’s heart and mind from the chaos of his daily routine. 

“Silly, silly boy. You don’t got nothin’ to apologize for, Gyu. I’m just glad you’re finally home, baby boy. Been waiting to snuggle with my GyuGyu and spend the rest of your special day together. It sucks when you have schedules on your birthday, but I hope some dinner and cake as we watch your favorite movie can make up for all the not-so-fun things you had to do today.” You giggle lightheartedly into his chest, glancing up into his chocolate eyes as your hands mischievously trace random shapes into his chest over his tight white t-shirt. Your mischievousness rubs off onto Mingyu as you note a shift in his now darkening eyes. 

“Mhmm… as nice as an evening of dinner and a movie with my girl sounds… as hungry and thirsty I am for one of your home-cooked meals, there’s something else I’m feeling more hungry and thirsty for right now, baby girl.” Mingyu huskily growls, hands slipping under your frilly bustier and coming up near the hook of your blush lace push-up bra. “Mingyu” you whine out. “Ah, ah, ah. You should be saving those sweet, addictive noises for later, princess.” Mingyu lowly whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine from both his words and the warmth of his breath near your ear. 

“I thought you were tired from work, Gyu? We… we don’t have to… if you’re feeling worn out from practice, babe.” You stammer out, nervously and innocently, eyes shifting away from making contact with Mingyu’s. Mingyu lightly chuckles and brings a hand under your chin, compelling you to look into his eyes, “I may be dead-tired, but I’m never too tired to take good care of my number one girl. Let me worship you and your stunning body, angel, ‘mkay?” “O-O-Okay, GyuGyu.” 

“Mmph. You know ‘GyuGyu’ or ‘Mingyu’ isn’t my name right now, yea. What’s my special name during sexytime, princess? C’mon, say it for me. I know you can say it.” Mingyu prompts. “S-sorry d-d-daddy. I’ll be your good baby now.” You shyly mumble, still not confident in saying the pet name, despite all the years you’ve been having sex with your boyfriend. “Of course, you’ll be a good baby for daddy. You’re my cute, precious little baby girl, right? You want to make daddy feel good and have daddy make you feel good, yea?” Mingyu replies, easily picking you up from the couch with little effort. 

You’re completely lost in the feelings of kissing Mingyu as he guides you from the living room and down the hall toward your bedroom. You don’t hesitate to help Mingyu out of his clothes along the way, one hand wrapped around his neck as the other hand reaches out to loosen the strings of his black sweats, causing the pair of bottoms to fall to the faux wood floors. Mingyu skillfully steps out of them whilst still enraptured by the spell of your lips. As the kiss deepens to a full-blown makeout session, the hand resting on his neck starts playing with the hair along the nape of his neck. 

Mingyu stumbles through the threshold and clumsily tosses you on top of your california king mattress. He stalks towards the vanity area and brings your chair over right in front of the foot of the bed. “Since it’s my birthday, I can make a few wishes, yea, princess? So, my first birthday wish, Take off your clothes. Slowly. Give daddy a lil show, yea?”

“Gy-... Daddyyyy! Please!” You moan, already done with your boyfriend’s teasing foreplay. “Please, what, baby girl.” Mingyu scoffs slightly. “Daddy! I want you. I need you so so so bad right now. Please daddy, help me.” You cry, giving Mingyu your best pouty face. Mingyu looks at you with what you’d hoped was a real bit of giving in, but it’s just his mock sympathy. After all, you of all people should know by now. 

Kim Mingyu is a tease. A fucking insufferable, cocky little shit of a tease. And what Kim Mingyu wants… he will get, one way or another. 

“Tsk tsk tsk. You know better than that, little girl. Unless… do you want a punishment from daddy, princess? Cuz I can and will punish you, if that’s what you ask for.” Mingyu warns, trying to read your face to see if you’ll actually challenge him when he’s in fully dom mode. Feathery, dark-tinted eyebrows lifting just slightly before drawing together, you curl your soft pink-tinted lips together as you slowly slide deeper into subspace. 

You sit up against the headboard, hands lowering down to grab the hem of your bustier and slowly slip it over your head, before randomly throwing the item of clothing somewhere in the room. One of your eyebrows slowly rises as yet another mischievous look pulls across your cute tiny face. “Bra on or off, daddy?” You cheekily question, noting the way Mingyu’s briefs seem to have started getting tight around his massive length. “Off. Take that cute little bra off right now, baby girl. You know how much daddy loves your pretty tits, darlin’.” Mingyu lowly mumbles, gaze intensely locked in on the view of the valley of your breasts. 

Reaching back, you slowly and skillfully undo the clasp of your bra. You cutely chuckle to yourself as an idea pops inside your head, leading Mingyu to question what other ‘great’ idea you have up your sleeve. “Princess… what are you up to, huh?” Silently and with a beaming smile, you pull the cups of the bra away from your breasts and throw it right into Mingyu’s empty lap. “What’s this, baby girl?” He chuckles, fangs showing as his head tips back. “A present for daddy.” You answer. Mingyu turns his head in surprise, tongue poking out in response. “Well, thank you, baby. This is one of my favorite little bras of yours, it’s so pretty… but ya know where I think it’d look even prettier?” He rhetorically questions, chocolate eyes darkening to the point they're almost black. Your head tilts to the right in response, like a confused little lab puppy. 

“On the floor. With the rest of your clothes, angel. Panties next. I’ll decide later what I wanna do with that cute little frilly skirt. Maybe, I won’t take it off. Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll decide to fuck you in it.” He teases, yet again chuckling at the way your eyes widen in innocence. As if you have any innocence left in you when Mingyu’s been corrupting and intimate with you since the beginning of your relationship. 

You gulp and swallow nervously, before gaining the courage to continue. Your hands slide underneath your skirt and up toward the waistband of your undergarment. Slowly, you pull the piece of fabric down your legs and slip it over your feet. Then, taking the lace panties in your hand you fling it into Mingyu’s lap. “Fucking hell. These… You… Oh my god… you fucking soaked through these panties, baby. Tell me, who made you so fucking wet, you ruined your little thong? Huh? Who is it that got you wet, baby girl?” Mingyu teasingly smirks, baiting you once again. 

“You… You know, Gyu.” You groan, annoyed. Now it’s Mingyu who playfully tilts his head to the side, acting like the ever-so-cheeky golden retriever he’s always compared to. “I do? Oh, I don’t think so, princess. How can daddy simply read your mind? You gotta use your big girl words if you want daddy to know what you mean.” Mingyu playfully quips, referring to himself in the third person. Thrashing your head side to side and kicking your legs against the mattress, you whine, “You! You, you, you, You! It’s you, daddy! Only you can make me so fucking wet I ruin all my panties. I’m all wet for you, and only you, daddy! Please daddy, please touch me. Please use your fingers, or your mouth, or your c-c-cock… just use whatever you wanna give me!” 

Standing up from the chair and coming closer to you, Mingyu grabs at the hem of his white t-shirt and pulls it over his head, exposing his defined pecs and well-chiseled abs to your wandering eyes. Biting down on your lip till you draw crimson and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to stop the gushing from your core, Mingyu throws his head back and deeply laughs at the sight, “Somethin’ caught your eye, baby girl,” “I know you’ve got a lil tiddie, abs, and arm fetish… but damn princess, you’re looking at me like it’s your last meal.”

“Ha, Is it a crime to stare at my man? What can I say? You’re like a fucking model-level attractive, Gyu. You’re hot, sexy, handsome, a talented idol, and you’re so kind, caring, look out for people, and smart. Sometimes, I just can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you my boyfriend. But, even if you didn’t have the physique of a fucking greek god, I’d still love you.” You giggle, more than happily doting on your man, even during a spicy moment like this. 

Mingyu is momentarily thrown off by the sudden sweetness in the air, but his heart swells with pride at the fact that he’s yours and you're his, and only his. Mingyu is truly the lucky one because he gets to call you his baby. “And you’re a fucking gorgeous queen, baby girl. So if anyone’s lucky here, it’s me who’s lucky to be the only man that gets to be with you like this. Now, come here, princess. I wanna taste you so damn bad, I actually just might lose my mind if I have to wait for a second longer.” He commands, nearly pulling you down the bed. 

Mingyu lays flat on his stomach at the bottom of the bed, swiftly leaning down to kiss his way up your legs, stopping just near your core as he places a gentle peck on both your left and right inner thigh. “Mhmm… been thinkin’ ‘bout your tight little pussy all day long. Almost had to break away from the members and staff during a snack time, just to slip off to the bathrooms to get myself off on the thought of you, angel. I’ve had a fucking raging hard-on all day. Cheol and Wonu almost interrogated me ‘bout it after practice, baby girl.” He moans lowly, sending vibrations straight to your core. 

“M-Min… I- Oh fuck, I need… I-” You shakily moan out, already feeling so incredibly fucked out without any stimulation from Mingyu. Mingyu looks up at the sound of you calling him, and he can’t say the view of you from this angle isn’t having an effect on him at this very moment. “Yeah, princess? Tell me what you need. I got you, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.” He groans, in response to the blissfully fucked out expression on your face. “Please, I need you to… Ahhh shit! I need you to use your tongue and fingers, please Gyu. Prep me to take your big juicy cock, daddy!” Your head falls back against the pillows, hands slowly coming up towards Mingyu’s head and gripping his soft, long, and curly raven locks.

Mingyu places his hands on either side of your hips and pulls your core into his mouth. Pulling his mouth back for a second, he collects a ball of saliva and spits it onto your clit. Strings of residual saliva connect from the corner of his bottom lip to your barren nub. Taking his thumb and placing it onto your clit, he rubs the wet liquid across the expanse of your clit, whilst his long and slender index and middle fingers slip deep into your walls, eventually curling once in deep, “Shit. Tight, so tight, so warm and wet, princess. No matter how many times I use my fingers on you, your tight little pussy somehow gets even tighter around my fingers. Fuck, I’m going to ruin this tiny pussy.”

“Gyu! Oh my god… ahhh ngggh… shit! M-More, I need more daddy! Pleaseeee.” You whine, the pitch of your voice growing higher. “More? You’ve already got two of my fingers deep in your pussy, and my tongue flicking your clit. What more do you need, princess?” Mingyu questions, momentarily pulling his tongue away from your sensitive nub. “I need more. Feels like ‘m gonna cum soon. Please give me another finger, I can take it, daddy. You know I can take it.” You beg, lightly pulling on a few strands of his hair. “Okay. Daddy’ll give you what you want. Say ‘thank you’, baby girl.” Mingyu replies, smirking at how you become increasingly more fucked out. 

“Thank you, daddy! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…. T-th-thank you. You’re so good to me daddy. It feels so fucking good. You make me feel so fucking good, daddy!” You moan out, like a mantra. Ever the people pleaser he is, your praises go in one direction… and that’s… straight to Mingyu’s big fat dick. The praise you give him damn near snaps the last bits of his resolve and willpower. Reminding you to continue taking slow, deep breaths, Mingyu gently slips a third finger into the walls of your pussy and rubs circles along your clit with his thumb. “Let it go, angel. Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over my fingers and the sheets. You know you want to, darlin’.” Like magic, Mingyu’s words do just the trick to compel your body to jump over the edge of ecstasy. Your orgasm hits hard, splotches of white dots lining your vision for a minute. Your climax is so intense your thighs uncontrollably shake. “That’s it, princess. Just like that, yea. Cum for me, keep cumming for me, baby girl. I promise your next orgasm is gonna feel all the more better.” Mingyu coos, coaxing you through the aftershocks of your climax. 

Vision finally clearing up, coming back down to the space of your shared bedroom, you take deliberate breaths, steering yourself away from any haze and overstimulation. “Fucking hell, Gyu. That was fucking otherworldly how you did that.” You laugh, pulling your tall, muscular, long-limbed man back up the length of the bed, and directing his lips toward yours. “You taste sweeter than the sweetest fruit, baby girl. Can you taste yourself on my lips still?” Mingyu praises, laying the endless nothings on thick, as his hands rub circles into your hip bones. “Shit, I do taste good, don’t I, daddy…” You giggle, licking your lips and blissfully beaming at the man hovering above you. “You taste so fucking good, darlin’. I’d honestly eat you out all damn day if I could.” He chuckles, wholeheartedly laughing with his whole chest. 

“Your turn now, daddy. I wanna return the affection and make you feel good too. Second wish, daddy? Anything you want?” You ponder. Mingyu suspiciously hmms, pretending to be thinking about what he wants, when he clearly already knows and more likely than not has known exactly what he’s wanted since the moment he stepped through the door of your apartment tonight. 

What Kim Mingyu wants, he will get, one way or another. 

“Hmm… while the idea of your pretty lips wrapped around my cock does sound quite nice, I have other plans. I need to be buried balls deep inside of your tight little pussy, my cock making your cute tummy bulge from how deep inside I am, feeling your tight, tiny walls clenching down on my cock, as I breed you nice and full… filling your little cunt with my cum till my seed takes and knocks you up. I wanna make you a cute little mommy. Your petite little frame would look so cute with a round stomach full of my babies, your pretty tits growing as your milk comes in. You’d be the prettiest, sexiest little mama alive. Don’t you want my babies, princess? Imagine it, baby girl.” Mingyu suggests, knowing you’ve always had an infinity for babies and motherhood. 

Throwing your head back deeper into the pillows, you bite down on your lips, hard, in an attempt to stifle the feral moans threatening to spill their way out your lips. “Oh-ho-ho, you’re getting turned on by the idea of carrying my babies, and being my hot little baby momma, aren’t you, baby? Should I make you a momma then, angel?” He chuckles, in response to the way you moan and seemingly tighten around his length at the thought.

“Gyu! Gyu, Oh god, yes, yes, yes! Mhmm… Ohh fuck, Ohh fuck, Ohhhhh fuckkk! So fucking good. You’re always so fucking good to me, daddy! God yes, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop! You’re so fucking big, Gyu! Oh god, it’s like your cock is gonna rearrange my guts and tear me open. Just like that, daddy! Just like that. Oh, fucking shit! I love you, Kim Mingyu. I love feeling your cock so deep inside of my little pussy.” You repeatedly moan, deep in subspace and even deeper in a hormone-filled daze. Nails alternating between gripping tightly onto Mingyu’s beefy biceps and roaming his back muscles. 

“Your tiny little pussy is so greedy for my cum, darlin’. Your wet, tight cunt is sucking me in so deep, Don’t you feel it? Look, baby, look at how desperately your pussy wants me inside.” Mingyu grunts, grabbing one of your hands and trailing it down in the direction of your stomach and core. “Ya feel that, baby girl. Can you feel your cute little stomach bulging every time I push my cock deeper inside you? I’m in so deep, it feels like my cock is gonna hit your cervix for sure. Your tiny cunny is working overtime just to take my whole cock inside you, but even though I’m stretching your tight little walls out to the max right now, we all know your perfect little pussy is just gonna tighten up even more again.” 

“Fu-ff-fuck… Oh my fucking god! I- M-Mm… Mingyu! ‘M gonna, ‘m gonna… Oh my god! Aaaahhhh…. Ngggghhh. D-dd-don’t… mhmm fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, Oh god! Mingyu, don’t you dare fucking stop. Don’t fucking stop, just like that, fuck… Just like that, daddy! Oh my god, Gyu, it’s so fucking good. I feel so fucking good… so so so fucking good. Your cock feels so fucking good inside me. I’m… mhmm shit, shit, shit! I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours! I’m yours and only yours, forever okay…” You loudly cry, tears spilling down your eyes from the mix of the intense pleasure coursing through your veins and the strong, overflowing love you feel for Kim Mingyu. 

“Damn right you are, angel. Mine! You’re mine forever and I’m only yours. I love you so much, y/n. Thank you for being with me all this time, thank you for giving me the great privilege of getting to be with you, of getting to call you my one and only baby. Thank you, baby girl.” Mingyu softly whispers, gently caressing your face and lovingly gazing into your eyes like you’re the only girl in his world. 

“You said you wanna make me your hot little baby mama, yeah?” You ask so casually, throwing the usually confident, cocky little shit off his game. Taken aback by the out-of-the-blue line of questioning, Mingyu is frozen in place for a moment. His chocolate eyes widened in sheer surprise and disbelief at the string of words he just heard. Yes, he has thought hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions of times about the idea of further making you his girl by impregnating you with his ropes of cum. He’d have to be a damn fool to not have an unspoken desire to see you pregnant with his child. 

“I… It-It w-ww-was.. ‘nt… I... are you sure princess?” He stammers, nervously, feeling his blood run cold as he simultaneously feels beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. You lightheartedly giggle, as a wide, bright smile etches across your face, your legs working to wrap around your boyfriend’s waist and trap the man in your embrace. “Gyu, I told you. I love you. I’m yours, only yours. Would it be such a bad idea if we started trying to have a family of our own? I wanna have your babies, Gyu. I wanna make you a daddy for real.” You sweetly admit. 

“Of course, I’ve thought many times about you being pregnant with my children. I’d be a fool not to think about how you’d be and look with a child, with my child, our child, but this relationship is a two-person team. So, I don’t wanna put you in any position where it feels like you don’t have a say. I’m just trying to make sure you really want this, baby. As hot as the idea of me possibly knocking you up is, it’s way more than that. Pregnancy is no joke, baby girl. What do you think, angel? I’m open to the idea of trying if that’s something you’re also open to.” Mingyu confesses, nerves running rogue and heart beating a million miles a minute. “Hmm…” You trail off, both mimicking Mingyu’s earlier action and actually giving deep thought to the idea of a family with Mingyu.

“I’m open to it, Gyu. We’re two hot ass people, so our babies would be some pretty and handsome as hell little humans. I wanna have your babies, Gyu. Now, cum for me, babe. Cum inside me, breed me nice and full, daddy! Make me a hot little baby mama, and I’ll make you a hot, sexy ass dilf that all the guys wish they were, and all the girls wish they could get with. Make me yours even more, daddy. Breed me, fill my tiny cunt with every last drop of your hot, thick cum. Breed me, daddy.” You sultrily moan, pulling Mingyu in closer despite already being pressed up right against each other. 

“Ohh fuck! You’re gonna be the death of me one day, princess.” Mingyu groans, throwing his head back. “What an iconic way to kick the bucket, babe.” You giggle brightly, kissing and licking a trail of love bites down the side of his neck and along his clavicles. “Oh my god, you’re a menace, a little vixen.” Mingyu feigns shock. “Uhh…. excuse me! I’m the menace?! You, sir… Oh, let’s see… who’s the one that pulled us both away from the notion of having the dinner I worked hard to make because they were ‘hungry and thirsty for something else?’ Oh, wait… I do believe that was you who said those very words, Kim Mingyu.” You scoff, in disbelief at your boyfriend. 

“I mean… can you really blame me, if I’m about to make you have the fucking orgasm of your life, darlin’? You’re the one who asked to be bred by daddy Gyu.” Mingyu counters, throwing you off your game now.

Kim Mingyu is a tease. A damn menace. A fucking ethereal, otherwordly cross-breed of model-level, actor-level, idol-level visuals and greek god physique. A man who seems too good to be true. But you truly wouldn’t have it any other way. Kim Mingyu is yours and you’re the luckiest person in the world to be his. 

© gyuhanniescarat | 2023 - all rights reserved. Reposting/Modifying of any fic, scenario, drabble, reaction or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[holybibly]

This is a little preview of my new series and yes, bunnies, this is a whole series from me. I hope everyone is ready for an erotic dystopia?

Decadent dystopian erotica with majestic dragons - second teaser for today

Glass House Ateez x reader

Everything changed in an instant. 

The king was dead, and thousands of dragons took to the burning skies. The old world was over, and a 'new age' was in the making—an age of gods and monsters. 

A thousand years ago, the fires of revolution blazed across the face of the world. Dragons—the creatures of ancient legends and children's fairy tales—reduced the once prosperous world to ashes in a matter of minutes. Rivers of black blood coursed through the veins of the streets, flooding the cities and lands in their wake. The sky was a blaze of purple flames and electric shocks. The church was reduced to rubble, and the royal family was executed in a public display. In the eyes of the dead, the unspoken horror in front of these majestic creatures remained forever, and in the sparks of the flames, they shimmered like precious sea stones. 

There was a bitter smell of burning flesh and ash in the air. It was the smell of dreams on fire—the smell of a future in decay. 

It was the beginning of the end of ancient life. The beginning of a new world. The Age of Immortality has begun. 

All the legends turned out to be true; dragons did exist. They had always lived close to us, lurking in the velvety darkness of the night, waiting for the hour. Waiting for the hour to come when the power would be in their hands. Dangerous, unbridled, wild creatures of magic and the elements, predators at the top of the food chain. They had come into the world to rule, not to obey, and now, at long last, their time had come. 

The world was at anarchy. Dragons were killing, raping, and enslaving races and lands as if it were an amusing child's game. They drank blood as black as the night from golden bowls, and they ate our succulent flesh as our bones cracked under the pressure of their razor-sharp teeth. They would hold orgies in the midst of the torn corpses and revel in their omnipotence. Those were the days of darkness. A time of terror, when the very word danger was a synonym for life itself. And so it went for several years, until the ultimate power fell into the clutches of the deadly Children of the Night, the oldest of all dragons. 

The majestic Hala. 

Eternal as the moon itself and deadly as the uncharted depths of the ocean, they inspired burning terror in all who encountered them. To their people, they were nothing more than a myth, a legend written on fragments of tablets. Forefathers, ancestors—they had hundreds of names, but each one inspired more fear than the last. They were predators among predators, bristling with animal dominance and primal, unbridled sexuality. They exuded power and sinfulness. They were the ones who defined the rules and set the boundaries of what was permissible. 

With the arrival of Hala, a new phase in the history of the world began. 

Humanity was enslaved, and dragons became the dominant species. As the years went by, the human population began to decline rapidly, with fewer and fewer humans, until "our" species reached the status of gatherers. Angelicus Nova, or Angel Stars, was what we came to be called. Human existence took on a strange religious orientation; we were worshipped, idolized, and adored, but despite all this, humans remained nothing more than a rare exchangeable currency, nothing more than an expensive trinket that was prestigious to own and could be broken with a flick of the wrist. 

The human being also became one of the ways in which money flowed endlessly. These institutions were known as "glass houses." Gateway to heaven. They would be the equivalent of strip clubs or luxury escort houses if you and I were in the old world. The rules were the same: "Look, but don't touch." Girls and boys were expensive pieces of family jewelry that rested under the glass of fancy display cases. Our masters showed us off to the greedy eyes of the world with all the pride and ostentation that dragons have. 

In spite of their possessive, animalistic nature, dragons were nothing more than swaggering bastards with inflated egos and delusions of grandeur.

Humans could be anything as long as dragons owned us—a muse, an innamorata, a nymph, an angel, a siren, or even a goddess—but like everything else in the universe, we came at a price. 

The 'glass houses' were only in operation at night. During the day, all the 'jewels' rested and tidied up after tiring hours of contemplation of the world through the bluish glass of the display window. Nice, obliging workers in starched white collars were busy with the cleaning, scrubbing the baroque decorations of the vetrines with great care from a mixture of sperm, drool, and other secretions. You looked at it with an almost reverent awe, finding it disgusting to the point of bordering on the pornographically beautiful. 

You could see it as real art—crude and original, but art nonetheless. There was something particularly mesmerizing about it, almost hypnotic, about the way the thick, pearly sperm dripped slowly from the golden flowers. 

Of all the glass houses that ever existed, "Eros" was the most beautiful. It was the jewel in the crown of the New Empire, and you were its goddess. There were rumors that the Hala themselves were customers of 'Eros'. But rumors were only rumors. If they were ever to visit your 'home', you would know about it, for they would be where all men ended up—at your feet. 

You were content with the life that you were living. There was no tragedy and no misery, no abusive family or abusive peers, no bullying and harassment at school—no, you had it all great. You were born here at Eros—the growth and blossoming of a beautiful flower. Your whole life has been within the confines of glass rooms and silk sheets, but unlike your dreamy friends, you weren't in need of rescue. 

Your name is Aphrodite. Born in the radiance of the Creator. A goddess among goddesses, carved out of marble and mother of pearl. Your hair falls to the ground in waterfalls of pearls and silk. Your eyes are the eerie silvery moonlight in half-darkness, the deadly attraction of jewels in velvet lashes. Your lips are the succulent, juicy, forbidden fruit that every man would like to taste. The pain of your kiss is going to be the last pleasure of life. 

You are not a delicate, pure lily; you are not a passionate, fiery rose; you are a narcissus reveling in the crystal of mountain waters. You love yourself to pain, to death, to despair, and in all the New Empire, there was none more beautiful than you. 

Original sin. The primordial beauty. You are desire in all it manifests and begins to manifest. 

The naked goddess, clad in snow-white fur like armor, is the goddess of love and ecstasy. 

You've never been conceptualized; you've always been enigmatic. 

You have been the object of worship. Your beauty has been sung in songs, and your love has been professed in a thousand languages. "Eros" was the site of visits from the mightiest and most powerful dragons of the New Empire. They all crawled at your feet, stroking their thick, greased with their cum cocks, greedily as they burned your skin with their golden gaze. They licked the deceptively thin glass of your display case with their long, sometimes split tongues, leaving muddy streaks on the perfect surface of the glass. The mighty and great dragons, unaccustomed to humiliation and submission, urinated like bitches in heat at the mere sight of your bare shoulders and long neck covered with diamond serpents, their eyes shining like stars in the twilight of your silken chambers. They would drip their sperm onto the icy marble floor until it collected in small, glistening puddles, and then they would lick it up as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world. Ambrosia in the truest sense. 

Behind the glass walls of Eros, they were dominators, predators, and the rulers of this world through fear and pain, but here in this garden of Eros, they were nothing more than whores—shameless and needy. Slaves to your beauty, desperate to please you. 

Their moans are always a delight to you. The moaning of your name. 

The scenarios have been repeated to the point of being painful. Sugar-sweet subs with outstretched tongues and pretty, tear-stained faces. Dominant alphas with sweat-glistening skin and eyes rolling with pleasure.

Dragons fucked other dragons; orgies and bacchanals were staged; they were subjugated and subdued. They growled, moaned, squealed, and purred; some were fucked like a port slut, and some were licked for hours until they passed out from hyperstimulation. Some masturbated in front of your window, enjoying the fact that you were there to watch them, and there were others who would spend their heat and ruts in front of your window. 

The list could go on and on: bondage, darkphilia, breeding, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, and breathing games.

You were saturated with this game. 

There were so many ways in which you could spend your evenings in the company of others. It was all designed to excite you, to make you beg, and to make you plead. Each of your visitors secretly hoped that one day you would strip off your luxurious furs and assume the position that was right for them—submissive, naked, and ready to accept whatever it was they were giving you. 

It was an act of power; it was a position of strength, but here you were the strength. You were power. 

No one would ever have the temerity to lay a hand on you. Goddesses are always untouchable.

You entertained yourselves by teasing them, mocking them, and fanning their flames of desire and passion. Dragons are creatures that are very dependent on their emotions and their desires; they feed on their power and their magic, but when they do not get what they want, it burns them from the inside; it breaks and crumbles them, like a cookie that has been bitten.

It was delicious, but you were full. Thank you, next.

You never denied that you were a sadist; you had a taste for pain; maybe it was a kind of revenge for the destruction of your family; maybe not. They came to you for that feeling; the dragons wanted to be punished and tamed, and the feeling of pain made them cum harder. As they say, Orgasm is a little death.

You could play this game for hours on end, letting the fur expose your boobs and pressing it against the cold glass as you went. It was magnificent—tall and plump, as if it had been milked with milk—with pink nipples the color of magnolia blossoms. There was something animalistically seductive about it—an appeal to their natural reproductive instincts—that evil thought of possible pregnancy. Their whimpering made you laugh, and the sounds they made were so sweet—desperate pleas and long, long moans.

"Let me taste you; I want it so much. I was a good boy, such a good boy."

There were other days when you would let your hands run over the bare skin of your thighs, leaving long red streaks that stood in erotic contrast to the silk of your pale skin. You smeared the clear, shimmering liquid of your juices along the line of your neck, in that most exciting place for dragons, where their teeth locked in a mating mark, as if branding their mate in the most perverse of affiliations.

"Tell me I belong to you; please say it. I'll do anything you don't want. Own me, use me; I want to be your toy.".

Sometimes other girls would be brought into your shop window to put on an erotic show. Exquisite nymphs and rosy-cheeked Lolitas would explore your tender skin with their soft, wet tongues, leaving traces of hungry kisses, until at last their lips would close on the most intimate spot between your thighs.

On days like this, the whole of 'Eros' would shake with furious, jealous growls and thunderclaps. Dragons were terrible possessive, and even though the "scene" itself would excite the hell out of them, the jealousy would burn through their veins from the inside out, like a deadly poison.

"You belong to me, and only to me. You are mine, mine and mine alone. I will tear this girl apart, and we will fuck in her blood until there are no more conscious thoughts left in your pretty little head, until you remember nothing but my name.".

But no matter what their words were to you, you didn't have a care in the world. Nobody would dare touch the goddess, and if they tried, they would not only lose their hands but also get killed.

That was the law of the New Empire—all the people who were left were protected and sheltered in an incredible way. There were very few of you, and if there had been any harm to even one of you, it would have been a real tragedy.   Only once has there been a breach of that law, and the consequences have been terrible. No one wants a repeat.

In any case, your life in the Garden of Eros was a pleasure. Maybe it was some kind of perverse way of looking at the world and love, but you didn't have any desire to change anything; everything was great.

Have you ever wondered if there might be another version of you out there? Perhaps, somewhere in a parallel universe, humans would still exist as the dominant species, their countries and cities would be prosperous, and you would be living a different life—a normal one. There, in that other universe, that other Aphrodite—no, not Aphrodite—you would have an ordinary name, not a divine one, something cute, something sweet, and always with a hint of shyness. It is probably there that you would have experienced your first love, that you would dream of a prince who would take you off into the sunset, and that "and they lived happily ever after." You would have been embarrassed to talk about sex, and you would have blushed horribly if his fingers had been in your knickers. But you weren't her. And she wasn't you. You don't want to be saved from sinning; you want to become one of them. You want to experience forbidden pleasures. You want to subjugate and dominate.

You're not in need of a prince; you've already had a king, or rather, eight kings. The day will come when everything you have ever dreamed of will come true, even if you haven't met any of the Hala yet.

You want power; you want to sit on a golden throne in a castle high up in the sky, and so it shall be. They say that love is a great strength, but they fail to mention that it is also the greatest weakness. And you, like no one else, know how to use it to your advantage.

This is not a pink fairy tale. There are no rainbow ponies pooping rainbows and eating fairy dust. No, this is a rotten world. It is full of debauchery, violence, and sex. You could say, "Come and rescue me. I'm waiting for  you," but no, you have to rephrase it as "I'm waiting for you to crawl on your knees and lick my heels, and from that moment on, I will own you.".

Yes, that sounds much better.

It's already eight o'clock; time to get ready; you're leaving soon.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most famous glass house in the New Empire. Tonight we have wet aesthetic cunnilingus as our main course, and for dessert, a mind-blowing orgasm. You have a choice of starters. Drinks are on the house. We accept cash and checks. If you wish, you can leave a tip for one of our "jewels.".

Our hope is that your time at Eros will be an unforgettable experience.

[ystrike1]

Savage Castle - By 별보라 (8.5/10)

The false King is weak. Bad for the nation, but never fear. The true King has not given up. He is in hiding. He lives as a servant, and his master is a pathetic woman. A stupid young girl who is obsessively possessive. Staying by her side was the perfect cover. Whoops. He's madly, mutually obsessed too.

Else tried very hard to be kind, but it never worked out for her. Being a good daughter brought her only pain, and suffering. Her brother, the heir, died. Her mother, her father's beloved, can no longer give birth. She is the last child they can rely on. The only one they can marry off, and sadly her noble line isn't that famous.

Her parents eternally mourn the death of her brother. She is inferior. He was the one they wanted. Else is very sickly, and she's not very smart or charming. The only good thing about her is her looks. I'm not saying her parents are the worst parents. They don't beat her or anything. Heck, her father lets her enjoy her toxic servant lover before marriage.

It's the expectation.

Else is expected to bear a child, even though it will likely kill her. That's all her parents want from her too. They don't give her love. They played with their beloved dead son, but never her. This is the fate of a girl child in a middling noble family. If she had more siblings maybe her life would be happier, but being an only child is not her fault. It is not her fault that her parents only see her as a tool, when they're in love! It's so cruel. The Lady and Lord are in a loving marriage, but they never spared a drop of affection for their surviving child.

Even though Else is WILLING to marry and give up her life, just to please them.

Else and "Ian" (he's actually the rightful King Sybil. Dethroned at age six. The country is currently being run by a corrupt Duke)

They were friends.

When Ian became a servant he didn't expect to make a friend. He didn't want to. Else was a total brat to him. She slapped him when she wanted attention....but when he showed her kindness she showed him kindness in return.

It was all she wanted....until she grew up and her need for affection grew too.

Ok.

Else believes Ian is in a relationship with Ivana. A maid.

Are you ready?

Ian and Else have been bed partners for 2 years, as of the beginning of the story.

Else thinks she is the villain.

She is stealing Ian from his true love, Ivana, out of desire. She sees herself as a monster. Jealousy consumes her. She hits Ivana if the maid ever dares to appear in front of her.

Ivana is secretly a Knight who belongs to Sybil. She is extremely loyal and extremely obsessed with putting her King back on the throne. Her real name is Leina.

Leina believes the Else will be killed off when the King rises back up to his rightful place. Leina sees Else as an annoying, immature, pervert and frankly she's kinda right, but she idolizes Sybil. She's way more annoying than Else.

Else gradually becomes a sympathetic protagonist. She wants to be kind. Her life is just too harsh to allow it.

Leina is a sadistic knight who daydreams about beheading every enemy in the King's shadow. Her extreme black and white mindset is a big red flag.

Sybil is completely willing to sleep with Else. He doesn't tell her that. He lets her suffer. He lets her believe he loves "Ivana". He encourages her jealousy on purpose.

He likes it.

When she hits him he thinks to himself...

"This feels like a kiss."

Sybil is a giant yandere, but he doesn't realize that for a while. He thinks he will leave Else behind for his throne, but his obsession gets worse, and he drags her to the capital.

He encourages her deepest, darkest desires.

He doesn't want her to get married because of her fathers will.

He doesn't want her to love her family at all.

He won't admit it, but he's been waiting.

He wants Else to beg him for salvation.

He wants her to say she loves him more than her family.

She doesn't say that, because deep down she's still naive as hell.

Else knows she must end their relationship. Ian is a servant. Being with her in public isn't an option for him. She took him as her lover. He didn't have a choice. She's been in agony.

Thinking about how to right her wrongs, before she marries.

Her marriage nears, and she's excited.

She wants to show Ian her sincerity. She doesn't expect him to love her. She thinks he hates her.

She blesses his marriage.

Else opens a jewelry box. She's been saving up little gems and coins for him....and Ivana.

Right before her wedding she frees him of his slave status. She tells him to live happily with his true love. She thanks him for being a bright spot in her lonely life. She says his fake love helped her survive.

He gets angry. So angry. I can't even include pictures, because he gets extremely violent. Obviously he takes her after he takes power. Conveniently she's pregnant with his baby too.

Sybil isn't an angel for his beloved. He's a rough guy who's been doing espionage crimes to reclaim his throne since he was like...twelve? Else is his polar opposite, but he loves her. He insults Else, because she's not evil enough. He can't believe she's still willing to go to another man, even though she loves him.

Her logic shatters. He forgets that Else was supposed to be a game. A bed parter to play with before his crown returns to his hand.

He wants her too.

More than she wants him.

The Queen, and the crown.

He'll take both.

[kazbrekkerscrutches]

Aemond Targaryen - Love of My Life

Warnings: Aegon obviously, slight mention of alcohol, allusions to sexual harassment and violence, allusions to nightmare and self inflicted wounds OTHERWISE FLUFF FLUFF AND FLUFF

Words: 2.0k

SHE/HER PRONOUNS // 3rd PERSON VIEW

Summary: Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem like the loveliest person in Westeros but with Y/N, he would do anything to keep his betrothed happy and safe. He was the happiest with her, before and after marrying her.

**Valyrian translation after the imagine, below the --- line. Hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts.**

Aemond Targaryen wasn’t kind to everyone. Especially to the ones who crossed him or even annoyed him. 

Aemond Targaryen was only kind to a few people, including Y/N. She meant everything to the silver haired prince.

They both had met each other as children, as they both grew up in King’s Landing. Aemond had seen her for the first time reading a book in the castle’s library. As a child, it was Aemond’s peaceful place and it quickly became theirs. They would often meet after dinner, spend the night reading and talking about plenty of things. He was himself when he was with her. He loved the way she liked him as a person, not as a prince or as an arse. He loved the way she would tell him about everything, only because she trusted him. She would come to him if something was wrong and even as children, they would never lie to each other.

Many years of harmony passed until Aemond lost his eye. He became more distant even though Y/N wanted to be there for him. He wouldn’t let anyone in, at least he tried to let her in, but it was terrifying for him. Her seeing him so destroyed, tainted, as a monster. Yet Y/N did not see him as all those things, she came to his bedroom every so often, talk like they were children again and he would lose himself in her. He would become a child again, a happy one, a kind one. He would get drunk on the sound of her laughter, and he knew that he only wanted her in his life.

Two years after his eye was gone, his mother started to propose women to him, to get him to choose one of them. To make them his betrothed, but he only wanted her. He only wanted Y/N.

“Mother, I will not marry any of those girls.” He dropped on the Queen.

“And why is that, Aemond?” Because I only want Y/N, mother. I want her to be my wife. He urged to say it. He had to. And he did.

“I want to marry lady Y/N.”

His mother looked at him. He looked back at her, all seriousness in his eye. She nodded and walked away. The day after, his mother told him what he could marry her.

He was the happiest man in all Westeros.

The minute she had stepped into his room for their daily encounter, he ran to her and pulled her into his arms.

He spun her around in the air and she giggled loudly. His hands were spalled on her waist and hers tangled in his long hair.

He finally set her down on the ground, the height difference making its way back.

“What have you eaten to make you this happy, my dear Aemond? Have you had a new saddle for Vaghar or something?” She walked deeper into his room to sit on the velvet seat, her beautiful dress promoting her beautiful body.

“I have wonderful news. But I need you to hear me first, no talking.” She nodded as he approached her, kneeling before her.

She looked at him with big innocent eyes.

“We have known each other since we were children, and I have loved every single moment with you, my lady. Tis the day where I am asking you, with my family blessing, to marry me. I have loved you since I saw you in the library. When this,” he said, touching his patched eye, “happened, I closed myself to everyone but you did not let me shut you out. You stayed and I realised then that all I wanted, in my whole existence, was you. I only want you; you are the only one for me. I love you, and I’ll never stop. I swear on the gods. I love you. Would you do me the honor of becoming mine forever?” He exhaled softly; his hands went to grab a small box from his lapel.

He opened the small box before the woman he loved. Her gaze shifted from his face to the beautiful ring, impaled with a blue sapphire decorating it.

“Aemond… I-I…” She was speechless. The expression on her face was unreadable.

He tried to pull away, thinking he made a fool of himself but she pulled his face to meet hers halfway. Their lips joined into sweet harmony and he pulled himself even more into her. His hands roamed on her body, finding their way to the low of her back, her legs spreading to let Aemond get closer.

She pulled away from his lips, her hands on his strong face.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Aemond. I’d marry you today, I’d have married you if we were children and I’d marry you again any day. I love you, Aemond Targaryen, I always have and I always will.”

His eye was glassy, a huge grin on his face appeared. He pulled one of his hands away, removing the ring from its box and placing around her ring finger. It was perfect.

She smiled so brightly, Aemond kissed her again. He was in heaven and he will always be if he’s with her.

Their wedding happened only weeks after the proposal and Aemond was the happiest with her. She was his and it was everything he ever dreamed of.

One night, a couple of years after their union, she was known as the untouchable wife. Yet someone in his family did not respect the “untouchable” aspect.

She was at a celebration, as were all of Aemond’s family. Music was filling up the room, the banquet was filled with too many people to count. But she could feel the presence of her dear husband behind her. They were both sitting at the main table, he grabbed her hand that landed on her thigh and kissed it, intertwining his fingers as well.

He pulled away, standing up, telling her he’ll be right back. Before he could pull back, she told him that she will go up directly to their room, it was late and she was tired. He nodded, offered her a sweet smile, and kissed her forehead sweetly.

As she made her way up, she was met with Aegon, his brother. Aegon was known for his sense, or his lack of sense, for the word “no”.

“Hello, wife. How dare you look so fine this evening!” He reeked of wine and many other beverages.

“Aegon, I am not your wife. Please go back to the venue, I’m sure there’s more women interested in you.” I desperately wanted him to go away.

“Mhm, must you have mistaken me, lady Y/N, yet I don’t like that attitude of yours.” He suddenly gripped her wrist tightly, and she tried to get out of his reach.

“Let go Aegon. Let. Me. Go. Now.” She ordered yet he pulled her flush to his chest and she hated every second of it. He breathed her in, and she pulled even harder to get out of his reach. He gripped her waist and before she knew it, she was pinned to a wall with both of her hands pressed behind her back, hitting the brick wall.

As he pressed himself even closer to her, she punched him between his legs and slapped him down on the ground before running away to her chambers.

Time passed before Aemond returned to their room. Y/N was asleep when he came into the room. Her peaceful form decorating the bed, her hair draping the pillow. He reached to her side, sitting besides her. He placed a sweet kiss on her forehead before reaching his side of the bed.

They were both sleeping in no time before Y/N was stirring up in her sleep. Aemond, like the light sleeper that he is, woke up in a second. She was whimpering in her sleep, her head snapping from sides to sides. She was clawing at her wrist, which Aemond tried to get her to stop.

“Jorrāelagon, wake up. Come on”, he clasped lightly at the hand that was clawing the other. “Y/N, wake up, come on, wake up.” He shook her slightly, sitting up in the bed.

She woke up and jolted up with small cry, she tried to pull away from him, as if he had hurt her.

“It’s alright, issa jorrāelagon, you’re alright. You're safe.” She realised that it wasn’t Aegon. It was only him. Only Aemond, the boy who she had loved for so long.

She melted into sobs when he pulled her in his arms, her legs pulled over his, one arm around her waist and the other one cradling her head. Her head and heavy sobs laid on his chest, his face resting by her head.

“Did you have a nightmare, dōna mirre?” She nodded weakly. Her sobs resuming. He praised her with sweet word in her ear, he cradled her in his arms, assuring her that she was safe.

Her sobs calmed down and she found peace in his heartbeat.

He looked down at the sight of her wife, he saddens at her gaze, his heart breaking because something is troubling her.

The hand that was cradling her head softly pulled at the wrist she was hurting in her sleep. He saw, even in the dim darkness, that there were marks, not of her nails, but of a tight embrace.

“Who did this to you, my love? When did this happen?” He questioned her softly, not wanting to startle her.

“I don’t want you to be mad.” She responded lightly.

He pulled her chin, making her look up at him.

“Love, I won’t be mad, I promise. I just want to know the truth.” He brushed her hair out of her face.

“It was Aegon. He was drunk, like always, but I was walking up to go to our room and he called me his wife, and he pulled my wrist,” She sniffled, Aemond felt her breath accelerate.

“Breathe my love, take your time.” He purred. Aemond was boiling on the inside but he could never be harsh on her.

“He pushed me to the wall, started to press himself against me, and I punched him away. I ran as fast as I could. I thought he was going to run after me, Aemond, I was so scared.” She truthfully told Aemond, her tears seeping his night shirt.

“Oh, dōna mirre, I’m sorry he’s done this to you. I’ll handle him in the morning, and I promise you he won’t ever touch you again, nobody will.” He caressed her hair, calming her down. He kissed the palm of her hand, trailing kisses down to her inflamed wrist. She calmed down, leaning into his touch.

Aemond pulled her down with him, to lay together in the bed.

“Everything is going to be just fine, darling. Rest in my arms, you’re safe.”

She turned to be faced with his chest. She looked up to his figure, some strands of glittery hair falling on his face.

“I love you, valzȳrys. Thank you for always being here for me.”

“No need to thank me, that’s what I’m here for. I love you." He whispered in her ear, pulling her against him, kissing her forehead and the rest of her face sweetly. She fell asleep in his arms, as she always did.

He’d deal with Aegon in the morning, and everything will be alright.

She’ll be alright. She was with Aemond after all.

“Ao sagon se jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson.” He pressed one last kiss on the ring that laid upon his wife’s finger and went into a peaceful sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you like this imagine, I had a pleasure writing this. Here are the traduction in english for the Valyrian words.

Jorrāelagon: Love

issa jorrāelagon: my love

dōna mirre: sweet thing

valzȳrys: husband

Ao sagon se jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson: You are the love of my life

[pocket-jack]

I just learned about the age difference between Kid and Killer and their pre-canon has got more funnier.

Imagine a big ass hairy and dangerous 17 year old goes around beating the shit out of people and killing them... And the small little 13 y.o chaotic bean just follows him behind

Can you imagine that they picked a fight over a GIRL. Just imagine. Victoria and Killer are about the same age (or that will be really weird)... And somehow some small kid just fights him for a girl who's much older than him

Can you imagine Kid saying "You're strong and cool! You'll be in my gang now!" And Killer just looks at him, capable of killing him in an instant... And just goes "Yeah, I'll protect that dumbass till the day I die".

Imagine just Kid doing some gang leader shit, and Killer following him behind as his right hand (their gangs are probably friends at that point and even became one big gang under a child lead). Everyone think that this small ass piece was strong enough to defeat their leader and therefore respect him... But Killer is just on a constant big brother duty, because Kid was the only person who didn't saw a monster in him.

When Kid grew up and became strong Killer was so devastated because he can't protect him anymore. Kid can defend himself just fine, so Killer's presence wouldn't be so relevant anymore. So he decided to step off and take care of his gang and territory.

But then Kid got worried. His prehistoric evil scientist brain goes "No Killer, = Sad". So he just goes to him, grabs him by the hand and returns him home, and Killer goes "Oh ok".

In Wano after Udon prison Killer considers quitting. With his permanent smile on his face and his terrifying ugly laugh he will be no use to Kid. Looking at him he feels so proud. It feels like almost yesterday he was just a small chaotic troublemaker not even reaching the size of his hip. Yet today in front of Killer's own eyes there was standing the future King of the Pirates, a man who will stand proud and strong. And Killer couldn't help him anymore.

So he starts saying, actually thinking that Kid would listen: "Hey, Ki-", "Let's go, Kill!" The warm hand grabs his, "We need to find our crew"

And the future King of the Pirates, the strongest man alive, just looks at him. Only him at the moment, almost searching for some of his guidance.

Kid holds his hand tightly and leads him to their ship. His home. Where he was always belong. Where he never was a monster, or an ugly guy, or anything except from Killer - Kid's Pirates first mate. He never felt himself at home so hard before. Oh look. The laughing had stopped!

[zoohouseart]

An idea of how Ed Edd n Eddy's cast may appear as adults. I wrote a bio for each one too.

Ed: Married May Kanker right out of high school, had 26 kids all named after monster movies (all of which he's VERY protective of). Spends a simple life working on tree-lifting and mine digging, bathes in gravy every night. Misses Edd and Eddy a whole, whole lot. Unfortunately doesn't see them often, since they moved further into the city while he stayed in the cul-de-sac.

Edd (Double D): Cleaned his act, got the girl, gained a master's in science and engineering, became a teacher, and yet STILL isn't happy or widely respected. Has yet to fully address his long standing anxiety of taking off his hat. Cannot let himself catch a break as he stresses daily about getting the bills paid. Wishes there was more to life than this ever-revolving door of monotony.

Eddy: Flunked out of college. Works as an errand boy for the mayor of Peach Creek and "oversees productivity". Secretly continues to feed his compulsions to scam and gamble at any chance he can get. Spends his every evening dreaming of the day where HE's the mayor, and scheming up ideas he'll never enact (unless..). Often complains that jawbreakers aren't as big as they used to be.

Nazz: Lives a bohemian life, praying someday her time to shine will glisten once more as an "influencer" but works retail in the meantime. Mooches off her fiancée Edd and tries to make up for it in emotional (and erm, well, physical) support. Is struggling with the idea that she peaked in high school, but will never admit it. Mockingly called "Double Z" by Eddy, though she doesn't mind.

Kevin: Is the mayor of Peach Creek. Won this view through pure charisma and good word as the football king of Peach Creek High and general "best at everything", but is often these days fumbling the ball on keeping the streets safe and clean. Is now friends with Eddy, or at least he likes to think so. Is sad he didn't make it into pro league, and will sulk about it when noone's looking.

Sarah: Took up the job of being a shrink (specifically in anger management), and a general town do-gooder. She's often, even if obnoxiously, asking to help others. Has really turned her life around from her loudmouthed, vicious childhood and make up for her past cruelties.. but has mostly done so just to repress her unbridled rage bubbling inside. Whatever you do, don't bring up Jimmy in front of her.

Jimmy: Sarah and Jimmy were conjoined to the hip practically forever, until the day his braces came off. Once he did, he got the call from Hollywood for his incredible acting chops, and ditched his BFF without a second thought. People often tour Peach Creek to see his hometown, much to the chagrin of everyone there. Is a real piece of work these days and could use a nice ass whooping.

Rolf: Grew to be a mighty farmer, creating a titanic cattle industry. Used his profits to buy a massive chunk of Peach Creek and turn it into "New Yergosluvia", so his old country family could live nearby. There he resides as it's king, and frequently feuds with old friend Kevin. Wears Victor's pelt in honor of his life-long servitude to a son of a shepherd (Victor passed peacefully in his sleep).

Johnny 2x4: MIA. As the Eds became more accepted, Johnny became the new misfit. One day, tragedy suddenly struck Plank in senior year of high school, and Johnny was never seen again. There's urban legends of crudely drawn faces appearing on the trees around the old cul-de-sac they grew up in. Ed swears he's seen one tree move. But that's crazy Ed for you. …Right?

May Kanker: Spends her days mostly exhausted from having to take care of 26 children, and hardly ever leaves the house. When she's not trying to drown out the kids with a cranked up TV, she's spending every other hour gossiping about occurrences across the city with her sisters.. though there's not a lot of time between that and cleaning up shit smeared on the walls.

Marie Kanker: Was expelled from Peach Creek High School for stalking Edd and threatening harm on Nazz. She now spends her days as a forum rat on doxxing related message boards, betwixt a day job of driving a garbage truck, where she mostly rides around town spying on people and scribbling down their whereabouts. She too spends all remaining hours gossiping with her sisters.

Lee Kanker: Was mid-planning on going to college and had her life all figured out to be a part of law enforcement until she was unexpectedly locked up for "illegal wood burning". She swears she was framed but has no idea who could've done it. She's usually calling her sisters, but occasionally talks with Eddy. She's not interested in him anymore; they just like to shoot the shit sometimes.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere House Targaryen Headcanons (Platonic)

"Fire and Blood." — House Targaryen.

❝ 🐉 — lady l: I don't think I've ever written a headcanon this big! But I liked how it turned out and I hope you like it too. I made some changes to the ones that participate, in this case, it's Viserys I, Aemma, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Aegon III, Viserys II, Rhaena, and Baela. I did this because it's easier to organize, but don't worry, the others will come later! Good reading and sorry for any mistakes. :)

❝tw: yandere themes, possessive and obsessive behavior, unhealthy platonic relationshipsa , child being taken from its parents, mention of torture, murder, war and blood.

❝🐉 pairing: yandere!platonic house targaryen x gender neutral!reader.

❝word count: +2,5k.

The way you entered the life of the Targaryen family was very unconventional, but for them, it was the work of the Seven. You were brought at a young age into the arms of Queen Aemma, King Visesrys I and Princess Rhaenyra, only a year older than you. Your origin is unknown to all who are not part of the family. Some say you were the child of peasants who lived in the Vale and on a trip there, Viserys and Aemma met you and were enchanted by you, as did Rhaenyra and decided to take you with them, others say that Daemon killed your parents and when he was about to to kill you too, he was ''bewitched'' and decided to take you with him to King's Landing where the King and the Queen took you as their child, but it's not really important anymore because now you're with them and they don't mean you let go.

Aemma became especially attached to you as you grew older, she really came to love you like her own child and the way she always tries to keep by her side as long as possible made that very clear. The Queen just wants you happy and well, she sees you as her ''precious baby'' and she can't let anyone ruin that. Aemma goes to great lengths to see you smile, she gives you everything you need and more. She is a devoted mother and very attached to her children, Rhaenyra and you, but in a way, she is even more to you. You, like her, are very attached to the Queen as well, as she is what you know as a '’mother’' and anyone who tries to deny that you are not really her and the king's child will lose their tongue. It doesn't matter if you are completely different from them, if you have dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin, you are their child and no one can say otherwise. Those who dared to do so lost their tongues.

Viserys also spends as much time with you as possible, for as King he doesn't have as much free time, but what he does have, it's all spent with you. Viserys tries to be as rational as possible in this family dynamic that has developed around you, but he can't deny the situation they've gotten themselves into by stealing someone's child. He knows it's wrong and he feels guilty about it, but hearing you call him "daddy" makes those thoughts disappear in an instant. He's a good father actually, always taking care of you, pampering you and protecting you as much as he can from the evils of the world which made you an extremely naive person, but Viserys won't say he doesn't like that innocent side of you, because he does. It just forces him to think that you must be protected forever, that you will never stop being your daddy's little girl/boy. That you will always need him to protect you and ward off the monsters of your nightmare.

Rhaenyra is your older sister, protective and possessive of your attention. She, from her family, is one of the most possessive with you, she feels entitled to have you because you are sibilings and, therefore, she is the one who should have you whenever she wants and she always wants you with her. The Princess is the one who you are closest to in the family, only after Aemma, as she is always by your side even if you are with your parents she will still be around. She claims it's because she's taking care of you like a big sister would, but in reality it's because she doesn't want you to spend time with other people, even if those people are her parents. She loves to take you flying with Syrax and read to you, her favorite moments spent together are when you are hugging her tightly as you fly your dragon. Rhaenyra's possessiveness is often overwhelming as you will never truly be alone, she insisted on sharing a room with you and she is very insistent. She is suffocating, your alone moments will never really be alone as the princess will always be lurking around, watching over you like a good sister.

Daemon is, without a doubt, the worst of the Targaryens. At first, he didn't really like the idea of ​​having you in his family, as you weren't one of them, not by blood at least. You, in his eyes, were nothing more than a stranger your brother clung to, but he would make him see the truth, after all, you didn't even possess valyrian traits so how dare you be called Targaryen? But to everyone's surprise and himself, Daemon also became so obsessed with you as soon as he laid eyes on you. Aemma and Viserys were worried at first about Daemon as they knew what he was like but they were relieved a little bit to see that he got along with you, in fact, more than well. Daemon is the most dangerous of all your family, he is possessive and violent, and he saw you as a property to be claimed by him, to be raised and loved by him alone. He didn't see Viserys capable of raising you, as his brother is weak in his vision and he was too protective of you, but Daemon wants you to be able to fight for yourself and he'll be more than happy to teach you how. He spends all the time that is available to him with you (and the time that is not his) talking about the future with you, about how he will be King and that you will stand by his side. Daemon's unpredictable and volatile nature should not be ignored as he is more than capable of taking you away with him and he will if the opportunity arises.

Family is what you all are and what you will be forever and ever. They're all obsessed with you to different degrees, but if there's one thing they all agree on, it's: protecting and loving you above everything and everyone else. Aemma and Viserys are the ones most aware of what you're being forced to deal with, at a such young age, and they know the delicate situation and what they did in taking you away from your original family, they know all of that, but they selfishness and the love they feel so much for their precious child speaks much louder. Rhaenyra has grown up to believe that you are indeed her sister/brother, she doesn't care if you don't look alike, you are sibilings and that's final, she loves you and is always by your side, you have become everything and the one person that she trust and she will be cursed if she lets you go. Daemon doesn't care about any of that, he just wants you with him and will be offended and furious if anyone questions his intentions with you. How dare they? You are his niece/nephew and he loves you like a father and only wants the best for you, and the best for you is to staty with him, he very often quarreling with Viserys over this. Daemon has no morals and would kill many, but he would never lift a finger at you. Never.

However, after Aemma's death, the situation became unbalanced and everything became even more fragile. You were in tears and Rhaenyra and Viserys looked to you for comfort, all three of you suffered the same: the loss of the woman you loved so much. Rhaenyra would cry in your arms and Viserys would often just hold you without saying anything, just letting the tears fall onto your shoulders. Both were coming after you for comfort, but you went to Daemon for that, as he was the only one who wasn't shaken by the Queen's death. To say that Daemon was happy to have you all to himself isn't enough to express what he felt, happiness and triumph perhaps? Triumph because you chose him over Rhaenyra and Viserys to be consoled, you chose him and that only adds to his illusion that you only trust and love him. Only him and Daemon will always keep that in his head.

When Viserys remarried and to Rhaenyra's friend, she didn't react well to this situation. Not only did she feel betrayed by her father and friend, she felt threatened, threatened with the promise of a male heir and being replaced. Rhaenyra implored you to keep as far away from Alicent and any children she might have as possible, for she couldn't handle the fear of losing you, especially after she saw that the new Queen seemed interested in you. Sure, you and Alicent have seen each other a few times, but Rhaenyra has always tried her best to keep you away from her friend because you are hers alone and after her betrayal, she couldn't imagine you leaving her for Alicent Hightower. No, she will not allow that to happen. Although Alicent has more ways to reach you, as the Queen, everyone knows that Viserys is very supportive of Rhaenyra and he will do what she asks. Rhaenyra knows you are safe from Alicent, but who knows for how long?

Daemon was exiled again and he hoped he could take you with him, but Viserys wouldn't allow it. He knew he could try to force you to go with him, after all, he had Caraxes, but after seeing that you didn't want to go, he ended up forgetting about it. For a while. Although he was busy fighting at the Stepstones, you never got out of his head, to the point of being a distraction, even after taking an arrow, you were all the prince could think about. Would you be safe? Do you miss him? Daemon is a danger to himself and having you in his head all the time just makes the situation worse. But on the one hand, you are his biggest motivation to live and win, he wants to see the pride on his face when he comes back victorious and feel your warm embrace that he so missed.

The Targaryen family dynamic never changed over the years and the affection for you only grew stronger and stronger, to the point where you became the only one capable of holding this family together. Viserys spent the most time with you over the years, you became the center of his attention as he grew older, the influence you have on the King is superior to any. Rhaenyra even after getting married and having children, was still stuck to your side, nothing will be able to separate the two of you and your support of her is what keeps her strong, her children would eventually develop their yandere tendencies for you like their mother. Although Daemon spent time in Essos with Laena and his daughters, he still sent letters daily and when he could, he would pay you a visit. Not even time will be able to take you away from them. From their obsession.

Jacaerys is extremely overprotective of you. He doesn't care if you're older and even better than he is at fighting, he still feels the need to protect you as you are part of his family and Jace is very protective of his family but even more so of you. The prince developed his obsession for you since he was a child, you have always been by his side and his mother, helping to take care of him and protect him and he is immensely grateful for that. Besides, you're like him, both different from the rest of your family physically, you didn't have valyrian traits but you were both Targaryen and that's all that matters at the end. He is very intelligent and somewhat manipulative and he won't mind having to manipulate you to get your attention and approval. Jace wants to impress you, he wants you to feel nothing but pride in him and when you praise him he melts. He just loves you so much, like the rest of his family.

Lucerys, of his brothers, is the most attached to you. He is possessive of your attention and will complain if anyone else has it, as he considers himself the most deserving of it. Luke is an intelligent and adorable boy by nature. He doesn't quite understand these twisted feelings he and his family feel for you, but he knows that you are precious and should be protected and adored, as his mother told him so. Lucerys is always seen around you, often holding your hand as he snuggles up to you, demonstrating to everyone that you belong to him, that you belong to them.

Joffrey, Aegon III and Viserys II for them being very young, they don't understand what's going on, they don't understand why their family is so involved with you, why they are so protective and obsessive about you. None of them understand what's going on, except what their parents tell them: you are their one priority. As the youngest in the family, they are, along with Lucerys, the most demanding of his attention. Little princes invite you to play and be a part of their pranks, as they know they amuse you. They're naive, the only thing they understand is how much they love you like the rest of the Targaryens did and there's nothing wrong with loving, right?

Rhaena and Baela didn't spend much time with you, having grown up in Essos, they lived most of the time with their mother and father, but things changed after Laena's death. You all met at her funeral, and you went to try to comfort the princesses. Baela and Rhaena had already heard of you, as Daemon always mentioned you when the opportunity arose, so they knew almost everything about your life and the love Daemon had for you, they just didn't expect to be obsessed with you either. They are quite calm in their obsession with you in reality, and they accept as long as you can spend time with them in an acceptable and dignified way, you will never see them complaining about not being able to spend enough time with you. But make no mistake, Rhaena and Baela are possessive like their father and they won't tolerate being left out by anyone.

The Targaryens are said to be closer to the gods than to men, but to them, you are the goddess/god they so adore and are madly obsessed with. You have so much power over them that people say they are your tamed dragons. This family is full of problems and disputes, but they will all be united when it comes to you. Unfortunately, the entire responsibility of a kingdom has fallen on your shoulders and your family's overwhelming possessiveness only makes the burden more unbearable to bear. Be wise in your future choices, (Y/N), for one wrong step could start a war, a war for you.

[stevesbipanic]

We're back with another soulmate AU cause I'm a sucker for them.

Steve had never known a time when the names of his soulmates weren't on his wrists. One platonic, one romantic. Some people were born with two romantic although rare, some born with two platonic, some with just one and some with none.

Steve couldn't wait to meet his soulmates, as a kid he told his mother that his soulmate was going to be the prettiest girl in the world and that his best friend would be the coolest guy ever.

He knew his parents weren't soulmates, his mother's soulmate had died when she was young and his father didn't have anything in his wrists. It didn't matter to Steve though, they weren't around much now that he was older.

He waited all through high school to meet his soulmates, Tommy and Carol had met each other in middle school and he wanted what they had. As the years went on, his parents grew distant, his world became more about popularity, he slowly forgot about his names. He went through girls with the hopes of filling the void inside of him.

It wasn't until one Nancy Wheeler didn't fall for his charms preferring to wait to meet her soulmate did it feel like a knock to the head. He found a friend in Nancy a friendship he didn't even regret once he was pulled in by proxy to a whole other world under their town. He held Nancy as she cried losing her platonic soulmate Barb and met her romantic soulmate Jonathan.

He felt more like himself now that he was hanging around friends that cared about each other rather than their images. He adopted a gaggle of children who also needed protecting from the monsters on their doorstep and started thinking about soulmates again.

Nancy helped him graduate, barely. He didn't want to leave Hawkins without the kids or Nancy and Jonathan and so he started working at Scoops Ahoy. Where he met his soulmate, finally. Robin Buckley was funny and loud and smart and beautiful. Steve didn't want to rush into anything in case he was wrong and by the time he had gotten up the courage to show her his tattoo there were Russians and blood, so much blood.

High on Russian drugs he confessed to her, told her about how she was everything he'd dreamt of in a soulmate when he was little. How she was funny and amazing and that he loved her. He hadn't expected Robin to start crying, words tumbling out how she's not what Steve wants, not what Steve deserves in a soulmate, that she can never love him the way he wants. That day Steve discovers who his platonic soulmate is. From that day they're inseperable.

Steve doesn't know how he went through life without Robin once she was in it. She got on great with all his friends, called him out on his bullshit, comforted him through nightmares and was always there for him. She taught him that it was ok to like boys and girls and that his romantic soulmate will love him despite his King Steve days because she loves him too.

After already having one soulmate in danger from the Upside Down he never dreamt that the first time he'd hear someone say his other soulmates name it would be attached with "murder". Slammed up against the walls of the boathouse, Steve didn't think he'd ever seen anyone as beautiful as Eddie.

"Soulmates huh?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Well, I know Dustin's one is definitely platonic, since he's a kid. Wonder what ours is?"

Steve wanted to tell him that he wanted everything with Eddie, but he knew his past, and knew that Eddie knew too. So he let himself hope, let himself laugh with Eddie, let himself be close. Nothing had been harder than leaving Eddie and Dustin there as distractions but he had a job to do.

As he'd held bloody bandages desperately to Eddie's wounds and begged him to stay awake, he wished he'd told Eddie everything he'd been thinking, how he was everything Steve had wanted and more.

"Please, Eddie! Stay awake, just hold on a little longer!"

"I think I figured us out, sweetheart."

And those were the last words Steve heard from his soulmate before Eddie had gone limp in his arms.

Steve held on hope for weeks beside Eddie's hospital bed. He had traced Eddie's name on his wrist over and over, memorising it. The tattoo had stayed dark and clear, Eddie was still there, he was still alive next to Steve.

Steve could've kissed Eddie as soon as he saw his eyes blink open but didn't want to injure him further.

"I figured us out too, Eds."

Little Steve had been right, his best friend was the coolest person he knew, and his soulmate was the most beautiful person he'd ever known.

[beansricejc]

juices like wine

werewolf!john wick x f!reader

synopsis: on a full moon’s night, you think you’ll be safe in this house alone with your fellow monster hunter.

warnings: monster!jw, cursing, pussy drunk activities, oral (f receiving), squirting, sniffing, watered down spec of masochism, dbf!john, age gap, dub con(?)

authors note: thx for all of ur messages, life is just too much rn and I’m attempting to keep up haha, here’s that spooky thing I promised

“Uh, are you sure this will-“

“Of course it will!” I rolled my eyes, tightening the cuffs on the iron cuffs on John’s wrists. “My dad’s book says that werewolves can’t break through iron. And his book is never wrong.”

John flashed me a skeptical look with his eyebrows raised before rolling those thin brown eyes. Hunting monsters has always been our side gig. Although, things became a little tricky when he had accidentally been bitten by a now dead furry friend, almost a month ago now. Tonight was the full moon, and there haven’t been any side effects but John insisted on taking no chances.

My partner in crime sighed, grunting a bit with discomfort as the iron restraints dig into his flesh a little.

“It better not be wrong. I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happened.”

My hand grabs his bearded and chiseled face, forcing John to give me his attention. There’s always been… tension, between the two of us. Yet neither have acted on it. He was my dad’s best friend after all, before my dad became vampire food on a job gone awry.

“Nothing is gonna happen.” I reassured him, my fingers squeezing his face a bit harder this time. John nods to himself, taking a few deep breaths. “It’s only for a night. Hell, I can just turn The Office on for you while you’re in here.”

Light hearted humor got me nowhere tonight. I’m an idiot. A fool. A fucking moron. That’s what I’m telling myself as I creep through the house on the second floor. A silver dagger in one hand, a phone in the other, with Charon on the other line, the closest Hunter in proximity to us in the state.

“His senses are better, he’s faster, stronger, you need to get out of there or just kill him.” Charon pleads. I grunt quietly.

“I can’t leave-“

A loud and bone rattling howl bounces off of the walls of the house, startling me. I froze in my tracks, cursing under my breath. I hang up the phone and slip it into the pocket of my leggings.

“You smell even better during a full moon.”

My breathing stops as I feel the breath of another behind me. I know damn well who that person is, his voice is much deeper and gravelly than normal, this isn’t him. This isn’t the John I know.

A yelp escaped my lips as two paw-like hands grab me from behind, tossing me over a huge shoulder. John’s shirt is mostly ripped all the way off, since his transformation took place under just a simple tee shirt and flannel pants.

“John! Put me down!” I shouted, legs thrashing as my fists beat at his huge back. Thud, thud, thud, it did nothing. I hadn’t even noticed that John had tossed the silver blade aside until I had tried to use it.

A deep throaty chuckle erupts from John’s mouth, right before he tossed me onto the bed of the master bedroom. I land on silken sheets as my eyes widen, experiencing John as half man, half wolf, for the first time. Fangs peek from his lips as his beard had become much more untamed and wild, even his hair is much longer and crazy.

Muscles bulge from his shirt, before he gets frustrated and rips it off with an irritated roar. The shreds of the fabric land on the wood floor, as his evolved muscles ripple over my cowering form on the king sized bed.

“Such a pretty girl. I’ve always known better than to have a piece of you to myself.” John speaks lowly, his red eyes linger over me. “But I can’t control myself tonight. I’m sorry sweetpea.”

“Wait, John, just, wait!” I know damn well it’s to no avail. His paws grab my thighs and push my legs to the mattress, as his nose buries itself in my clothed crotch. Frowning, I scream in objection but my squirming and resistance is futile. I can’t even beat John while we spar, of course I won’t even have a chance while he’s half man, half creature.

“Fuck, you’re ovulating.” John salivates and takes in a deep breath to get the scent of my cunt imbedded into his feral brain. With one tiny motion of his razor sharp claws, despite my avid protests, he sliced the crotch of my leggings open like butter.

“Hey hey hey! No! John, this can’t happen!” I stammer out quickly. John is far too heavy and I don’t stand a chance.

“Don’t worry. My cock is too big to give you right now.” John insists, dropping his pajama pants and tugging on his huge erection. It matches his insanely big body, one that I’m just realizing has been growing larger and larger ever since he began his chase.

My jaw dropped as I notice he’s got to be at least seven feet tall now, with a cock that’s about 10 inches long, but 4 inches wide. John seriously had a comically large and furry dick at the moment, and I had no idea if I should have laughed or just stayed quiet. So I picked the latter.

John drops to his knees, as both of his hands spread my thighs even further, taking a longer inhalation of the heat between them. Squirming under him, I couldn’t help but whimper and whine out of the pure tickling sensation. The feeling of his beard and nose on my folds were unfamiliar to say the least.

“John, get o-“

I stop talking and let out a moan as his big nose brushes against my clit. His long spongy tongue swiped efficiently on my folds, making them pliable enough to then plunge in a finger.

John let’s go of my thigh for half a second so he can shred apart my sleeping shirt, my tits falling out of the fabric. My nipples harden from the sudden air exposure. John growls against my cunt in response to that sinful visual. One of his paws smack my left breast, earning a gasp from me, while his tongue worked overtime inside of me.

Head like this only existed in porn, right?

Apparently not. Apparently, you can get head like this from your local werewolf.

My fingers dug at the bedsheets and also his head of messy long hair. My fingers even brush against his newly grown canine-like ears, I keep forgetting that this is only happening because John has turned. That meant, he was eating my pussy and needing to inhale my scent on pure instinct. If he doesn’t, he’d go insane. He’d lose control. Maybe even kill someone.

The mere thought of my vagina actually being the death of someone kinda has me in a chokehold at the moment.

“Mine. Mine. Mine.”

John continued to lick, suck, thrust, whatever he could to with his tongue to get my taste and scent locked into his memory. He’s even so desperate that he has managed to scratch up my thighs and stomach in the process. The cuts aren’t anything too deep, maybe a bit more than a cat claw. But I’d be in denial if I claimed the slight sting of his nails and there euphoric head I was receiving wasn’t a delectable combination.

A knot forms in my lower region, an unusual feeling. Not like an orgasm, no, this was something else entirely. I had no idea what to expect, but it sure as hell was shocking when I began to squirt all over John’s bearded face.

My cum splashed onto his cheeks and nose, even a bit of his forehead. The dribbles from my pussy coat his unkempt beard, and he catches his breath with an exhausted smile when he pulls away.

With my legs trembling and moans spilling from my mouth, I laid under his beastly frame, helpless. Exposed to my elder Hunter, it was a shock to see him as some vicious monster. My heart was nearly about to give out from the intensity of the orgasm, and from the pure shock I was still trying to comprehend.

While he collected my juices from his face and sucked them off of his fingers, my mind is racing as I wonder, is he even going to remember this tomorrow? When he shifts back, is it going to be awkward between us from now on? There’s no way he actually felt so strongly for me… right?

If he didn’t recall eating me out like it was his last day on earth, how am I going to drop that bomb? John’s hands grab my face, much like how I had a few hours earlier. His moist nose and forehead press against mine, smushing in a little. My own juices smear against my small face. John’s red eyes demand my full attention from mere centimeters away.

That same rough voice gives me a growling chuckle.

“Been waiting three years for that one, babygirl. Maybe now you’ll notice me.”

[paragonrobits]

suddenly i'm thinking about the implications that Marceline grew up ostracized, feared and rejected by other humans (she states that she felt she was a monster long before she became a vampire, and that implies regular contact with humans who would have been afraid of her before she started hunting vampires herself), and what this says about Simon himself, as well as his treatment of her reinforcing her own attitudes of respecting people regardless of how different they are

Simon saw her and only saw a little girl crying alone and immediately went to help her; she was OBVIOUSLY not human at a time when oozing zombie mutants were a serious threat, and he still beelined to make a stranger feel better even on top of his own issues

and THAT makes me think about how his kindness ultimately motivated her to be a far kinder person than she would have been otherwise, and how in time she met Finn and Jake and became THEIR friend, and after Finn and Jake learned of Ice King's past Finn went out of his way to be kind to him which in turn led to Ice King growing closer to people and finding stability which made it possible for Marceline to reconnect with him so he had a family again, and how a good deed circles round and round the world again and again

[aemondsbeloved]

Aegon and Aemond falling for someone the polar opposite of them headcanons

request: Aegon and Aemond with a significant other that's the complete opposite of them, but they fall for them anyway?

warnings: none!

a/n: I got super carried way so this is so long!!

Aemond Targaryen falling for someone the polar opposite of him:

growing up in the court of King Viserys you knew the King’s three youngest children well enough and while you mostly shared your time with Helaena, you knew of her youngest brother Prince Aemond too.

When you were children he was always very serious and you were too young to realize he wanted to prove himself, maybe to his brother that he was his equal or to his father. He was too caught up in his focus on finding a dragon and training that he did not pay you much mind.

That was fine enough to you as you were focused on your lessons with the Septa with Princess Helaena by your side as the two of you got closer over the years.

The Princess was very soft spoken and gentle, but her fascination with insects grossed out the other young girls at court your own age. You never minded, though, and would happily spend time in the gardens with her and her bugs if you could remain by your friend's side. 

Unlike Helaena though, you were not so soft spoken. You weren’t so loud and brash, but you did love to laugh and were not so shy as to not speak your mind. It was once said that your laugh and cheerful laugh could be heard in the gardens any time you were there.

Aemond being closer with his sister than with his brother began to see more of you. He did not find your personality as annoying as Aegon had portrayed, but he had to admit you were unlike the other girls at court who he knew only gossiped and pretended as though they did not judge his sister cruelly. He knew that in the very least you were truly kind to his sister and at his young age he still held a respect for you he did not hand out lightly.

You two were not close but you were kind to him whenever he would join you and Helaena when he tired of Aegon. Walking through the gardens with you and Helaena and listening to you both chatter away. Well, mostly you doing all the talking and Helaena adding in and to his surprise genuinely laughing alongside you. He saw how relaxed his sister was with you and appreciated how you were around her. As time went on he also became appreciative of how you made him feel a bit more relaxed as well.

It wasn’t until he lost his eye that he truly began spending time with you and even began to seek you out. 

After losing his eye he saw how everyone in court looked at him. The girls of court who once were kind in hopes of a friendships between them and the prince with its privileges looked at him as though he were a monster. He grew cold and sought solitude, wearing his eyepatch everywhere and training to become an excellent warrior and swordsman. 

Imagine his shock when you treat him the very same as you always had with kindness and wanting to draw laughter from him.

You both get older but one thing remains the same, you become Aemond’s friend. Truly someone he can be around without judgment and be his true self.

The older you got the more you matured into a fine woman your looks may have changed, but your personality did not mellow. You still loved to talk without care for what others might say and laughed without a care. Aemond wondered how Aegon could have ever called your laugh ‘the most irritable sound in the Red Keep’ when it was some days the only thing Aemond wished to hear.

Perhaps it is his cold exterior due to his mistrust but he starts to see you in a new light. It is hard for Aemond to believe that you see are so freely yourself. When you were strolling in the gardens he pointed out how another daughter of a lord remarked something negative about you, how you were the only lady who appeared to not know how to shut her mouth, you only rolled your eyes, remarking you did not care.

“How can you not care? She slighted you and you wish to let her make a mockery of you?” Aemond was angry, angry at an injustice, a slight done to someone dear to him.

You only said “It matters little what she thinks of me. I hold her in no regard at all, why should I care what someone of no importance to me thinks of me?”

You said that like it was so easy to let things go and continued your stroll, an easy and content expression on your face. Aemond wondered how you could be so carefree, so forgiving to others. Since he lost his eye he had cared only what others thought of him and how to avenge any slight. He really had always cared too much what people thought of him, even before he lost his eye he wanted to prove himself to others no matter the cost. 

And there you were, not caring of what someone thought of you because you did not care for them. If anyone else was like you he may have judged them harshly for their lack of cares for their reputation, but Aemond only admired you fiercely for it.

Feeling bold, he had asked you if you held him in high regard, wondering if he was another person you did not care for or not.

In reply you only told him, “Why of course, my Prince. I hold you in the highest regard of all those dearests to me.”

Dearest to me. The words rung in his head for weeks. He was a man grown now yet the words you said to him, a mere kindness he was sure, was all he could think about.

He had thought to put some distance between you, not really understanding why you affected him so but it only made him crave to be near you.

When he saw you again he could not deny the peace he felt from being in your presence. He knew then that he could not just be friends with you and that unwittingly to perhaps both of you, you had brought out a better side of him. Maybe you always had.

When you told him you missed his presence and worried for him he smiled, actually smiled which was a rare thing indeed. 

“Apologies my Lady, I would never wish to cause you worry,” He said, noting how your smile was somehow more radiant than he remembered like it had been months since he last saw it and not mere days. He could not deceive you any longer, he could not do so even if he did not realize his own feelings until a mere few days ago. “I’m afraid I cannot be your friend anymore my Lady.”

The crestfallen expression on your face made him curse himself and his phrasing. “I only mean that I care deeply for you my Lady and I cannot be your friend. I am afraid I have fallen in love with you and there is nothing I could do to just be your friend again.”

When you smiled, he almost felt like you were about to repeat the words he had told himself you would say, that you didn’t feel the same way. Instead, you grasped his large hand in yours and said, “Would it be such a bad thing to fall in love, dearest Aemond?”

He realized then he could hear you call him dearest for a lifetime and not be satisfied. “You mean to say you feel the same as I do?”

“There has never been someone else, why of course I do. I always have.”

Thank the gods for that, Aemond thought. The very next day, Alicent had accepted your courtship.

Aegon II Targaryen falling for someone the polar opposite of him:

When your father was invited to the small council of King Visery’s you had come with your father to the court a little girl, very shy and good natured.

You found a friend in Princess Helaena because there was not many other young girls in the court, and the Princess happened to just be the same age as you were. The Queen approved the friendship, seeing how you were just as shy and good natured as her daughter, though without a fascination with insects.

You were familiar with the Princess, spending most of your time with Helaena as a child and not crossing paths enough to make conversation with her brothers. 

As you got older and began maturing into a young woman your shyness was not something you grew out of, nor was your uncomfortability speaking to boys your age now, especially the princes.

If your father was more ambitious he might have been bothered by this but he cared for your contentment and knew your more reserved nature would not mix with boys who were so crude at this age, not a child yet not grown either.

Both the Princes frightened you, Aemond was very aloof and Aegon too bold. You thought yourself lucky that you could just spend your time with their kind sister who you felt such comfort around instead.

As years went by this routine of spending your days in lessons, having meals, and going outdoors with Helaena was a most comfortable routine. 

You knew you had reached your maidenhood and soon even your kind, tolerant father would seek out a match for you. This meant attending the balls, talking with these men, and most of all not being so reserved. Men, you had gathered in your time in King’s Landing, did not like reserved girls for their lady wife.

With this in mind, you snuck out of your chambers after dark, seeking a treat from the kitchens. Sweet cravings did not always plague you but on this night you wanted a treat when sleep evaded you.

You had done this once, well maybe thrice, truly too many times to count, and had never been caught. Your steps were light across the castle and you slowly opened the kitchen doors. 

Your relief at finding no one there was taken for granted and you saw your favorite treat leftover from this evening’s meal on the counter. Hopping on the counter with an especially unladylike flair you picked up the treat taking your first bite.

It was then, when you were at your most peaceful, that the door opened revealing none other than the Prince who you had sought to avoid the most, Prince Aegon. 

His expression was comically surprised, perhaps taken by surprise with how there was someone in the kitchens when he had not expected someone to be there. You could not judge as your expression looked the same, only exceedingly more horrified.

Your worries came in droves. What if he told your father? What if his father removed your father from the small council? Gods, what if you were sent back to your true born home? What if you were never to step foot in the kitchens again?

“I...” You started trying to think what to say. Maybe the words would come to you if you thought hard enough, if only your brain seemed to be working at this late hour. “I was—”

“You’re my sister’s lady-in-waiting aren’t you?” He asked abruptly and even you could see he was not at all sober. You couldn’t help looking a little aghast.

“No! I’m her friend. My father is on the small council” you rambled ceaselessly, not really meaning to tell him exactly who you are, and definitely not meaning to tell him your name on top of it.

You could see the gears whirling slowly in his mind but he was too sluggish thanks to his many glasses of wine to process this fast enough. You only grabbed your treat, pushing yourself off the counter and across the kitchen to leave before he could say another word.

It was only when you were on the other side of the castle in your room that you realized you had not addressed Prince Aegon with the respect drummed into you at a young age. The embarrassment was one thing but the shame of it was another. What sort of lady does not address her prince?

The next day Helaena asked you how you slept and you nearly felt as hot as dragon fire, still ashamed that you not only went into the kitchens but also disrespected her brother. 

It was a few weeks and you had not gone into the kitchens in fear of running into the prince but even your sweet tooth could not be evaded for long. Even the thought of running into the Prince was not enough to perturb you from going to the kitchens.

When you opened the doors to the kitchens you let out a sigh of relief knowing you were, in fact, alone. This did not last long though because the past repeated itself and who came through the door only a moment after you but Aegon.

For a moment he just held your gaze and you swore you would rather go to the Dragonpit without Helaena than be here, your mind already thinking how you could get past him. 

Apparently your unease could be felt by the Prince by the nervous look on your face. “Do not look so worried,” He said as kindly he had ever heard himself speak. Even to his siblings, he never really showed true kindness. “I only wanted something from the kitchens. I will not be in your way.”

Your slightly shocked expression was mirrored with how he felt. He was not sure why he did not hold the fact that he had now seen you twice in the kitchens when you ought not to be and that this was the second time you did not even address him. If it was anyone else he might have flaunted his authority, gods know he had done it before. But for a reason, unbeknownst to him, he could not seeing himself do that to you.

You reluctantly sat when he gestured to the seat by the island in the kitchen that had the sweets you had desperately wanted. You could not be comfortable around him, though. This was one of the princes you had done everything to avoid, after all. “What brings you to the kitchens, my Prince?” 

Your voice was timid and gentle and Aegon found himself wishing you did not call him by his title and his name instead. 

He could not stop the chuckle he let out as he said, “wine”

He did expect the judgement, everyone at court thought him a drunkard, his family included. Why should you not share the sentiments.

“I think a sweet helps me find sleep on my most restless nights, my prince. I quite understand.” 

The kind smile on your lips and that gentle voice did him in. Finding himself feel comfortable in someone’s presence for this first time since he could remember. 

Aegon did not reach for the wine. He did not want to wake up foggy headed and more importantly, he wanted to remember this, he wanted to remember you.

“I think I might have to try a sweet then, Princess.” He grabbed a sweet on the table that you had grabbed not just a moment ago. He could not deny the way he enjoyed the flustered expression on your face, the soft smile on his face portraying that. 

“I am not a princess,” You said lightly. “Only a lady.”

Aegon could not stop smiling. “Ah, my mistake,” He jested. “Perhaps I might have your name then, my lady. These titles confuse me so.”

He did not add that he could see you as a princess, if you were only his. If only someone as kind as you wanted someone like him.

It was a lie, he was lying in good nature still, but you did not mind. Another smile on your lips, but this one of two people sharing a joke. It was a real one, showing off your teeth and it was not one of the prim and proper ones ladies at court had to have. 

He only loved that smile of yours more when you shared your name and he repeated it, liking how it sounded when he said it on his own tongue. When you said his own name after a few moments he realized he loved how you said his most of all. 

Leaving the kitchens after a few hours of talking with you and eating sweets, Aegon had lost track of time without a drop of wine for the first time in his life.

As time went by you went to the kitchens without wanting a sweet, only in hopes that you might see Aegon. He did the very same. Nights sharing whatever sweet treat the kitchens had left and laughing and talking with one another were not uncommon. He was able to tell you the things that plagued him most that he had never told other people before. 

He had not even noticed he stopped drinking wine. But his mother had.

Besides the lack of his poor behavior, she had noticed Aegon seemed.. lighter, happier even.

She did not need to wonder who was behind Aegon and his change of behavior when one day who was Aegon walking besides but you, her daughter’s closest friend and the daughter of someone who sits on the King’s small council. 

It all made sense. The lack of him drinking, his change for the better, and you by his side. Shocking herself Alicent could so clearly see you by his side outside of this hall. The way you looked at him, the lighter way about him, the comfortablilty between you both. She only had a question to ask her son now.

The next day Aegon was striding up to you across a hall in the Castle while you walked with Helaena, gently pulling your arm from her to the other side of the hall. 

When you asked him why he had so abruptly took you from Helaena he only said, “My mother wishes us to marry, dearest lady.” Your smile and the way it lit up your face was enough to bring him great joy, urging him to cheekily add. “It seems I was right, you were always a Princess.”