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dovrt · 3 months

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Amortentia (Jegulus)

Regulus didn’t smell. It drove James insane sometimes.

He didn’t smell after quidditch practice, or even after just waking up. It was another one of those things about him that made him seem “perfect”. James hated it.

Regulus was so much more than the image he presented himself to be, but he’d gotten too lost in playing the part, maybe that’s all he’d become.

Every single “imperfection” had been driven away by his mother. Not just for Regulus, but for Sirius as well. The Black family had an image to maintain, high society they had to live in. They couldn’t accept body odor, crooked teeth, or any blemishes on their skin.

James didn’t know how they did it. But none of the Blacks had any negative body odor. No matter how much they sweat.

It’s not to say they don’t have a particular smell. According to Slughorn, everyone had a distinct smell, something unique about them.

Sirius smelled like wet dog fur, James knew this because he slept in the bed next to him and every night Sirius turned to padfoot in his sleep.

Narcissa smelled like spring, like her namesake— narcissus. Strangely intense, yet cool and floral. James had only placed the smell last year when they had grown the flower in herbology.

Walburga black smelled like roses, James imagined that’s what the queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland smelled like. It was suffocating if you had the displeasure to be near her, like a thousand thorny plants squeezing your windpipe.

James wasn’t padfoot, he didn’t memorize smells. But it’s hard not to notice how his closest friends smell. It made him feel warm, to be surrounded by so many people he loves, all with a distinct smell.

Remus smelled like chocolate, like wet fur, wooly sweaters, a warm fire and old books. James could tell that’s what Sirius was smelling in his cauldron right then. That’s the reason he was thinking so much about smells in the first place.

Sixth year brought with it responsibilities, but also more advanced potion making. James always wondered why he didn’t drop potions when he had the chance.

Sirius was blushing so hard, his skin tone matched the pink potion. James had to stifle his own laughter as Remus tried to go over the recipe once again to make sure they had made it correct. They were all paired up for this particular class. Sirius and Remus at one cauldron and James and Peter next to them. It used to be Sirius and James together, but after one too many pranks in the classroom, Professor Slughorn had separated them.

“Clockwise!” Remus corrected Sirius just before he could have ruined their potion. They were the second ones to finish their potion so Slughorn was already making his way towards the boys. “Bloody hell, Sirius. Stop overmixing it”

James exchanged a look with Peter. Why had he let Sirius pick Remus while pairing up again? Oh that’s right— Wingman duties

James was nowhere near as great as Lily or Remus or even Snivellus in potion making, but he managed. Mostly he used Remus’ notes and applied common sense. It drove Remus insane sometimes, how much work he’d have to put in to memorize something, only for James to make an educated guess about it. James couldn’t really explain how he knew stuff, he just did. Call it pattern awareness, or whatever.

“So from the way Moony was yelling at Padfoot, I’m guessing we have to stir it clockwise?” James raised an eyebrow.

Peter only snickered as he watched their other two friends bickering like an old married couple. “What’d you think Moony smells, James?”

“Wet dog” James replied easily, “And that awful old leather jacket Padfoot refuses to throw away,”

“I bet Sirius smells chocolate and wool”

James had known Peter for years, they'd had baths together when they were babies, learned how to ride a bicycle from James’ father, spent ten christmases trying to make gingerbread houses and so many more memories.

That’s all to say, James knew what Peter smelled like. He had a distinct cologne he swore worked wonders on the ladies, and as stereotypical as it was for the rat to love cheese, he really did.

So if James was in love with his best mate, that’s what he would have smelled.

But instead when he dared to take a whiff of the potion (after coughing violently because it was pretty strong), all he smelled was broom wax, old books and paint.

“Mmmhmm” Peter grinned, “Camembert, and candy. Smells so great I’m hungry now. And you?”

“Old books” He frowned, “And paint”

“Careful, Pads might think you’re in love with Moony too”

James wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He was glad he didn’t smell lilies, relating to his old embarrassing crush. It had been months since he had obsessed over Lily Evans and even thinking about that time made him cringe.

James had quickly realized he had no idea what love was supposed to be. He grew up watching his parents so immensely in love he’d been in love with the idea of love and the idea of Lily Evans. And ideas are dangerous things to be in love with.

For his sake and Lily’s, he was glad he stopped liking her.

But after Lily… well, there had been someone James had grown a liking too. And he couldn’t help the disappointment when he didn’t smell Regulus in the potion. He took a few more whiffs, just to be sure. But to no avail. The potion still smelled the same.

James wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe he was just incapable of loving. Because he couldn’t smell Regulus, that had to mean he wasn’t in love with the boy as he had previously thought. This was clearly a Lily situation again. And that bothered James. Mainly because he wanted to be in love. Not just because of his fantasy of being so in love with someone, but also because Regulus was so lovely.

He was witty and sharp, beautiful and sarcastic, knowledgeable and petty, headstrong and stubborn but also sweet and funny. He seemed to positively glow under James’ praise. James loved it when he flushed pink, James loved it when he shot back a retort, when he smiled a secret smile for only James, when he dragged his long fingers over James’ skin— touch for the sake of touch. James loved every single thing about Regulus, the way his eyes crinkled when he tried to stop himself from laughing at one of James’ bad jokes, the way he sneezed, the way his lips parted, the way he tasted so sweet when they kissed, but most of all, James thought he was in love with Regulus.

He wasn’t sure what smell he was searching for. He knew Regulus didn’t smell. He didn’t have a signature smell like Peter’s cologne. But James was still disappointed.

He wanted to make Regulus feel loved, he wanted to be in love. He had said it once and Regulus had said it before.

Three simple words.

And what if they were a lie?

A knock on the door made Slughorn change directions. He had been heading toward James and Peter’s potion to check it, but he walked toward the open door.

James would have recognised those curls anywhere.

Even before Regulus was fully visible, stepping into the doorway, eyes searching the class, James was grinning. Who cared what the stupid potion said? The potion could be wrong. Maybe James and Peter brewed it wrong.

All that mattered was that Regulus lit up James’ world, it genuinely felt that way. Just passing him in the hallways, getting to stare at him as he stared at the stars, just listening to him talk about astronomy or his favorite paintings felt like a reward to James.

So yeah, fuck the potion.

James Potter was in love with Regulus Black.

That’s when he spotted the paint splattered on the edges of his otherwise neat robe. He was handing a book he must have borrowed back to Slughorn. His eyes landed on James and though he tried to keep his composure in thanking the professor, James grew ecstatic at the acknowledgement.

The effect Regulus had on him really had to be studied.

Just before he left, he sniffed the room, his eyebrows furrowing in that Regulus Black way as he mock glared at James. He had the face of an aristocrat but the mind of an artist. Maybe he was both.

James was thankful his table was the closest to the door and the others were too busy either bickering, fawning over their potion or still completing it.

“You smell, Potter” Regulus scrunched his nose in disgust, turning to walk away, “Didn’t you shower after quidditch? It’s disgusting, it’s a wonder the whole room isn’t gagging with how strong it is, even your sandalwood perfume can’t mask it.”

James could barely say anything before Regulus had walked away.

Paint splatter, the old books in the room of requirement and Regulus’ personal collection, the broom wax from when James had watched him polish his broom before a match against Hufflepuff.

Slowly the pieces floated together and James thought he had started floating too. He felt light, like a floating lantern, a ball of warmth in his chest.

And what had Regulus been talking about? James twisted his ankle his last game. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t cleared him to fly the whole week, he had been moping about not being able to play.

When he looked at Peter, his friend was looking back with an amused look.

“Fucking hell, Prongs”

“Don’t tell Padfoot”

#jegulus oneshot #jegulus #dead gay wizards from the 70s #starchaser #amortentia #james and regulus #regulus black #james potter #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black

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bogleech · 4 months

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It's a shame they did almost nothing at all with it aesthetically but do people know the yokai ladies working at the Spirited Away bath house are slugs?

I even remember this being explained in an official promotional website for the English theatrical release, which called them the reincarnated souls of slugs.

It's supposed to be in the same way these guys are a spider and toads, they just didn't make the slugs as visually obvious (BOOO!)

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 month

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Jacaerys returns to Dragonstone after spending some time in Winterfell. He comes back looking differently…and has learned some new things 😏👅🐱

Request: 9 for Jacee ‘’Where have you learned to do that?’’

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), slight fingering, assumption of cheating

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Months have gone by since the prince Jacaerys left for Winterfell to gain House Stark and the North for the cause of his mother, Queen Rhaenyra. His visit should have been a short one, but Cregan Stark insisted he spent more time in the North. According to his letter, Lord Stark had taken a liking to him and wanted Jacaerys to get a true experience of the North. He said that getting closer to the northmen would help gain their support.

Life on Dragonstone was lonely without him. A part of yourself was missing.

You spent time with Baela and Rhaena, helped Lucerys get more confident with his dragon, played with Joffrey when no one would. You were in the early stages of a civil war, the adults didn’t have much time for the young boy. The Queen was grateful for your help.

A few days ago, after you got back from riding your dragon, a raven came from Winterfell — a new message from Jacaerys saying he should be expected to return in the late afternoon.

Excitement bubbled in your stomach.

Rushing to your chamber, you didn't want to greet him smelling of dragon. You shed your riding clothes as a handmaid helped you fill your tub with hot water. She added rose oil to make your skin soft and you made sure to scrub extra hard with the brush. You wanted to look nice for Jacaerys.

After bathing, you put on a clean dress and asked Baela for help with your hair. She was the best at braiding.

‘’Do you think he missed me while he was away?’’

Behind you, Baela chuckled as she twisted your braids and pinned them. ‘’I wouldn't doubt it, Lady Y/N.’’

Hearing a dragon's roar, you jumped and went to your window. The air was gloomy, making it difficult to see through the horizon. You bit your lip, searching for an olive green shape. Although he was a small dragon, Vermax’s red wings were easy to discern in the skies.

You glanced over your shoulder to Baela. ‘’They’re here.’’

She finished your hair, ensuring every strand fell perfectly in place, and you descended the stairs with Baela on your tracks.

As you reached the great hall, you saw the Queen and her children standing near the painted table, accompanied by a hubbub of voices. Lucerys talked animatedly about sword practice while a very excited Joffrey was jumping on his feet, excited to see his big brother. Rhaenyra told them to quiet down and give Jacaerys some air, which made you laugh.

The sound caught their attention, and Jacaerys' eyes shifted to you.

He had grown since he left — his shoulders broader, his stature more commanding. His once pin-straight hair now cascaded in soft curls that framed his face perfectly. He looked nothing like a Targaryen anymore.

‘’Jace,’’ you whispered, a smile lighting up your face as you approached him.

For supper, a small feast was held in his honor. Daemon and Rhaena joined you for the meal, raising their cup to Jacaerys’ return.

When the hour started to get late, you and Jacaerys retired to your chamber. Half-way there up the stairs, he pulled you into a corner of the staircase and kissed you the way he had been dying to since he got back. You pulled a moan out of him when your teeth glided against his bottom lip, and circled your arms around his neck as his hands were gripping your hips with a strength that was new.

A voice came from the staircase below — probably one of the servants —, prying the two of you apart. You giggled against Jacaerys' shoulder.

Once you reached the privacy of your chamber, Jacaerys shut the door and drew you to him again as he kissed along your jaw and down your neck. You moaned under the touch of his mouth, melting against him as your fingers worked on each other’s clothes, pulling at the laces and buckles until they fell off your bodies and onto the floor.

You tried to not step on your dress as you walked back to the bed, then let your shift slip down your shoulders and pool at your feet, leaving you fully naked.

‘’Gods.’’

You blushed as Jacaerys followed down your neck to between your legs, taking his time to admire your body. You had never felt truly desired before him. Only objectified — as were all women in Westeros.

‘’Do you like what you see, my Prince?’’ you asked, his eyes finding their way back to yours.

Jacaerys didn’t respond. All he did was gently push you down into the bed.

You expected him to get on the bed too, but to your surprise, he kneeled at the end of it and pulled you close to the edge. A frown drew between your eyebrows as you looked down. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing on the floor, but the words got caught in your throat as Jacaerys kissed the inside of your thighs.

It was something new, but not disagreeable.

Then, he pushed your thighs further apart and pressed the sweetest kiss right over your slit, causing you to squirm.

‘’Jace, what are you—’’

Your question died on your tongue as he peaked out and flicked your clit, sending a jolting sensation up your core. Jacaerys didn't stop there — he was far from finished with you. He laid his tongue flat and licked a fat strip up your entrance to your clit, stirring a gasp from your lips.

Your reaction made him smile, encouraging him to pursue. He took a second lick of your cunt, then captured your clit between his lips to suckle at. You let out a mewl of pleasure, your hand traveling down your body to clutch at Jacaerys's soft hair. He alternated between sucking and licking at you, the room filling with obscene noises as your legs tightened on each side of his face, caging him.

Releasing your clit, Jacaerys slid his tongue between your folds, tasting your arousal on his tongue. You've had his fingers inside you, but never his tongue. Arching your back, you pushed against his face, asking for more. And Jacaerys was happy to give it to you, adding a finger to the mix and pushing deeper inside you.

With your free hand, you clutched the sheets, biting your lips and holding back the moans that wanted to slip out. Had Lucerys’s bedchamber not been so close to yours, you would not have held them back. But y0u didn’t wish to scar his young ears. The poor boy would not be able to look you in the eyes again.

Jacaerys withdrew his tongue and added a second finger, moving the former back to your clit and making a slobbering mess all over you.

The rush of pleasure filling your body intensified and you rolled your hips into his face with abandon as your orgasm snapped. Your husband’s name left your lips in a delicate whimper, throwing your head back as he lapped at you, taking everything you were giving him.

Easing your hands off his hair, you slowed your hips down.

Jacaerys took the cue and left your pussy alone.

‘’Where did you learn that?’’ you asked, looking down between your legs as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He rose to his feet and fell back on the bed with you. ‘’The North.’’

Your heart sank, and a knot formed in your stomach. Thoughts raced through your mind, thinking he had bedded another woman. You would have never thought that he would commit infidelity.

Seeing the concern etched across your face, Jacaerys reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. ‘’No,’’ he said softly, his eyes searching yours for understanding. ‘’Not…’’ He shook his head. ‘’Never.’’

His words washed over you like a wave of relief.

‘’Northmen, when they get drunk, they talk a lot. About their hunts, about their horses, about the things they do to their women in bed. I didn’t know women could be kissed there, but I wanted to try it. Did you…did you enjoy it?’’

A smile curled on your lips as you looked at him. His physique may have changed while he was in the North, but inside, he was the same nervous boy you wed in the spring.

You nodded slowly. ‘’Can you do it again?’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon imagine #game of thrones

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loveslibrarywp · 5 months

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Kindly begging pretty please for Cregan content with Rhaenyra’s daughter!reader and her going to Winterfell/marrying him for the sake of the Blacks 🙌

Marriage for duty

Cregan Stark x Velaryon/Strong!reader

Summary: After delievering the message and proposal from your mother to the Lord of Winterfell, you’re now stuck with getting married to a Lord you barely know. Yet, he comforts you during your time at Winterfell and completely changes your mind.

Warnings: Cregan being a cutie.

Authors note: shitty summary but whatever..

You sigh as you take off your fur coat as you were now in the heat of your chambers. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, taking in some of your last days as a free, unmarried woman.

Your mother proposed that you marry Lord Cregan Stark, a man you had just met. She did this to unite their houses and to gain more men for the war. Cregan wasn’t cruel or evil from what you saw, and he wasn’t old either. He was a handsome man, that was a plus to this arrangement.

But, you weren’t ready for marriage. You didn’t know much about being a wife or your duties as such. You picked up your comb and brushed out your long, dark curls. After a long day of negotiating and talking to the men of Winterfell, you needed a hot bath.

A knock came from your door, startling you. You put down your wooden comb and opened the door. A gush of cold wind came rushing through. It was Cregan standing outside.

He quickly came in and shut the door. “My apologies for my sudden arrival, my lady.” He said as he looked down at you. “It is alright, my lord.” You said as you went to go add more firewood to the burning flames of your fireplace.

“I have noticed that you aren’t very comfortable here..” he said as he watched your form move around the room. “I’m fine, my lord. Just not used to the weather here is all.” You said as you brushed your hands on your dress as you awkwardly laugh.

“It is not that. Perhaps, you aren’t very comfortable with me and our betrothal?” He questioned as he cleared his throat nervously. You look up at him, “No, my lord. It is the idea of marriage itself. I fear I am not ready.” You sigh, your face full of sorrow.

He steps towards you and takes your hands into his grasp, “you will be a wonderful wife, I know it. And I will be a good and faithful husband.” He reassures you, caressing your hands with his fingers. “I know you will be, you seem to be a very kind man.” Your face feels hot and his gaze is intense. Your eyes drift to the ground to avoid his eyesight.

“You’re too beautiful to hide your face.” He said as he lifted your face up to meet his gaze. Your eye widened and you blush furiously. A little smile appears on your lips, “you charm me, my lord.”

“That is the goal, my lady.” He smirked, you laugh at his remarks. His smile only grows at your laughter.

“I shall take you on a walk through the village tomorrow. Maybe I can even introduce you to my favorite stalls that sells the most delicious desserts you will ever have the pleasure of tasting.” He goes on, you smiled up at the man, feeling much better than you did before.

“I’d like that very much, my lord.” You said. He gleamed at your approval, “perfect, I will see you in the morning then.”

“Until then…” you said with a bright smile. “Goodnight, my lady.” He kissed your hands, never breaking eye contact with you. Your cheeks had to be redder than cherries by now.

“Goodnight..” you said as you watched him leave your room. Maybe marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all..

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan fanfiction #hotd cregan #hotd #house of the dragon #winterfell #house stark #rhaenyra targaryen

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knightsickness · 2 months

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westerosi perfume culture thoughts based on medieval/early modern ^^

incense in septs to the point of both cat and sansa immediately thinking of the smell of it when thinking about the faith. this is fully a ‘the faith is just catholicism’ thing theres reference to a censer being used at tywin’s funeral, though this is also to cover the smell of the body - i believe its implied theyre using a lot more incense than they typically would and failing to overpower the rot smell

scented candles and incense are both used in septs and to scent rooms - scented candles higher-end, beeswax candles, which even unscented smell quite sweet and are quite expensive (they burn cleanly and don’t spit). animal fat tallow candles are much cheaper but perfume can’t stop rotting fat smelling of rotting fat it just combines with it. tallow tends to be used in poorer settings, for light not scent

scented beeswax candles used by tyrion and cat, and in the sept of baelor - imo v unlikely most smallfolk or smaller septs are buying them regularly, especially considering how many candles they need to keep lit. i’d say tallow 90% of the time beeswax on holy days

basically every noble in kings landing seems to wear perfume, ned specifically repulsed by the fact that robert now does which is crazy. whats roberts taste in perfume like

varys specifically is always described as perfumed, which is like. effeminacy due to eunuch status he leans into but also his ambiguous origin - while a lot of people in westeros wear perfume it seems to be significantly more popular in the free cities + beyond, vv frequently mentioned in dany chapters

perfumed and powdered often go together, varys and lysa off the top of my head - powders could also be scented, quite popular in france

multiple references to oldtown being heavily perfumed, dual reference to incense as a faith centre and worn perfume on a dowager, oldtown as a wealthy city and consumer centre

perfume also strongly associated with prostitution, an irony - septs and brothels often scented with incense, the ‘perfumed boy’ slaves victarion kills, satin wearing scent in his beard

popular scents rarely described in more detail than a type of flower or ‘sweet’ - most interesting perfume a westerosi lady wears is taena’s wildflower and musk, which cersei compares to the smell of moss

the tyrells seem to only wear rosewater this is pretty explicitly part of their branding as a house. even the blue bard a tyrell servant washes his hair with rosewater. most roses actually don’t distill well i’m assuming they have some westerosi equivalent to damask roses grown in bulk at highgarden or some other reach territory (probably at highgarden their scent in the gardens would be part of the tyrell image cultivation there. henry viii did this specific thing so you would smell his rose perfume in the gardens even when he was away from home which some historians have referred to as a ‘serve’) only like two varieties of rose work in perfuming. i’d also speculate that the roses margaery and her ladies brought to tywin’s funeral, if they were strong-smelling enough to cover the smell of an unnaturally rotting corpse, were probably roses scented with rosewater

perfume application on people typically oils, waters and more rarely waxes - multiple mentions of perfumed beards or hairstyles and waxes would be easier for that - perfume in baths common for the wealthy

no mention of scented accessories e.g. gloves or fans, though both immensely popular in elizabethan england - are there civet cats or equivalent in westeros? there are whales and thus presumably ambergris, taena’s perfume referred to as musky but unclear if this means it contains actual musk - animal perfumes are best for scenting leather, strong and waxy and other lighter scents can cling to them. dany wears scented silk clothes

tyrion associates worn perfume strongly with old whores, which suggests cheap perfume widely accessible, probably perfumer’s shops in major cities (notable bc otherwise we could conclude perfumers worked primarily for aristocratic patrons)

there are probably westerosi perfume-makers but its also likely theres a solid luxury import trade - dorne and the free cities both have established distinct perfume cultures and strong trade links with merchants

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire

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cherubify · 2 months

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PUPPY LOVE / LEON KENNEDY

3827 words

cw: puppy hybrid f!reader, masturbation, dirty talk, virginity, fingering, mentions of other characters and lore / minors dni

Leon didn't know what to do when he found you that night. He had returned from the gym when he found a little thing sitting at the steps outside his apartment complex. You were a little mutt, curled up into a trembling ball. Your fluffy tail coiled around your shaggy, dirty fur as your big puppy eyes stared up at him.

It would've been cruel to leave you to the elements, he lamented. And how cruel of a human would he be to say no when you began wagging your tail when you met his eyes?

"It's almost like you want me to take you home," he squats down at the base of the stairs. He held out his fingers and you sniffed him cautiously. When you had your fill, you lapped at the pads of his fingers with a soft yip. He stroked your droopy ears halfheartedly.

Just one night, he decided. He'd take you in, give you a shower, a meal and find your owners at first light tomorrow. If he failed to locate them, surely the local shelter would take you in, right?

So he scooped you up and brought you into his little apartment. It wasn't anything fancy, small for two but cosy enough for a single guy. He set you on the floor and you sniffed the tiles curiously. You wrinkled your nose and shook your head.

"C'mon," Leon gestured for you to follow, and you obediently padded after him into the bathroom. He placed you in the bathtub and ran a warm bath for you. It was a little scary so you tried to climb out a few times. But his firm grip prevented you from running, so you gave up and let him do as he wished.

When he finished, he rubbed you dry with a fluffy towel and a blowdryer. It was way scarier than the bath, but you dared not to escape when he furrowed his brows and stared at you pointedly. You whimpered as the stranger rubbed his hands all over your fluffy body.

Despite his rugged touch and scary frowns, he was a kind man. He even prepared a bowl of shredded meat for you. Up until now, you had been scavenging for scraps in the alleys.

"Slow down," he ordered. He squatted beside you and ran his fingers through your fur. "You're gonna throw up if you force it all down."

He was right, you did barf out your insides later. But a soft whine and well practiced sad puppy eyes did the trick to placate him.

You paced on top of a nest of towels. Leon had prepared it for you beside his bed. When you were satisfied, you curled into a ball and laid your head on your paws.

The brunette plopped onto his bed. Shirtless, he was enveloped by the soft glow of moonlight. Leon gazed tiredly at the puppy across him. He didn't expect this much work for a tiny mutt like you.

"It's just for tonight, so don't get too comfortable here. You hear me?" he warned as he fell back onto his mattress.

You yipped once. He closed his eyes, ready to let sleep take him.

On the brink of consciousness, he heard the sheets rustle. With one eye open, he saw you clamber up the bed clumsily, tiny paws gripping the sheets. You crawled over and settled beside him. You rested your head sweetly, droopy ears pressed against your head. Almost as if you were asking to sleep next to him.

Too tired to react, he closed his eyes. Then day came and he began his search.

…

Somehow, an entire month passed and there were still no signs of your owners. He even painstakingly left posters in the neighbourhood with a printed photo of you and his house number. However, nobody contacted him. Other than that one grandma that attempted to hook him up with her daughter. But he digressed.

His plan to drop you off at a shelter also backfired. When he walked into the building, the lady at the desk recoiled the moment she laid eyes on you. You even bore your teeth at her, which you never did. According to her, the 'mongrel' in his hands had caused a hell load of trouble during its stay. A fire broke out in the shelter a while back, and you had escaped during the chaos.

When he enquired if anyone else would be willing to take you in, you began to put up a fight and caused quite the scene in the shelter. So he begrudgingly left with you and bite marks punctured in his sweater. He reprimanded you about it later at home.

"You're such a pain," he lamented as he scooped pellets into your bowl. It was no gourmet meal, but it was delicious enough to elicit a delighted yip.

You learnt that this man was called Leon Scott Kennedy. He was a government agent, whatever that meant. He was smart, handsome and a huge tease. He would slap your sides playfully to disturb you, even though he knew you would jump around unhappily after. Despite his mischievous behaviour and quips, he treated you kindly and patiently. You liked that about him. He was much kinder than the people you encountered on the streets.

But sometimes, you could feel a deep sadness emanating from him. At times, he would wake up in cold sweat. He never spoke about it– but he would stand at the balcony, staring at the night sky with a distant look in his tired, blue eyes. You hated feeling helpless, you yearned to comfort him. But all you could do was sit by him patiently, hoping your feelings could reach him.

As you lost yourself to your thoughts, the agent sat at the dining table, a can of beer in his hand. He rested his chin on his palm, swirling his drink mindlessly. Usually he would spend his evenings at the gym and occasionally in a bar. But now with you by his side, he made the conscious effort to return home earlier.

He watched from the corner of his eyes. You were hunched over your food bowl, gobbling your dinner. For such a small thing, you sure had a voracious appetite. You always ate like you were still a starved pup.

"Slow down," he chuckled. He leaned forward, fingers extended to you. You eagerly approached, wagging tail and all. He petted you with a smirk, "The food's not going anywhere, y'know?"

You lapped at his fingers playfully. Then you resumed wolfing down your pellets. The brunette wiped the slobber off his fingers on his sweatpants.

At this rate, you were his full fledged pet dog. A liability, but a cute one. Not so cute when you tried to bite him when he pissed you off. Which rarely happened, but still. He rubbed his temples together, wrinkles deeply etched in his forehead.

But there was no way he could keep you in the long run, especially when there was no guarantee if he would always make it back home.

"What am I gonna do with you?" he sighed.

The stress radiating from your owner perked you up. You peered up from your bowl for the second time.

You tilted your head. A moment of silence passed and your jaw twitched, "Do... do?"

His blue eyes snapped to you and you wagged your tail curiously. His fingers slipped and his beer splashed onto the table.

"I have bad news for you. And good news too," a man's voice filled the house. Leon left the house phone on speaker and you paced around nervously.

"Let's hear it, Chris. Bad news first," he said.

"We've tracked the origin of your dog. Turns out Umbrella's been busier than we thought," Chris lowered his voice. "She was a test subject, along with other mutts, likely her litter. It was a similar project to Project Cerberus, but they produced inferior results. They were dumped in the Arklay Mountains. It’s likely they were torn to shreds by the pack there."

Leon glanced at you warily; your eyes dropped as he maintained eye contact, "So she's dangerous?”

To think that a B.O.W had been sleeping next to him for the past month. How careless he had been.

Chris hummed, "Not exactly. The T-virus in her is dead. Here’s the good news: the guys from the labs said she carries antibodies for the strain she was infected with. The higher-ups are eager to extract her blood for studies."

"Okay, but how does that explain her aboty to talk?" Leon plopped down on the couch. You padded over and sat at his feet. "Did the virus mutate and turn her into some- some hybrid creature?"

"Beats me. But that's all I know. If I find out more, I’ll let you know," the man said before ending the call. The line beeped and Leon turned off speaker mode.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. You peered at him with your innocent puppy eyes. You had not spoken much since that night. But there was a newfound intelligence apparent in your eyes. picked you up and set you onto his lap.

"So you were abandoned by those bastards. Never would have guessed. Small world," he commented.

"Small... world," you mimicked. You placed your paws onto his chest and lapped at his face. His stubble was rough against your tongue, but you licked him anyway. A ghost of a smile settled on his face as he petted you. His face lit up suddenly.

“Oh! You’ve been nameless this whole time. I think it’s time I give you one. What do you think of… (name)?"

You shook your head, ears swaying side to side. He raised his brows, "Then, how about... Ada?"

You growled and barked, legs scrambling against him. He held you back and chuckled, "Just kidding. How about... (y/n)?"

He stroked your fur. You leaned against him and indulged in the warmth in his pets.

"I'm guessing you like it. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" He smiled, and you thumped your tail on his lap.

After that call, US-STRATCOM tasked Leon with babysitting you. The job was quite simple: ensure the special collar you wore stayed on at all times. It would track any fluctuations in your physical and mental state. An application on a tracking device would notify him of any changes too. Lastly, he would report to the research team on any developmental changes, such as improved speech, et cetera. From time to time, you would visit for blood samples too.

Thus, Leon was withheld from special operations temporarily.

…

Almost three months have passed since he found you, and about a month since he was tasked with your care. When he found you, you were mostly skin and bones. Now you had enough chub for him to pinch and tease. Much to your displeasure, eliciting distressed whines and playful bites from you. You had grown on him in such a short period of time. And him, to you.

Whenever he left and returned for work, you would sit at the door and bark greetings with a swishing tail. When he plopped down onto the couch, you would sprawl yourself on his thighs, nestling comfortably like he was your bed.

Leon was amused. He had never gotten a thigh pillow before but this dog somehow beat him to it. Unbelievable.

There were nights– or days– where he would return after meeting women. And those days were the least pleasant for you. You would growl brokenly with little fangs displayed, tail pinned between your legs.

To placate you, Leon would sacrifice his clothes and let you cover his face with dog slobber. You would spend the rest of the day marking him with your scent, burying yourself in every nook and cranny of his body. Only when you were appeased would you return to your sweet, easygoing self.

"You're such a needy pup," he exhaled sleepily. You were still busy rubbing your little body against his side even in the middle of the night. He placed a heavy hand atop your head. "Sleep."

You whined and relented, resting your head on his side. Big innocent eyes blinked at him as he stroked your head.

It should be annoying– the way you clung to him like super glue. But somehow he couldn't really be mad. Who could be with such a good girl? He stroked your ears fondly, he found it cute that you were this clingy with him, your owner.

But besides that, there’s been something kind of strange happening lately. Sometimes, Leon would find his bed sheets dampened with a strange liquid. It was sweet, with hints of arousal he was familiar with that women carried. But he never brought women home. And his sweet pup was not getting her cheeks clapped either. So where did this strange liquid originate from?

Whenever he asked you, you would run off to occupy yourself with toys. So he figured maybe you've been having wet dreams. If dogs could have them.

It was later than usual when your owner returned. When he called for you, silence greeted him back. Strange, you were usually at his beck and call. He searched his bag for his tracker and checked the tiny green screen. A red dot flashed incessantly on the screen, signaling a change in your physical or neurological state. He lowered his bags and whipped out his pistol. Had the T-virus returned and taken over you?

He scanned the halls carefully before arriving at the entrance of his bedroom. He listened intently. Soft, unsteady sounds leaked into the hallway. It sounded like whimpers. Had (y/n) finally transformed into a monster?

His hand rested on the doorknob. Then he turned it and slowly entered the room. He was attacked by the heavy scent of pheromones. It clung heavily in the air, and he shielded his nose with his arm as he scanned his surroundings. His gun leveled on his bed, where you lay.

Your legs hung in the air, back arched as your hand pressed against your soft, glistening mound. The moonlight filtering through the balcony curtains cast a silver glow onto the stranger. Your fingers drove into your insides greedily in a steady yet clumsy pace. The hand clamped over your mouth did little to mask your whimpers and sighs. He lowered his gun slowly.

"Leon..." Your sweet voice filled the air. You panted softly, toes curling as you chanted his name. That's when he noticed your tail, the same shade of fur as his puppy hybrid. And the special collar and the floppy ears atop your head were telltale signs. It seemed like you had transformed– albeit into something else. He pocketed his gun and stood at the doorway. You were too deep in your haze to notice him, despite the heavy gaze from your sole audience.

You were inexperienced– it was apparent in your sloppy movements. His sweet pup didn't know how to make herself feel good, huh? Maybe he could help with that– wait, what would you think if you knew these sick thoughts?

He licked his lips. It should disgust him. You were his lovely pet. So why was he getting excited instead?

A long winded sigh snapped him out of his daze. Toes clenched, you unfurled and clenched them rhythmically as you sped up. A cry escaped you as your stomach fluttered. You couldn’t cum, you’ve been trying for hours.

With a heavy sigh, you lowered your legs and started to sit up when your eyes met his. You stopped in your tracks and he lifted a brow.

"I think you forgot to ask if I enjoyed the show," he teased. Your blood ran cold. How long had your owner been watching you...?

"T-This isn't what you think it is," you stuttered, grabbing the sheets to hide your body. You squeezed your shoulders together fearfully, appearing smaller.

"Looked like you were enjoying yourself."

Leon sat beside you, his weight on the mattress dipped you towards him. He set his gun and tracker onto the bedside table. You turned away from him, ears pinned to your head.

"I don't know what you're t-talking about."

"Playing dumb? C'mon, you were begging for me." He chuckled darkly, and you hid your face in the sheets in your hands. You tried to leave, but he grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap.

"How 'bout your owner shows you how to feel real good?"

. . .

Your legs trembled as he spread them further with his. Sitting on his lap, he had an arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you securely against him. The hard-on pressing against your back sent shivers down your spine. He teased your slick slit as he dragged his thumb up and down, up and down in a slow motion.

"How much?" He demanded, his voice low and dark. You let out a whimper when he pressed against your clit, sending a jolt down your core. "How far have you gone?"

"Leon," you begged softly, "Please stop. You're scaring me."

"Don't you think it's too late to stop?" His chest rumbled with laughter, and you clenched embarrassingly. "Besides, who was the one moaning my name like a little whore? C'mon, tell me."

You shook your head, but you gasped when he spanked your pussy. The bundle of nerves twitched as you trembled. You leaned forward slightly, panting as you clutched his arm weakly. Instinctively, you tried to close your legs but he forced them open again.

"If you try that one more time I'm gonna punish you," he whispered into your ear. He snaked his warm tongue along the shell of your ear and you let out a muted moan. As he teased your ear, a digit gingerly slid into your weeping cunt.

"N-No... Leon- o-oh..." you tried to struggle but your eyes rolled back from the simple ministration. You sighed sweetly as you leaned into him. A smirk settled on his face. He knew you were bullshitting. Thank god for your honest pussy.

"Stop trying to put up a fight," the brunette muttered as he stroked your walls experimentally. You bit your lip and clung to his forearm. "Just feel it."

Leon kissed the back of your head as he slid another digit in. He was knuckles deep within you when you relaxed against him. Your chest heaved with soft pants as you gazed down at where you were connected. Such a good girl, you stopped putting up a fight when you finally got what you wanted. He was sure to reward you for your good behaviour.

He began to move, eliciting whispery moans and whines from your soft lips. The sound of your wetness and his thrusting filled the room. Any shred of embarrassment had dissipated with each loving stroke of his fingers. Your brain was turning into mushy matter. You could barely hold a coherent thought. It felt so different from when you did it, and so, so much better. If only you had gotten his help from the start, then you could've felt this good all along.

You clutched him weakly, body trembling as you panted harder with each thrust. The funny feeling in your belly was growing, pulsating like a burning star. You pushed against him, eyes glassy. "Owner- Leon-'' you babbled, "Stop stop stop-"

He kissed the top of your head tenderly, "I'm here. Just be a good girl and feel it all."

He coaxed you through your orgasm as you shook and trembled like a leaf in the wind. When you finally finished, he withdrew his fingers from you with a soft squelch. You laid limply in him, thighs twitching as stars twinkled in your blurry vision.

His slick fingers rested against your plush lips. You willingly open up and lap at his digits.The taste of your arousal was sweet but slightly bitter, a strange combination, you sleepily wondered as you swirled your tongue around his appendages.

With a soft pop, you freed his fingers and collapsed against his chest entirely. You tried to match your breathing with his, and he stroked your hair and side lovingly. A few moments passed when he finally spoke up.

"Since when did you start transforming? If that's the right word." His voice was soft, like he genuinely wanted to know.

You peered up at him meekly. Your volume fell with each word, "For a few weeks. I didn't know how to tell you. Was scared that you'd abandon me. And you won't be my owner anymore."

"You don’t have to worry about that." He frowned. He placed a fleeting kiss on your lips, "I’m not gonna abandon you. Not now, or ever."

You clung to him, placing your head over his heart. It drummed in the confines of his chest, like an unwilling prisoner. You curled up against him as he looped an arm around your smaller form.

"So those fluids were from you all along?"

You nestled into him. You hummed in agreement, and he looked up at the ceiling.

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” he laughed. “You could’ve told me sooner. Then I could’ve helped.”

"... I was jealous," you mumbled to him.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

You pouted and buried your face in his chest. Your tail thumped heavily on the bed and he raised a brow questioningly.

. . .

"Where did you get that?" He peered up from his newspaper. The agent sat on the couch, staring at the girl across from him.

You wore an oversized tee that looked like it would fall off your shoulder at any second. It hung above your knees. And when you twirled, he caught sight of your polka dotted panties. He slowly set down his newspaper.

You twirled for him again. "I look super cute, don't I? I found it in your closet."

"Knew it. It looks good," he gestured for you to come, and you hopped towards him. You took a seat on his lap, your legs placed over his. He stroked your hair gently and kissed your nose. "Though I think you'd be even cuter without it."

"Huh? Wait-" you tried to escape but he caught your wrists. He pulled your shirt over your head and swiftly repositioned you so that you laid on the couch whilst he knelt between your legs.

The brunette hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, maintaining eye contact as he pried your thighs open. He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh and he hooked your underwear with his fingers. As he pressed more kisses to your thighs, he he slowly pulled down your panties. Your breath hitched in your throat.

"How do you want it today?" He muttered against your skin.

"Anything if it makes owner happy," you blushed as you curled your toes expectantly.

He grinned.

"Good pup.”

all content written by @puppyina ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open for any past written characters.

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thebadboyfanclub · 10 months

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I Don’t Think I Can Do This (Daemon x Reader)

Hey y’all so I know I was supposed to write another request but my job has cause my imagination to ran dry and this was certainly easier cause i wanted to write something that shows the burden that women carry and also that Daemon is a very grey character, I hope you guys like it

The story of (y/n) Eaglemore and Daemon Targaryen did not start as a love story, one would suppose that seems to be a common trait amongst the concept of arranged marriages, especially to a young maiden of an independent kingdom to the rogue prince Targaryen, their marriage was the establishment of Eaglemore joining their forces with the Targaryens, (y/n) was dressed in her traditional attire with her hair in an intricate style, she was breath of fresh air in the house of the dragons, a proud Eagle that was brave enough to fly with the dragons as the flag with the colors of red and black flew next to the black and red she assumed the similarities were bound as an omen for success.

That was quickly ripped out of her mind at the bedding ceremony that she endured, the prince was not brutal, yet she had hoped that he would forbid it, he was cold and only placed a kiss at the top of her head after it was done before he left her laying while the ones that observed it cleared the room, tears streamed down from embarrassment while the handmaidens helped her get up to assist her with her bath.

“Husband!”

She exclaimed excitedly before she skipped over to Daemon who was preoccupied with having a conversation with Viserys was much more important than turning his head to face her, alas the newlywed stood by his side and reached for his hand to get his attention, innocently she squeezed it only to be met with an annoyed expression as he gazed intensely at her.

“What?! (Y/n)! Did they not teach basic manners in your homeland?”

“I-I just, I wanted to give you this, I sewed it for you, it’s the dragon symbol with the eagle”

“Great, give it to the handmaidens, is that all?”

Suddenly she became hyper-aware of the pie of eyes around her, mostly men that had taken interest in the scene that unfolded in the gardens, she felt like a little girl scolded by her father, she bit her lower lip as her shoulders sunk in defeat, the glimpse in her eyes slowly disappearing like a light snuffed out.

“My apologies, I did not wish to interrupt you and the king, I hope you can forgive me, y-your grace”

“It is quite alright, my dear, for what it’s worth I found your creation a wonderful gift, do not pay attention to daemon he has never been good with gifts”

“If that means I have never been good with gifts that have no use then yes, I agree”

“I shall go, excuse me, your grace, husband”

She curtsied before she ran off, her chocolate-colored hair swinging left and right in her ponytail as her eyes looked down to hide the tears that she desperately held back, Daemon watched her and could sense the damage he had caused, sometimes he would catch himself staring at her with purity and interest, he had even smiled once when she struggled to find the right word in his language.

He should have stopped, he should have held his tongue when the evident quiver of her chin started to show when her eyes bounced in different directions as she wanted to gather her composure, but he didn’t, now Daemon stood as still as a grain of salt whilst she once again ran away from him covered in shame.

“She is your lady wife Daemon, must you be so hard on her?”

“A wife that was bestowed to me”

“She is also someone that was bestowed a spouse, yet she took it with grace and is grasping desperately to create the best out of the worst, as a man that prides himself on his intelligence your lady wife has surpassed you, at least in principle and empathy”

Daemon was stunned, as Viserys spoke in such kind words his words slashed through Daemon like the sharpest of knives, this was Daemon's second marriage, and it had become second nature to be rude and unattainable to his lady wife since the bronze bitch shared the same hatred as he did for her, now the cheerful lady with the deer like eyes and red puffy cheeks had been nothing but kind, a foreign pain in his chest started to make Daemon uneasy as she ran further and out of his line of sight.

“If I were you I would be very ashamed”

(Y/n) sat in front of the mirror as one of her handmaidens lit her candles and the other brushed (y/n)s hair to prepare her for bed, (y/n) stood as still as she could though her fingers intertwined with one another and twisted in odd ways.

“Could you leave me with Chiara, please? Thank you”

(Y/n) requested softly, the young handmaiden only curtsied before she walked out of (y/n)s chamber, whilst Chiara continued to brush her hair, they had grown into a bond that (y/n) felt comfort in, Chiara was sweet and honest, somewhat older, and had just given birth to her first child, she was the first handmaiden that she met when she got to the red keep.

“Do you love your lord husband?”

“I do, now”

“What do you mean?”

“I married him per my father's request, and he gave the biggest dowry, at first it was difficult, we had to figure out a way to communicate and after a while, I like to think that he grew to love me as much as I love him, though first, we respected one another, then love came gradually”

(Y/n) grew silent, her head hanging low before she bit her lip in defeat, she respected her lord husband? Did her lord husband respect her? After the incident on the morrow, it certainly didn’t feel like it.

(Y/n) had not noticed that Chiara had scrounged in front of her and placed her hands over (y/n)s, she only saw the tears that splashed over the handmaidens' skin.

“You won’t always feel like the outsider”

“I don’t think I can do this”

“You can, it is alright my dear”

One sob came after the other as (y/n)s body shook and Chiara lovingly wrapped her arms around the lady’s frame in such delicacy, it resembled a girl hugging her porcelain doll while she tried to not crack it, in its macabre nature you could identify a certain beauty, someone that had the strength to comfort a disheveled young lady as she navigated through womanhood and all its trials.

What had (y/n) nor Chiara had taken into account was that Prince Daemon had made his way to the half-cracked door, freezing in his sport once the whimpers of agony hit his ears, he peaked through the shadows only to be met with his lady wife letting tears stain her dress and hiccups shaking her hunching back as the handmaiden rubbed circles on her back.

“Prince Daemon is a fool for not acknowledging the precious stone that is you, may the gods bless him and open his eyes before he is taken from us”

Daemon had no reason to intervene, the poor lady was right, he was a fool, here she was, a beautiful and intelligent young royalty crying over his acts, he had always longed for home, for family, and now he kicked and toyed with it.

He should be the one comforting his lady wife, to gaze upon (y/n)s puffy and red face and do his best to calm her nerves, not to be the face of her pain, shamefully he scurried away without a word, mad at his reflection that stared back at him in such high horse, he had become everything he hated, a man that did not care about anyone but himself, stopping at nothing to prove he was right.

“Good morrow”

(Y/n) did not respond, she only raised her head and nodded at Daemon that had just entered the dining area, exhausted from crying the lady felt like a family of horses had run over her, getting barely a wink of sleep, evidently so by the veins under her eyes.

(Y/n)s silence was deafening to Daemon, however, he cleared his throat and took a sit next to his lady wife, waiting for a servant to pour him some wine.

“Orange juice? I believe we do not grow these over here”

“A gift from my mother, she said orange juice in the morning is a secret to a woman’s beauty”

“She must be the most astonishing lady back in your line”

“You met her, on our wedding feast, I believe you were too busy to pay attention, like always”

The last comment was barely above a whisper still sharp as a knife right on Daemon's abdomen, Daemon only turned his gaze at her, confused by her demeanor, it wasn’t uncalled for yet it took him by surprise, she always seemed to have the ability to hide her agony at least in public.

“Mayhaps we could go to her, I’m sure she will be more than happy if her daughter visited her”

“Not if my belly is flat, as much as she wanted me to be thin for most of my life she is now sending raven after raven to just check in with my monthly bleeds”

She informed him in a mumbling tone while her hand was rubbing circles on her temples, visibly annoyed over her mother's disregard for her well-being and hyper-focused on her womb.

Daemon was taken back by her comfortability to speak over her monthly visits, brushing it off easily though since they were husband and wife after all, those matters should concern him as well, the idea of a sweet little child running to (y/n)s arms brought him joy.

“It must be uneasy, being put in this position”

“Indeed and if I am being honest, my lord husband has not been making it any easier, with my empty womb nor his attitude”

“I understand you are cross with me”

“Can you blame me? You humiliated me”

Her tone switched from my king to a hiss, her eyes spewing fire as she stared back at him, it was the first time that she dared to show her true emotions, albeit Daemon could detect that it wasn’t just an act of anger but a sense of fear was laying behind those hues of hers.

He was correct, (y/n) feared for her future, the whispers of Daemon's visits to the street of silk, the adoration for his niece, his continuing ignorance over their wedlock, it all came crashing on her chest making it unable to breathe sometimes.

“I came to break my fast with you as a sign of goodwill, I want us to work on our relation-“

“Us? There is no us, you made sure of that my prince, you have crashed all my efforts and now you dare to speak of us”

“I cannot correct my past mistakes, I can only hope that you will allow me to work on our future, you did not deserve my coldness and for that, I sincerely apologize, I only wish for your good graces and for you to allow me to show you how I truly feel for you and our wedlock”

Silence, her eyes focused on his to scatter for one ounce of a lie, alas she was left with nothing, a sigh left her lips as she sunk to her chair defeated, why did the gods curse her with such a difficult match?

“I do not know if I can love you, I tried to desperately earn your affection for so long, I have grown tired of this”

“I know you have and I do not blame you, I beg you, my sweet (y/n), let me try”

His hand had found hers to hold, the warm flesh against hers grew goosebumps, a small beam of light found its way into her soul and a ghost of a smile appeared as (y/n) glimpsed upon their hands locked together, she gave him a subtle squeeze to see if this was a dream or reality.

“I suppose trying couldn’t hurt”

“Thank you, now you must eat, your mother might be right you have lost some weight”

“My efforts of getting accustomed to your foods have not been working”

“You do not have to, we can bring a cook from your homeland, my lady wife shall eat whatever her heart contents”

“There are some delicacies that I believe you would enjoy”

“I am not very picky with food so I will try anything you put in front of me”

Chatter was something (y/n) could easily do, however, even though Daemons spirits were high, (y/n) would steal glances of caution at him, was this another scheme? Or was he genuinely craving her presence and good graces?

“I was hoping you could come to meet Caraxes later”

“I do not know if that is the best idea”

“Nonsense, Caraxes is a part of me, therefore a part of you by law, soon our children will have their eggs on their cradle, if you are surrounded by dragons you need to get used to their presence”

Requests are open!

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llonelygoddess · 8 months

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Yandere House Stark Headcanons

A/N: I ended up not doing Bran and Rickon only because I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later and they were a little difficult to write for. If you'd like to see headcanons for them I can definitely make another post for them, just let me know.

Let's say you are a low born person looking for refuge in Winterfell after your village was sacked by Wildlings. You had hoped to find some tavern to hold up in or even a brothel, but unbeknownst to you the Stark family kept an eye on newcomers. When they received news of your arrival, they requested your presence. It was only to talk about the possibility of nearby Wildlings, but when YOU showed up beaten and scared for your life- how could they not offer their Stark hospitality?

This is where the yandere tendencies begin.

Ned Stark, as a yandere, is protective and definitely has a savior complex. He's an honorable and just man that can't help but bring home strays, so when he sees you it's like finding Jon all over again. A deep sense of responsibility comes over him and he knows in that moment that you are just as much his as any of his kids. From that day forward he assigns a room for you in the castle and a handmaiden to keep you company, not that you'll be needing it. The family of course is shocked at his sudden interest, but they all love to see him happy and nothing makes him more happy than seeing you taken care of.

Now Catelyn is initially worried that Ned has taken a romantic interest in you, but when she sees the way you both interact she understands the fatherly bond he is trying to create very similar to his own kids. It didn't take long for her to fall into her own yandere tendencies; checking in on you in the mornings, making prayer wheels even when you're not sick, helping in the kitchen to make sure your food was perfect ( and not poisoned). She takes her role as your surrogate mother very seriously,sometimes to the extent of watching you sleep or ordering guards to discreetly watch over you and report back. Her biggest worry is that you'll be taken away from them so she takes extra precautions to keep you safe.

Robb is head over heels for you instantly. Man is down bad. Much like his father, Robb has a savior complex and finds himself wanting to be YOUR savior always. He does this by training extra hard with Jon, keeping an eye on you at all times, and giving threatening looks to any man or woman who gets too close to you. He doesn’t mean to scare away any potential friends but he does mean to scare away potential lovers. He couldn’t bear to see you with anyone outside the family, and even then he has a sword up his butt about it.

On the other hand, Jon takes a while to warm up to you. He loves his family and is vicious to outsiders who could harm them. Eventually, seeing how you interact with everyone makes him a tad jealous. Not of you, but of his family and how easily they can approach you. I definitely see Jon as an overprotective/stalker yandere with strong jealous tendencies that make him beg for your approval. He finds himself wherever you are, lurking in the background, waiting for the right moment to catch you alone. Jon feels like himself around you and the more time you spend together the more addicted to your presence he becomes.

Theon is hands down THE worshiper of the group. It's a hot take for sure but as a yandere, I see Theon's insecurities and fears taking over, slightly similar to reek!Theon. He sees you as a deity, above the Lords and Ladies, even above the King/Queen themself. If it were up to him he'd be the one giving you your meals, running your baths, standing by your side as guard. He cherishes your very presence and hopes one day you'll see his never ending loyalty to you and only you.

Sansa is very quiet about her obsession, you almost couldn't tell. She's the perfect friend, always sitting next to you at meals, gossiping about the Lords and Lady's of court, and helping you stock your wardrobe. Whatever hobby you choose to pick up, she's always there to praise you in your efforts and guide you in whatever way she can. She especially loves teaching you how to embroider as it's her specialty. It was all but normal until you came upon her private journal filled with both your names in beautiful cursive surrounded by hearts. You begin to notice the closeness she silently demands, eyeing everyone else to stay away. You see the way she longingly watches you from afar when you choose to spend time with anyone else. And your dresses, that you both so carefully picked out, seem to have a little embroidered "SS" on the nape of your neck.

Arya sees you as her golden older sibling, the one who can do no wrong. She is constantly dragging you around Winterfell - riding horses and trying to shoot arrows (and failing lol). She finds comfort within you, the only person who doesn't expect anything of her except to be herself. And for that she will never leave your side. Most nights you'll find her trying to sneak into your room to share a bed, but whether she can get past the guards Ned and Catelyn have posted outside your door is another story.

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ithebookhoarder · 25 days

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Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.

In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol

Masterlist

Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband.

Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him.

It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing.

Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away.

It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal.

Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house).

If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.

Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together.

“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”

“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”

The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.

“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table.

You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”

“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”

It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement.

He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father.

It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved.

Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.

“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could.

Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead.

“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply.

It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes.

But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.

Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next.

“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”

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