#ensuring he cannot escape it on his own

[ouroborosorder]

I don't want to jump the gun because the official lyrics haven't been released, but just from what lyrics I CAN pick out, Bedman?'s theme is going to emotionally devastate the fuck out of me

[chiscaralight]

early mornings with you<3

the sun is just rising, but he's already hungry for you.

includes: nsfw! dr ratio, scaramouche, aventurine, childe, jing yuan, alhaitham (separately). morning sex, could be read as either cannon or modern au, use of all characters' real names, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), domestic themes, and super soft all round. cock warming, somnophilia, fingering,

a/n: super self indulgent 😔me when please.

veritas ratio.

the light spilling in from the crack in the blinds illuminates your face perfectly. veritas can only stare up at you longingly as his tongue rolls in and out of you. you look so beautiful, your eyes squeezed shut as your face contorted in pleasure. hands fisting in his hair as you grind your hips against his face. he would usually hold you down, dragging his lips off you to throw you a firm be patient. but he indulges you this time, humming into you as your thighs tighten around the sides of his head.

when he finally pulls away from you, his chin is soaked with your release. your body is relaxing as he crawls over you. his lips connect with yours in a strong kiss. your arms wrap securely around his neck, drawing him closure to ensure he cannot escape, but he's not going anywhere. not now, not ever.

kunikuzushi.

you could barely keep your eyes open. you couldn't have been awake for more than twenty, thirty minutes? but his hand has been nestled comfortably in your underwear for most of that short time. his bony fingers scissor your hole as you weakly gasp out his name. another moan slips from your lips as his teeth graze the skin of your neck. the swell of your ass is pushing against his hardening cock and he's hissing against your skin as he curls his fingers. you whimper out his name one last time before you cum.

he doesn't mind just staying like this. you're warm against his cool body and your breath is so calming to him. but with the way your hand is creeping behind you to brush your fingers against his erection, he reckons that he won't be laying down like this much longer.

kakavasha.

now, his mind is very good at conveying heavy feelings to him, but the pleasure he's feeling now is too good for it to just be a dream. he's cracking his eyes open, and he's only slightly taken aback. you're working your tongue so well around his tip, kitten licking up and down his length.

"you're just so full of surprises, aren't you?"

the look in your eyes is playful as you meet his violet ones. he lets out a small laugh and adjusts himself back into the pillow. he's letting you do what you want, fingers only softly scratching your scalp as his hands find your scalp. but as much as he knows every inch of your body, you know exactly what makes him tick. so you're not shocked when you feel thick strings of his cum hitting the back of your throat. but you are when he's pinning you back down onto the bed. his lips are trailing soft kisses from the valley between your breasts down to just above your heat. after all, he would have to return the favor.

ajax.

immediately he notices you are not in his arms, he's up and alert. he's already imagining the worst, did you leave? were you taken? his nerves are only calmed once he hits the entrance of the kitchen. there you are in only a shirt, his shirt as you stir the bowl of batter with all your strength. he can't help the smile that quickly finds his face. you gasp softly as his strong arms snake around your waist. you're quick to turn your head towards him to press a quick kiss, but he's not ready to let go just yet. once he pulls back, you're already chasing his lips once more.

breakfast long forgotten, he slowly rocks his hips into you. the cool of the smooth surface against your ass is no match for the heat the two of you are generating. his voice is low, but the words of praise he whispers ring loud in your ears. you tighten your arms arms around his neck and sigh. these were the slow mornings you longed for. the two of you in your own little world, nothing from the outside getting in.

jing yuan.

jing yuan is definitely one to savor things. he takes his time, analyzing the components and picking things apart. which is exactly why his lazy gaze is trained on your face as he languorously drags his cock between your soaked folds. your brows knit and the tired mewl you let out has his lips bending up into a coy smile. when you do finally open your eyes, his gold pupils are staring right at you, large arm holding your leg in place over his as you unconsciously buck up against him. his hand shifts to your face, his thumb running against your cheek as you lean into the warmth.

when he finally does push into you, the grumble he lets out is low in his chest. you feel it in every vein, every nerve as he rolls into you. your hand is cupping over his own and your eyes meet his once again in a loving gaze.

alhaitham.

alhaitham is slightly slouched down into the bed. back to his chest, your cunt is wrapped around his length. one of his holds the spine of the book you two picked together while the other hand turns the page. it's your turn to read aloud now. you're barely a sentence in before a single hard thrust has his name flying out of your mouth instead of the words on the page. his hearty laugh has you swatting at his arm. he gives you a half-hearted apology as he adjusts to keep the book in one hand while the other wraps securely around your waist. with no interruption from the man under you now, the words flow out like water.

the sound of your voice is like music to his ears. he doesn't even know when he starts hitting small thrusts up into you. against his better judgment, he's flinging the book to the side and hooking his arms under your knees. your head lolls back into the crook of his neck with a smile and his lips find your skin. and you let out the most gorgeous noises. he's sighing into the skin of your neck, wet kisses trailing along your orgasm washes over your body.

[shaisuki]

POSITIVE TEST RESULTS

ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

content warnings ─── pregnancy, babytrapping, noncon, dubious consent, stockholm syndrome, implied abuse, breeding kink, mentions of abortion, allusions to suicide. dead dove do not eat.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ a baby! the excitement and the incomprehensible joy they felt when they are expecting from you. a blessing or a curse? anyways, no matter what it is to keep you in place with them.

GOJO SATORU

the six eyes are everything. it can see the unknown and the forces that dwells that is invisible in the naked eye. satoru is grateful for the power he wield and it is the most useful in also keeping an eye on you. he knows it first before you can. the breath you take, the first step you make and the rhythm of your heartbeat. wether it was racing from the fear or the continuous pleasure he gives to you while he pumps his fingers into your tight hole.

there's nothing the six eyes he possess can't see and it's no different when he hears the first heartbeat of his child formed into your womb.

his child. he is having a child with you and satoru was over the moon when he found out.

long arms encased your soft form in his lap. your back in his chest while he hums a song. his lips ghosting on the expanse of your exposed shoulders. playfully nibbling on the skin when he hears the tiniest of whimper from you.

large palms drapes in your stomach. kneading the layered flesh like a cat making biscuits. satoru hums in delight. contented at this domestic bliss without too much fuss from you. you could be such a handful at times but it was fine to him. you were still adjusting to this life. a new environment for you and for him.

after numerous of escape attempts, he declares the staff and servants alike in the gojo household to be incompetent. it wouldn't happen if they were doing their job. he founds it useless and he took the matter in his own hand.

a penthouse to keep you. luxurious it was for one's taste. equipped with the latest security and glasses so thick that a bullet cannot dent it. money was no problem for it. gojo has an endless wealth to spend it especially for you. the safety and welfare of his wife always in the top of his priorities and it was worth every single penny of it. you cannot be bored taking the view of the city lights in the night time. overlooking the streets of tokyo.

pleasant it is but to you, beautiful the penthouse is but no matter how gilded it is, it is still a cage and you were the bird.

he breathes into your scent. it has been days since he touched you and satoru savors every second of it. your body a wonderland to him and he must be the only to explore it. satoru doesn't shy away from touching the parts that you didn't like. giving it the most of attention to prove it to you how much he loves it. particularly your stomach. lately, he's been obsessed with it. the talks of getting you pregnant and seeing you with child sparks the joy deep inside him.

satoru's patient. waiting for the result of the labor and love you both had poured in creating a life and he knows it is not that fast but he made sure you were properly bedded every chance he can get. now, all he had to do is wait. he may or may not been activating his technique to ensure you are with his child.

it happened in a blink of an eye when he first felt it. it was like an explosion of tiny molecules and forms into one. a dew rolling from a leaf and creating a ripple in calm waters. then he can hear the small “thump” of a heartbeat and you were rewarded by the sweetest of kiss and the next words he uttered were static in your ears.

“i'm not. it's my body. i'm the first one to know it.” you mutter. reasoning the most obvious truth and it was just a lie your ears want to hear.

“why would i lie to you, i can see and feel everything and that includes you, my wife.” he confidently counters to you. his voice never faltering in enthusiasm as he reveals the newfound joy to you.

your lashes are clumpy and the familiar stinging sensation makes way to your eyes. there is no way you will be carrying this man's child. you can't. you can't bear it. you can't carry this child. not with this man. you already feared the day it would come and now. you didn't realize the first drops of tears came cascading down you cheeks. placing your hand in your stomach and clutching the flesh like the fetus inside of you will magically disappear. this child wasn't even born yet and you're dreading you would become a mother to this one.

“don't cry, (y/n). i promised you didn't i? i will take care both of you.” he ever so sweetly convinced you to carry with this pregnancy and you felt manipulated again and then you were just a puppet.

“you've been a good wife to me. what's the difference of being a mother to our child.” he says, consoling you in his way that would only matter to him. you're carrying his child and as your husband and him being a father in the next months, you would be provided with the utmost care from him. starting on how he's going to worship this body of yours. pregnant and sensitive.

he's already kneeling in front of you. his blue eyes all of it's glory. staring at you with such adoration while he kisses the roundness of your stomach. pressing his cheek in the flesh. wanting to hear the faint thump of the heartbeat of his unborn child.

you tried to push him away. pressing your thighs together to avoid further ministrations from him but gojo effortlessly pried your thighs open. easily diving to get closer to you while his hands holds your wrist.

“satoru—ahhh” a moan accidentally slipping past your lips. his nose nudging the slit of your cunt before taking a lick from it. his hold on your wrist tighter as you tried to stop him.

“satoru, no—ahh” he chuckles. hearing you moan again and gojo takes pride of that. he ought to make you happy. furthermore increasing the success rate of you giving birth to a healthy son or maybe a daughter. frankly, he don't care. a child with you is better than none. a baby would eliminate all the problems he used to have with you and all the fuss will decrease.

such sweet cries for me, my adorable wife. he thought. your grip getting weaker the more his tongue laps up the slick coming out from your sweet cunt.

submit to him and let him do all the work. he did promise he will take care of you. for now, let him taste you. claim his reward for all the efforts.

you wouldn't deny him of his happiness, eh?

NANAMI KENTO

it's not everyday you can see a man with a built like nanami looms and searches from every rack of the pharmacy looking for a pregnancy test.

he's not getting his hopes up but rather ensuring that you are just fine and well though deep inside he's hoping that you are expecting. nanami had been dreaming of a domestic bliss lately. a child with you. hopefully one that looks and takes after you. he would be so happy.

nanami sighs, adjusting his glasses and shaking his thoughts of you being pregnant with his child. your welfare comes first before any others.

he's gone in the day before he comes home in the evening and the very first step he took in his home, he knew something was up.

the bathroom lights was on and there he sees your plush form kneeling in front of the toilet, spilling the contents of your stomach.

by the sound of his footsteps getting nearer he noticed how your body turned rigid.

“uhmmm.” flushing the toilet and standing up to turn on the faucet. letting the cold water run through the drain and wipe your mouth stained with vomit. trying to hide the evidence of you being sick.

“are you okay?” his stern voice cutting through the nervousness creeping up on you. large palms cupping your cheeks gently. you nod. “just a bit tired, actually. i'm going to bed.” you excused and with the furrows of your brows and that frown in your lips. nanami is sure what you're trying to hide.

he grabs a multiple of test kits. it's better to be sure before checking it out along with a few necessities for him to bring home.

when you see the pregnancy test kits being handed to you. you gave him a puzzled look. “i'm not. it's just the bug or something.” you reason to him. shielding yourself from the possibility of what he's implying.

“i know. better be sure than never, my love.” he managed to convince you and with that you took the test.

“why, ken? why would i be pregnant? i never missed taking the pills!” you asked him. sobs racking throughout your body as you look at the multiple pregnancy stick resting in the sink. all positive.

cruel and heartless and beyond him, nanami may or may not have tampered your pills. he never did intended to do this but lately you have been being stubborn than you are. his choices leading him to this unwanted pregnancy for you but to him he was happy. always wanted to be a good husband and a father to his child with you.

“accidents happen. we're in this together, okay?” it was never be fine with you. you can't be pregnant. “no—no!” your voice raising into a pitch. “i can't carry this child.” you could never. if kento was willing to shackle you with those cuffs, what's the difference it would be to your child. already chained to this man.

it took him a few minutes to fully calm you down. you're settled in the bed with him behind you. “i would be present throughout the duration of your pregnancy.” he assures you. bundling your hair in fist and putting it aside. kissing your nape and the gesture sending a shiver down your spine. “you are going to be a good mother.” peppering kisses to your shoulder blade and his other hand wanders until it reaches you belly. plump and squishy. in the next months it's going to be rounder and firmer. swollen with his child.

“i'm unfit to be a mother.” you whisper and nanami murmurs to your skin. “you're not.” pressing a tender kiss in the spot of your pulse in your neck. “i will harm this child.” you warned. “i will keep you confined to bed if needed then, but set aside those thoughts for me. i won't allow such things.” holding a firm hold to your jaw and then he whispers to you.

“allow me, my wife.” your body jolts in response. his index finger prodding your hole while rubbing your clit. “let me reward you for such wonderful news.” the gravel in his voice getting mellow. nanami won't allow you to harm yourself or the child you are carrying.

if it means of complete submission coming from you. nanami would not think twice of doing it over and over again. for now, he's happy you're gracing his home with a child. hopefully, it would take your mind off from the trivial things.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

it wasn't a surprise when toji received the news of you being pregnant. he did breed you well. mounting you every night like you were nothing but a fleshlight and his cumdump.

you were only given a raised brow and a cocky smirk coming from him. oh, how did he love the look on your face. scared and bothered of the reality of you being a mother to his child. toji wasn't that interested in becoming a father either but now it's a thrill. thinking of the ways he can control you without you resisting him.

“is that so?” he asks bored. disinterested even before breaking into a smirk. “now, you won't even think of opposing me.” patting your round belly in a degrading manner. once the spotlight for mockery and humiliation he used to hold you. “my brat spawning in to you. i did give you plenty of it.” he says amused.

a invisible leash wrapped around your neck for him to pull as he pleases. with the presence of the baby in your womb it looks like the future of yours is getting bleak with no hope for you along with the little one growing inside you.

it would curse you for being the mother and the father it will grow up with.

your body feels like lead. stuck in the mattress and every time you move, you sink deeper and maybe it was better until it swallows you whole. you wished it was that easy.

“spread your legs wider.”

you bite back a whimper. bile rising up in your throat as your body moves in autopilot. listening in what he orders to you. “geez, all those troubles i had to deal with and you're only this obedient when pregnant. maybe i'll just keep you pregnant all the time.” licking his lips before leaning closer to you. his breath in your ear.

there's a stinging sensation in your cunt while his cock slowly bullies inside you followed by a groan coming from him. his teeth nibbling in the shell of your ear and you bit your lip. silently taking him while he relishes on the feel of your tight hole spasming around his length.

“you're tight as ever. you don't mind me filling you up again, wife?” you remained silent. his power overwhelming you and toji chuckles. “then, don't mind me”

GETO SUGURU

there's been quite a commotion in his own little family and geto paid no mind to it. having a cult to run that requires his attention every now and then. seriously, stupid monkeys can't be trained without him and there's also those who can't keep their money running stable. quite trouble.

anyways he had to know what is causing those commotions that keeps everyone in high spirits. there he meet nanako and mimiko gushing over his chubby darling. seated in one of the chairs while the twins surrounds you. mimiko brushing your hair while the other twin, nanako holds your hand. soothing and assuring you of a situation he have yet to learn.

“geto-sama.” the twins greeted him. bowing their head a little before giggling a bit of the news they recently learned. “(y/n)-sama received news from the doctor earlier. they said she's expecting.” they broke to him and geto sees you in the corner of his eye uncomfortably shifts in your seat. “leave us.” he instructs the girls and they oblige. scurrying to leave the room in glee.

by the gods above, he worships you more. if only you knew that. it would be a weakness if he shows how much he adores you. he's in control. he's above you. you could never surpass that.

his lover on front of him shifts her gaze away from him and geto grasp your chin in his index and thumb finger. forcing you to meet his steely gaze in the purple abyss of his eyes. “i'm sorry.” you first speak up to him. biting your lower lip to hold a sob.

he can see you're scared. “what for?” he asks. searching for those gleaming eyes of yours, now misty. “for being pregnant.”

geto scoffs playfully at you. “there's nothing to be sorry. a wonderful news for us.” he assures you and you swallow the invisible lump in your throat. “is it?” you reply to him and he smiles. “it is.”

“i lay with you every night. made sure you are properly bedded by me.” no shame of that and there's a deep rumble of his laughter upon seeing your flustered expression. it's almost real how he looks so happy.

he is. when suguru decided to eradicate non-sorcerers he thought of how he's going to fill a country with sorcerers then you came to his life and he would be the creator of the new era. a bloodline. it would be his. yours and his. children that would carry his will and would be the part of a country where they are safe for him.

the news of you expecting. he can see the cogs being place to each of their respective places. already fulfilled.

his palms rough against your skin and yet it brings comfort to you. warmth. long gone he replaced the uneasiness in your heart with his and all the doubts you had of him. now, you're ready what he is about to make use of you. no questions. no qualms. all for him.

“you're mine.” he reminded you once again and you fall harder for him than the last time. “yours.” you whisper.

you were rewarded by a kiss. divinity touching you and warmth blooms all over you along with his hands wandering. to your round cheeks. squishing your chest and his palm in your round belly. imagining all the things he is already to do with your growing body with his child and geto is ecstatic.

his long and thick fingers finds the back of your obi and pulls the hem with no hesitation.

“mmm, suguru~” you mewl and geto smirks at how fast it takes for you to submit to him. “lay with me again tonight.” hands pinching to your supple flesh. fingers rubbing the spot between your legs and with a need. you grind your hips against them.

“as you wish.”

[ann1eee]

yandere! Gojo who would usually never follow someone at night, especially a woman. But there’s just something about you that draws him to you. He needs to know who you are and if you’re single

yandere! Gojo who really means no harm as he watches you walk absentmindedly from afar. He just wants to admire how beautiful you look today, and make sure you get home safe (that’s what he says to himself to feel better about this ridiculous situation)

yandere! Gojo who tries to build up the courage to approach you without feeling like a total creep, but finds himself too nervous to come closer to you out of the blue. He’s afraid he’ll mess up and you’ll ask him to back off. Or worse, you’ll be scared of him and he cannot have that happen

yandere! Gojo whose eyes narrow as he sees a hooded man watching you from a park bench, eventually starting to follow you.

yandere! Gojo who hesitates to step in, as of now he has no reason to get all defensive and end up spooking you too

yandere! Gojo who freezes as he sees the man grab your arm, a yelp escaping your lips and the fear in your eyes making him feel rage like never before. He stalks up to the man and effortlessly removes his hand from your arm, telling the guy to back off before it gets messy. Even he doesn’t realise how crazy eyed he gets when he speaks to the creep

yandere! Gojo who immediately turns his attention to you after the man scurries away; beautiful, concerned eyes scanning your arm for injury and asking you if you’re alright

yandere! Gojo who cant help but notice the subtle blush on your cheeks as you tell him you’re okay and look up at him. You thank him for stepping in with a beautiful smile and he can’t help but melt at how sweet your voice sounds. He smirks as he gets the perfect opportunity to finally get to talk to you

yandere! Gojo who introduces himself and turns his charm on and downright flirts with you in the middle of the sidewalk, lightly chuckling at how shy the breathtaking man makes you

yandere! Gojo who quickly asks you out on a date, and puts his number in your phone. He makes sure you call his number right there, and saves yours with a little red heart

yandere! Gojo who smiles innocently when you accept and bid farewell, promising to meet him the next day for your date. He asks you to text him when you get home, and you can’t help but think about how sweet and thoughtful he is

yandere! Gojo who waits until you’re a distance away, and follows you back to your home. He can’t let something bad happen to his new girlfriend can he? Besides, it’s for your own good that he’s following you back home and ensuring your safety ;)

[nixiefics]

Posses

Pairing: Robb Stark X Silent!Sister Reader

Warnings: Smut, posessive Robb, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), rough sex

Robb Stark winces as you carefully manipulate his leg, guiding his hip back into place with practiced hands. The sharp intake of breath that escapes him when the bone finally clicks into its rightful position tells you just how much pain he’s been enduring. You’ve been a Silent Sister in training for only a short time, but already you’ve seen more suffering than you ever imagined possible. Yet, this man, the Young Wolf, is different. His pain seems to ripple through you as if it were your own.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice strained but genuine. His blue eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you forget the vow of silence you took upon entering your order. You nod in acknowledgment, your fingers still lingering on his hip, feeling the heat of his body through the thin linen of his undergarment.

Days pass, and you tend to Robb’s injuries with unwavering diligence. His recovery is slow, but each day he grows stronger. You watch as he interacts with his men, see the respect and loyalty they have for him. He’s not just their King; he’s their friend, their brother. It’s a bond forged in the fires of battle and tempered by the fairness and justice he shows them.

Grey Wind, his direwolf, is never far from his side. The massive wolf seems to sense your importance to Robb, often watching you with intelligent, piercing eyes. When you approach, Grey Wind’s posture is relaxed, but the unspoken warning is clear: you are under his protection as well.

But it’s not just his men and his direwolf who are drawn to him. You feel an undeniable pull towards Robb Stark. His kindness, his honour, his unwavering dedication to his family and his cause – all of it captivates you. You’ve seen men broken by war, their spirits shattered as surely as their bodies, but Robb remains whole. More than whole, he seems to grow stronger with each passing day, his determination like a beacon in the dark.

One evening, as you’re tending to another soldier’s wounds, you feel his eyes on you. Robb watches from across the camp, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite name. Jealousy? The thought lingers as you stitch up the gash on the soldier’s arm, your hands steady despite the intensity of Robb’s gaze. Grey Wind is by his side, growling softly, mirroring Robb’s protective feelings.

Later, as you change the dressing on Robb’s hip, he grabs your wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “You spend too much time with the others,” he says, his voice low and edged with frustration. “I need you with me.”

You look up, startled by the intensity in his eyes. You try to pull away, but his hold tightens. “I don’t want you tending to them,” he says, his voice rough. “I want you by my side. Always.”

You nod, your heart pounding. His possessiveness is startling, but also oddly reassuring. It means he cares, that he values you more than you realized. From that moment on, you are always at his side, tending to his needs, ensuring his recovery. Grey Wind often lies nearby, his presence a constant reminder of Robb’s vigilance even when he cannot be with you.

The other men notice, their eyes following you with curiosity and a hint of envy. Robb’s attention and possessiveness are clear to all, and it changes the dynamic in the camp. No longer just a healer, you are now the woman who has captured the heart of the Young Wolf.

One day, you’re tending to a minor injury on a young soldier when Robb storms into the tent. His face is a mask of barely controlled anger. “Leave us,” he commands the soldier, who scrambles to his feet and exits hastily.

Robb strides over to you, his eyes blazing. “I told you, I don’t want you with them,” he growls, grabbing your hand and pulling you close. “You’re mine.”

You can feel the heat of his breath on your face, the intensity of his emotions crashing over you like a wave. His jealousy is raw, visceral, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never seen him like this, so consumed by his need for you. Grey Wind stands at his side, his eyes fixed on you, a silent enforcer of Robb’s wishes.

“I can’t stand seeing you with them,” he admits, his voice a harsh whisper. “It tears me apart. You’re the only one who understands me, who makes me feel whole. I need you, only you.”

You reach up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw. You nod, your silent promise to be by his side always. His grip on you softens, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. Grey Wind nudges your leg gently, as if to seal the promise.

In the weeks that follow, Robb’s possessiveness only grows. He keeps you close, his eyes always on you, ensuring that no one else can claim your attention. It’s a fierce, consuming need that drives him, a reflection of the depth of his feelings for you. Grey Wind is never far, his protective presence a constant reminder of the bond you share with Robb.

One night, as you sit by the fire, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “You’re mine,” he whispers into your ear, his voice a low growl. “No one else’s. Remember that.”

You nod, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and something darker, more primal. Robb Stark may be the Young Wolf, a fearsome leader and a brilliant strategist, but to you, he is simply Robb – the man who would fight the world to keep you by his side. And as you look into his eyes, you know that you would do the same for him.

One afternoon, you are out gathering herbs when a group of soldiers approaches you. They’re friendly, asking for your help with minor ailments. Before you can respond, Grey Wind appears from the trees, teeth bared, a low growl rumbling from his throat. The soldiers step back, fear evident in their eyes.

You pat his head gently in warning, but the direwolf’s eyes remain fixed on the men until they retreat. When you return to camp, Robb is waiting, his eyes dark with concern and jealousy.

“Were they bothering you?” he asks, his voice tight.

You shake your head, but Robb pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “I don’t want you going out alone anymore,” he says. “Grey Wind will accompany you, or I will.”

You nod, understanding the depth of his worry. His possessiveness is more than just jealousy; it’s a need to protect you, to keep you safe in a world that is anything but. You feel his love in every fierce look, every protective gesture, every time Grey Wind’s eyes follow you like a shadow.

As Robb’s recovery progresses, your bond deepens. He confides in you, shares his fears, his hopes, his dreams. You listen, your silence a balm to his troubled soul. And in those quiet moments, you realize that you’ve found something rare and precious in the midst of war.

Robb’s men see the change in their lord, the lightness in his step, the hope in his eyes. They see the way he looks at you, the way Grey Wind shadows your every move, and they understand. The Young Wolf has found his heart, and it beats for you.

One night, as you sit by the fire, Robb’s arms around you and Grey Wind at your feet, he whispers, “You’re mine, and I am yours. Always.”

You smile, knowing that no matter what the future holds, you will face it together. Robb Stark may be the Young Wolf, a fearsome leader and a brilliant strategist, but to you, he is simply Robb – the man who captured your heart with his honour, his kindness, and his unwavering love. And in his eyes, you see the same love reflected back at you, a bond that no war, no enemy, can ever break.

"You should rest, My King," you say softly. "Let us retire for the evening."

Your words leave him stunned for a moment. You have taken a vow of silence, yet here you are, speaking to him. The surprise in his eyes quickly melts into something deeper, a mixture of relief and gratitude. Robb nods, allowing you to help him up, your hands steadying him as he leans on you for support. Grey Wind shadows your every step, his amber eyes watching protectively.

As you guide Robb towards his tent, the camp around you starts to quiet down. The fires burn low, casting flickering shadows that dance in the night. You can feel the weight of Robb’s gaze on you, the unspoken questions simmering just beneath the surface.

Inside the tent, the atmosphere is warm and intimate. You help Robb ease down onto his furs, his eyes never leaving yours. He reaches for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Why now?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern. “Why break your vow of silence?”

You take a deep breath, kneeling beside him. “Because I need you to understand,” you begin, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “My silence was a shield, a way to distance myself from the pain and suffering I witnessed. But with you, it’s different. I can’t remain silent any longer. Not when my heart speaks so loudly.”

Robb’s eyes soften, his hand squeezing yours gently. “What are you saying?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying that I want to leave the Silent Sisters,” you declare, your resolve hardening. “But I will only do so if you share my commitment, if you promise that our bond is as strong as I believe it to be.”

Robb’s eyes widen, his surprise evident. He pulls you closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You would give up your vows for me?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.

You nod, your heart pounding. “Yes. But only if you promise to be with me, to share this life with me. I cannot leave my order for uncertainty. I need your commitment, Robb.”

Robb’s expression transforms into one of determination. “I promise,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “You have my word. I will stand by you, always. You are not just my healer, but my heart. I need you by my side.”

A sense of relief washes over you, and you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Grey Wind huffs and trots to settle just outside the entrance to the tent, a silent sentinel watching over you both. For the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of peace and belonging.

Robb cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’ve given me more than just my health,” he whispers. “You’ve given me hope, a future I didn’t dare dream of. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, to make you happy.”

Tears of relief and joy well in your eyes as you nod. “And I promise to stand by you, to support you in every way I can,” you vow, your voice filled with emotion.

Robb leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “We will face whatever comes together,” he murmurs. “From this day forward, we are bound by more than just duty. We are bound by love.”

Robb leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “We will face whatever comes together,” he murmurs. “From this day forward, we are bound by more than just duty. We are bound by love.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and certainty. You feel the heat of his breath, the nearness of his lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. The world around you fades away until there is only Robb—his eyes, his touch, his unwavering gaze that holds you captive.

Slowly, he tilts his head, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a touch. The sensation is electric, a spark that ignites something deep within you. His hands cup your face gently, his thumbs caressing your cheeks with a tenderness that belies the intensity of his emotions.

Then, without warning, the kiss deepens. His lips press against yours with a fervour that takes your breath away. It’s as if he’s pouring all his love, all his passion, into this single moment, and you respond in kind, matching his intensity. Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands as you pull him closer.

The kiss is searing, consuming. It feels like the world is burning around you, but all you can focus on is the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the way his body presses against yours with a desperate need. Every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Robb’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring the wild rhythm of your own. His lips leave yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, igniting a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasp, your head falling back as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through you. “Robb,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. He responds with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he brings his lips back to yours in another fevered kiss.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in him, in the heat of his kiss, the strength of his embrace. The world outside the tent, the war, the uncertainty of the future—all of it fades away until there is only this moment, this man, and the love that binds you together.

Robb’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring the wild rhythm of your own. His lips leave yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, igniting a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasp, your head falling back as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through you. “Robb,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. He responds with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he brings his lips back to yours in another fevered kiss.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in him, in the heat of his kiss, the strength of his embrace. The world outside the tent, the war, the uncertainty of the future—all of it fades away until there is only this moment, this man, and the love that binds you together.

You're vaguely aware of his fingers at the laces of your dress, tugging impatiently at them. Soon, it seems, he loses all patience and you gasp as he violently rips at the seams of your dress, pushing it over your shoulders and hips with a growl. "On the bed."

You crawl to the middle of the bed of furs, your heart pounding with anticipation as Robb stands before you with a hungry gaze. His possessive nature has always been clear, but now it's different - now, it's thrilling and exciting.

He sheds his own layers first, causing you swallow thickly as his chest is exposed; thick thighs built for fighting but that make you think they might be good for other pleasures as well. And then he is completely bare and you feel your core clench at the sight of his cock. Thicker than it was long, with veins running all along it; the thought of running your tongue over those veins makes your mouth water.

"Gods, you're glorious." you whisper, resisting the urge to chew at your nails.

Robb's calloused hands trace the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. His touch is confident and passionate, and you can't help but feel desired under his gaze. His lips find yours, and he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervour that leaves you breathless.

As he breaks the kiss, his mouth moves to your neck, nibbling and licking the sensitive skin. You moan softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues his assault on your senses. His hands slip under your shift, caressing your breasts with calloused hands. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch, wanting more.

Robb takes the hint, his fingers deftly removing your shift and freeing your body to his gaze. His mouth finds your nipples, and he sucks and nips at them, his stubble adding an extra layer of sensation. You gasp, your head falling back as he worships your body.

His hands trail down your body, fingers find your clit, and he begins to rub slow circles, making you moan and writhe beneath him. His other hand joins the first as well, his fingers sliding into your wet pussy. You are more than ready for him.

His head dips between your legs, and his tongue finds your clit. He licks and sucks, his fingers still inside you, curled to hit that perfect spot. You moan louder, your hips bucking as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you're about to cum, he stops. You look at him, confused, but he just smirks at you. Robb pulls himself to his knees, positioning himself between your legs. He rubs the head of his cock against your clit, making you moan loudly again. He teases you like this for a moment before slowly sliding inside you.

He fills you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

Robb's pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. You can feel yourself getting close again, and you urge him on. "Harder, Robb, harder," you gasp. He complies, his cock slamming into you, making the bed shake.

You feel yourself on the brink, and then you're cumming, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Robb keeps thrusting, drawing out your pleasure until he finally follows you over the edge, filling you up with his cum.

He collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy and ragged. You wrap your arms around him, feeling closer to him than ever before. Robb's possessiveness has always been a part of him, but now, it's something else - it's a sign of his love and devotion to you.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, you know that this is just the beginning of your journey together. And you can't wait to see where it takes you.

[tomatopers]

Childe who spends every waking moment tracking your killer, ignoring everything else to find the culprit, the one who had the audacity to think they could take you away from him and escape with their lives. He travels all across Teyvat, yet cannot bring himself to stop and see any of it though he knows you would've wanted to- hell, he can't even bring himself to sleep, instead passing out in alleys when he can no longer escape his own limits.

Childe who follows every clue, who ensures every dead end has no gaps, who finally, finally tracks down his target. They are stronger than he expected, but even without the rage boiling in his blood he could still beat them. He jumps into the fight without hesitation, fighting like a feral dog out for blood.

Childe who is sloppy with his attacks, not sloppy enough to miss but enough to leave openings for his opponent. He knows its on purpose. He wants to hurt. He fights and he fights, drawing it out, sustaining more and more injuries until, in a whirlwind of steel and anger, weapons meet their marks.

When the dust settles, your murderer lays dead on the ground. Childe stands, victorious, but the win brings him no joy. His opponent's dagger is embedded deep in his chest, and he had seen it coming. He couldn't bring himself to dodge it. This is a blatant betrayal towards you, towards your memory and your love. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "Don't be mad."

From his pocket, Childe holds a wooden fish; A trinket, the product of your first attempt at whittling. It doesn't look like a fish at all, but holding it is the closest he can get to holding you. He's so tired, and the ground looks so inviting. When he succumbs to the temptation, he can almost feel your warmth, as though you are lying beside him. "Did I do good, Angel? Are you... proud of me...?"

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Dispater, Lord of those Below

No Kings Beyond Death

A god of riches and horrors beneath the earth, protector and jailer of the departed souls, grim Dispater rules many realms with a stern hand and an iron will. Often cursed and seldom praised by mortals, it is this god's cosmic lot to keep order in the underworld, where the caverns of the mortal plane intersect with the labyrinths of the underdark and the shadowed halls of the dead.

While his worship overlaps with many other gods of death, few pray to Dispater as his heart is thought to be as cold and unmoving as stone, hardened by the grim work of keeping the domains to which psycopomps and other terminal forces deliver souls, ensuring that they neither have the chance to escape nor that they are picked off by fiends or other malign spirits.

Judges and other arbiters sometimes swear by him, especially when handling matters of life and death, as do miners, bankers, and others who work in precious metals or stones, as Dispater has a connection to caverns and other buried places. His clergy collects tribute in the form of those soft, perishable things that cannot be found below the earth: grain and livestock, flowers and wine. Their sacrifices of these things are said to pass on to the dead themselves, after their lord has taken his due tithe.

Adventure Hooks:

A monstrous bat haunts the countryside, endlessly harrying a graverobber who pilfered from a cemetery consecrated in Dispater's name. The exhausted scoundrel just so happens to have taken refuge in the same country inn as the party, passing himself off as a peddler who was shaken down by bandits. When the bat attacks that night (as he knows it will) he hopes to use the chaos to shift some of his plunder into the heroes' packs, diverting the creature and the divine wrath it represents.

Rumour is, if you find a trail of archaic coins scattered along the road, following it will lead you to one of the mysterious grey merchants, traders from the underworld who deal in memories and mementos cast off by the dead. Woe to anyone who attempts to harry or cheat the merchant though, as they travel under the protection of the lord below.

Shortly after a resurrection of a partymember (that may or may not have gone wrong), the heroes are approached by a dour devil in clerk's garb who insists that they need to follow her into the underworld to help clear up some post-mortality paperwork, or else their friend's soul might be held in litigation for a literal eternity. "Clearing up" in this case involves helping to clear out a field office somewhere in the shadowfell overtaken by the unquiet dead, fending off hostile spirits while the devil and the deceased do a lightninground of signatures on the relevant forms.

Behind the scenes: Hades has fascinated me since I started learning a mythology, and that fascination has only grown as I've traced the idea of him through history and popculture.

Like all the other Greek gods, Hades gets a roman makeover in Pluto; god of earth, the underworld, and wealth. One of his titles "Dis Pater" literally means " Father of Riches", as the earth contains both mineral wealth and the wealth of good harvests.

Because of his association with the underworld Pluto/Dis Pater starts to get adapted into emerging Christian Mythology as the devil, as his realm of of Tartarus (and its punishments reserved for the most wicked) likewise becomes Hell (which exists to torture anyone who sins and doesn't believe).

Fast forward about a millennia and a half and you have the creators of d&d making all the different names for the devil into a rogue's gallery of different fiends. With Dispater's connection to greek mythology completely forgotten he gets sectioned off as the extra schemey member of hell's boyband, at once brilliantly adept at making plans and driven mad with his own paranoia. While this makes him a little more interesting than some of the other devils, it just wasn't enough for me in the end, so a revamp had to ensue.

I wanted to take things full circle and use Dispater's name to bring my own Hades analog into my game's mythology, a god not of death but specifically the underworld, fully drawing on the connotations of both afterlife and underground. Playing with motifs of kingship and a "death and taxes" sort of legalism also makes for unique themes when it comes to the subjectmatter of mortality: Dispater as death is owed tribute by natural and divine law, but that relationship also grants protections to the tributary. Imagine a paladin of Dispater saving someone's life from unlawful execution because they are owed a righteous death.

Thanks as always to @5ecardaday for the monster stats

Artsource

[aoioozora]

Platonically sharing a bed with the Ghosts

One-bed scenario hcs with the Ghosts, and you get to see their sleeping habits. Enjoy!

Logan Walker:

A little awkward about sharing the bed, but not against it.

Even though he's shared beds with Hesh when he was younger, he hasn't done it in a long time. And with someone of the opposite sex? It's a little awkward.

But he's not awkward in his sleep. He'd probably sleep in a starfish position, accidentally kick your back or put his leg on top of you

And maybe if he's having a nightmare, he might cuddle you for some comfort.

David 'Hesh' Walker:

Also awkward about sharing the bed but tries to hide it and plays it cool, telling himself, "it's just gonna be one night."

But he cannot keep his cool once you hit the bed next to him.

He loves cuddling but since both of you are just coworkers, he's fighting the urge so hard because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. He ends up not getting a wink of sleep for a couple hours

But when he does sleep, he sleeps like he's a dead body in a coffin, fingers intertwined and all, straight and tall like a soldier.

Sleeptalks sometimes, but it's just incoherent mumbling.

Elias 'Scarecrow' Walker:

He gets in bed, says "good night" and proceeds to not acknowledge you unless necessary. He is visibly embarrassed and annoyed by this arrangement, but doesn't complain about it.

He sleeps in a rather loose fetal position, tosses and turns around a lot and it keeps you awake for a while until he finally stops and falls into a deep sleep.

Tends to wedge his hand in between his knees when asleep.

Although he can sleep anywhere, he prefers a completely dark room with minimal light

If there's too much light, on goes the eye mask.

Thomas Merrick:

It's written all over his face. He's AWKWARD. But he doesn't say anything so as to not make you uncomfortable. And you don't say anything to him either.

He even offers to sleep on the floor to escape this ordeal, but you refuse and have him sleep on the bed, since it was big enough for two and you didn't want him to be uncomfortable.

He obliges and gets in bed, but makes sure he keeps plenty of space between you and him (he's at the risk of falling off the bed)

And when you tell him to chill out, he grumbles, "I'm... chill." The hip and groovy slang doesn't roll out of his Millennial tongue very well.

He eventually falls asleep facing away from you, hogging the blanket and burying himself in it like he is a worm in a chrysalis.

Big, strong guy sometimes feels like he needs some protection from the world too.

Keegan Russ:

His face is blank. He does feel awkward about it but neither his face, his voice, nor his body language betray any of what he feels.

He sets up a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed. "Neither of us are crossing this line, alright?" he says, and you nod, not planning on doing so anyway.

Both of you go to sleep. He sleeps in a tight fetal position and hugs the pillow he's sleeping on.

Another position he sleeps in is on his stomach with his knee hoisted up. He won't care if it's bad for the spine, it's comfy.

Give him a few hours and he's already disregarded his own rule, and has pushed away the pillow wall to simply press his head against your back, just to feel a little less lonely.

Kick:

Not awkward AT ALL. He actually digs this arrangement but is trying not to show it. But the amused smirk on his face blows his cover.

He sleeps very comfortably and if he's close enough friends with you and ensures you don't mind his touch, he would actually shamelessly cuddle you.

And you find his cuddling comfortable.

Sometimes sleeps like a Victorian child dying of a disease, having his hand on his head and all that

By the time it's morning, he's on the floor

Alex 'Ajax' Johnson:

Ajax genuinely doesn't care. Only one bed? He'll just shrug and go along with it. He's done this countless times.

In a way, him not caring makes you feel a little less awkward about it.

He keeps his distance from you and doesn't trouble you at all

He's an absolute madman to sleep without a blanket, and it's not just because he's used to it. It's a preference. He doesn't feel very cold.

Light sleeper. But he snores a bit.

Not a cuddler, but he wouldn't mind if you cuddled with him to keep warm.

Riley:

No awkwardness, no shame, only a little baby happy to sleep on the bed with you.

BED HOGGER!

Normally a light sleeper since he's a dog, but in complete safety, he sleeps like the dead, deep enough to dream

On hot days, he likes to lean against the headrest and sleep on his back to support his legs.

On cold days, he sleeps in a doughnut formation with his nose tucked under his tail.

He's a warm boy, loves to cuddle. Even when he needs his space, he'll make sure he keeps either his tail or his paw touching you.

He's an early riser and to wake you up, he'll either lick, paw, or nudge your face with his cold nose.

BONUS - Gabriel Rorke:

Like Ajax, he doesn't care. Once he hits the bed, he's conked out.

He has one of his legs hanging out of the bed, a nightmarish thing for a kid who might see this. You tell him jokingly, "The monster under the bed will grab your leg and drag you underneath." And he just says, "I am the monster under the bed," to assert dominance to the imaginary beasts.

Light sleeper, and sleeps on his back, arms crossed like he has a meeting to attend in 30 minutes.

He sometimes has his eyes half-open, which is kinda freaky

And being a light sleeper, you don't know whether he's asleep or awake and trolling you.

Read this next! Romantically sharing a bed

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (22) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: you and coriolanus adjust.

word count: 1,733

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: fluff, mention of morning sickness, pet name (petal), not proofread

The benefit of being pregnant was that Coryo and Coriolanus have seemed to become the best of friends. The drawback was that they became united in their overprotective tendencies. Coryo would insist that you stay in bed longer, and Coriolanus would sit on your chest to make sure you didn’t try to sneak away. Or Coryo would deny invitations to balls because of your morning sickness, and Coriolanus would attack the skirts of your gown to make sure it was in no occasion to be worn when you tried to convince your husband that you were well enough to be in attendance. It would have been infuriating if it wasn’t also so damned sweet. At least Coryo didn’t become the sort of husband who would keep you from your work. Probably because you were seated beside him and he could ensure that you weren’t doing anything that could potentially harmed yourself or the baby. 

You leaned your head against Coryo’s arms as he shuffled around some papers on the desk. He looked down at you, his brows pinching together. 

“Do you need to rest?” he asked. “Should I get the physician?”

You turned your head to press a kiss to his bicep. “Worry wart.”

“Forgive me if I’m concerned when my wife is entering the most dangerous part of her life—carrying another’s life,” Coryo said. He reached up, his cold hand resting on your warm face. His thumb stroked over the swell of your cheek. “I’m not going to take any chances when it comes to your health.”

There it was again. You knew of Coryo’s anxieties about your eventual pregnancy, but with everything happening so quickly, it was easy to be frustrated with his behaviors. With the exception of his adoration for you, Coryo kept his feelings so close to his chest. Even when it was obvious why he was being so overprotective, you sometimes forgot that part of him was still the broken boy who lost his mother. You took a breath, trying to steady your own overwhelming emotions.

“And I will tell you if I’m over-exerting myself. I may have never been with child before, but I know myself well enough to know when I’m pushing too far.”

A sigh escaped Coryo’s lips. “I just worry. I cannot lose you. In fact, I demand that I be the one to go first.”

You giggled. “I don’t think you get to demand things like that.”

“I am King. The only person who can tell me no is you, so, please, let me be the one to go first.”

You kissed his bicep again. “Very well. But you better live a long, long life with me before you go.”

“I wouldn’t dare sacrifice a single minute of a long life with you.”

“Would you sacrifice a minute to walk in the gardens with me?”

Coryo smiled and nodded. He stood first then held a hand out to you so he could aid you. Once you were standing, your hand slid to the crook of his arm and Coryo led you out of the office. He gave a curt nod to the Peacekeeper who was stationed outside the door and the two of you continued out of the palace and to the gardens.

The moment the sun hit your face, you couldn’t hold back your smile any longer. You had been holed up in the palace for the better part of the week, both because of Coryo and because of the morning sickness. It was nice to finally been the sun on your skin, the breeze in your hair. Maybe pregnancy would be easier if you spend the entirety of it outdoors. You looked up at your husband. Even the weight on his shoulders seemed to be lifted once he was out of the palace. 

You took a seat on a bench, and Coryo sat beside you. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s nice to be out here,” you said. 

“It is. We should come out more often,” Coryo agreed. He caressed your face, a soft smile curving across his face. You leaned in, stole a kiss. “I am sorry if I have been overbearing.”

“It’s sweet. I am sure most husbands would only be concerned if the child I had was a boy,” you said. 

“Boy, girl, I don’t care. As long as you and our child is healthy, I will be happy.”

Leaning your head against Coryo’s shoulder, you said, “I probably will take a step back from our public engagements, though. It was exhausting just coming down here, and we haven’t even left the estate.”

Coryo barked out a laugh. “Well, if I knew it would be that easy to get my way, I would’ve taken you to the gardens sooner.”

“Oh hush!” But still, you giggled. “One a month, I think, will suffice. Fewer than that when I am further along, of course, and if the physician advises otherwise.”

“Ah, so I could have also been bribing the physician?” Coryo teases. 

You gave his chest a light smack. “Stop it, I’m being serious here.”

“I know, and I greatly appreciate that.”

“Now, what do you say we shirk our duties and spend the rest of the day in bed?”

Coryo grinned. “I thought you would never ask.”

You sat in the library, legs curled up under you, a book on your lap. Coriolanus sat at your feet, blinking curiously at you. You hadn’t intended for Coriolanus to have joined you, but despite you and Coryo coming to an agreement about your health, Coriolanus seemed to be certain that one wrong move would mean your end. 

“Well, this is a very non-traditional royal portrait,” Coryo said, stepping into the library and up to the painter. He watched as the artist. took delicate care in painting you. 

“This isn’t for my royal portrait,” you dismissed as you turned a page in your book. “We had that done weeks ago. Some finishing touches still need to be done before it can be unveiled, of course. But this is a personal portrait I’ve commissioned.”

Coryo looked over at you. His brow raised. You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure you out. “Is that so? What do you need a personal portrait for?”

“Well, there will soon come a time when I am too tired and too pregnant to be in the office with you. I thought a portrait hung over the desk would serve as a good reminder of who you must consider in ever decision you make.”

The painter’s brush stilled. You watched as he slowly looked back at the King, undoubtedly waiting for a typical man’s rage—to yell at you for being so audacious, to destroy the painting, and to ensure that the painter never would be able to make art again. But your Coryo only laughed. 

“As if I could ever forget you, petal. I was planning to bring our work into the bedroom—”

“There is nothing less attractive you could say than that.”

The color continued to drain from the painter’s face. Poor fellow. Perhaps you should tell him to take a break while you speak with your husband. 

“Perhaps you are right.”

“No, I am. If you bring work into our bed, you will be swiftly removed to the Queen’s Chambers.”

Coryo smiled still. “Very well. Then I should thank you for being so courteous to not wholly deprive me of your presence.”

You flipped another page in the book. “I’m think of having another painting commissioned in a few months.”

The painter looked to you, his demeanor finally relaxing. “It would be an honor to paint you again, Your Majesty,” he said. 

“Have you done any maternity portraits?” you asked. “I know it is as non-traditional as this portrait, of course, but I thought it would be another nice present for my husband.”

The painter glanced back at the King standing over his shoulder. “I am certain His Majesty will be pleased with anything you present him. Your Majesty.”

“Something in the gardens, I think. Coryo has these beautiful rose bushes. We should incorporate them somehow.”

“I love when you pretend I’m not here, petal,” Coryo said. He patted the painter’s shoulder. “If you continue to capture my wife’s beauty as well as you have been, you will be the official royal portraitists.”

You watched as the painter flushed. “It would be a tremendous honor to be bestowed such a title,” he said. 

Coryo nodded at the painter then stepped around the easel. He walked over to you, bent down, and kissed you softly. “How much longer will this take?”

“Only an hour or so until we lose the sunlight,” you said. “Why? Are you becoming anxious without me by your side?”

Coryo smiled, his pretty blue eyes twinkling. “You know I always want you by my side.” He kissed you again. “I shall return in an hour then.”

“I eagerly await your return.”

He turned to Coriolanus and pointed a finger at the furry baby. “And I expect you to alert me if this ends even a second sooner.”

Coriolanus meowed in return. 

As Coryo left the library, you found the painter staring at you. You expected him to resume painting, but he continued to stare. “Is there something the matter?” you asked. 

“I have painted many couples in my time,” he said, “and I have never seen a husband as devoted as His Majesty. If it would please Your Majesty, I would love to come another day and paint a portrait of the two of you together.”

You smiled. “To add to our gallery of non-traditional portraits?”

“Of course,” he said. “Anything that the two of you wish for.”

Oh, you liked that. You grinned ear-to-ear as you asked, “And if I wished for another portrait of myself, done in the style of the goddess of old?”

He flushed. “Anything you wish, Your Majesty.”

“You are going to be quite handsomely paid by the time we are done with you.”

You turned back to your book, still smiling as you considered the various portraits you were going to gift your Coryo. He could give you a library, yes, but you were going to give him a gallery. If he didn’t appreciate art in all its glory before, he would soon enough. 

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Emperor! x Female! Reader #3:

Continuation of the previous part.

-"I like to see those wounds, because I know that I was the one who caused them to you."- In the event that the yandere emperor is a sadist, and there is a chance that you disobey him or catches you in an escape attempt, of course the emperor himself would punish you and then heal your wounds and perhaps caress them in a moment, kiss or something like that.

-"What's wrong? Do your wounds hurt? Well I'm glad and I hope this reminds you of what will happen if you dare to run away."- It would be the same as the previous case. The emperor would punish you physically and then heal you himself.

-"I wait for you tonight / Wait for me here tonight."- If we see possible historical records of the emperors and their harems, there were what were "night services in bed" for both the concubines and consorts, as well as for the empress (legal wife of the emperor) in which the emperor could have fun with them or just sleep. You would not be the exception; so the yandere emperor would summon you to his room, he would take you by force, or he himself would go to your room and close the doors behind him.

-"Take off your clothes, I want to see that beautiful body. Do it for me; I want to see and touch every area of ​​your body, as well as lick every fold of your skin."- During night services in bed, he will like to have you at his complete mercy. There is no further explanation for this.

-"I will allow your parents to visit you, only if you behave well to me."- In the past, they rarely let the empress or concubines be visited in the palace by their relatives. The yandere emperor would use this to his advantage, as well as keeping a close eye on every visitor you receive.

-"There's only one thing I'd like you to do, and that is have our children."- Many emperors used their empress or concubines to expand the imperial family. There were emperors who expressed love for their empress and the occasional consort or concubine, and children were born from these unions, but then there were women from the harem who were simply used to have babies. Here the emperor loves you madly, and obviously he will want you to get pregnant probably not once, but several times perhaps.

-"Anyone who dares to attack her will be severely punished publicly as a warning not to mess with what I love."- The yandere emperor obviously won't let even his own empress (if you're just a consort or concubine) or any of his other imperial women touch you or insult you. The thing is worse if the person who trates you badly is a guard or servant, but whoever it is, the emperor could punish him with: slaps, whippings, forced labor, capital punishment, capital punishment to his family or clan of origin, etc.

-"How dare you slap my beloved? Who do you think you are?."- Well, that's what the yandere emperor would say when he sees how the imperial women or some other servant hurt you.

-"I want to surrender to your majesty, but only if it ensures the well-being, safety and happiness of my children. You must also promise not to harm my babies or the children of the other women in the imperial harem."- If you have seen a few historical records, as well as some historical palace dramas (especially those that come from China), you will know that there have always been fights and palace intrigues between the harem women and their children to reach the top; for reasons such as favor, family pressure, safety and well-being of their children, etc.; leading to things like: accidents, poisonings, attempted murders, attempted abortions, and more terrible things.

Well, although I cannot manipulate the thoughts of the dear reader, I imagine that if you live in an environment of this style, in which you have children who could be in danger, you will want to take advantage of the loving obsession that the yandere emperor has with you to protect your children and ensure them a happy future, right?

10. -"Try to kill me? You are very naive."- There isn't much explanation. You tried to kill the yandere emperor and he stopped you in time, teaching you a lesson in the process.

11. -"If you have a child with another man, I will have no shame in sending the brat away and killing the idiot."- Just another stern warning.

12. -"Like, what am I doing here? Did I scare you? I think I did because those eyes of yours looking at me with fear… I love it."- It is likely that the yandere emperor is capable of sneaking into your room at night while you sleep, and that on one of those nights you woke up when you felt him lay down next to you and gave you a tremendous scare.

-The End.

[widowmura]

My speedpaint contribution to #mermay with some Bloodweave. Featuring merman Gale and Deep Sea Leviathan Astarion. Each of these pics took under or just over an hour to do. I'll probably redesign / redraw Deep Sea Leviathan at a later stage. Some lore to go along with them: When Gale boards the small vessel barely enough to fit a crew of six, Mystra reassures him that mermaids are not to be feared. He's read of them of course. Alluring, feminine; specimens of beauty and wonder. But dangerous. Enough that should you see the shimmer of their scales in the water, you should avert your eyes immediately and to not let them fool you into thinking their scales are in fact precious gems, just barely out of reach. That when their siren song calls, you ensure your ears are stuffed with enough cotton and you keep away from the drink to retain your sanity.

So when he finds himself and their glorified canoe out in the stretch of the deep sea, fading into an endless nothingness, his mind can't help but wander. What else is hiding in the depths? Mystra doesn't let him find out. When something unfathomably large and dark stirs a wake large enough to rock their ship, the woman shoves him overboard. It turns out the fairytales were exactly that; tales, but the reality is so much worse.

Cast into the depths as a sacrifice for safe passage, Gale cannot help but flounder. He'd never learned to swim despite living in a place called Waterdeep. The irony isn't lost on him as he sinks, down and down like a stone, straining into an eternity of blue as his lungs fill with water and dread. But he isn't empty-handed. The artefact he'd stolen from that gods forsaken cursed fortress was still with him, and with no other choice except to reach for desperation, he plunges it within his chest, hoping, praying for a lifeline.

Aka mermaids are propaganda tales used by sailors. Mermaids are in fact hideously large monstrous creatures, leviathans in their own right that trade safe voyage for flesh whose existence is kept quiet. Gale ends up using the orb and manages to somehow turn himself into a false merman to escape the pursuit of such a creature, who instead of choosing to consume him, keeps him as an oddity of his own. The fact they both glow amuses the monster. Astarion lures ships and takes sacrifices to his master, The Great Old One of the Depths - Cazador. Meeting Gale, which at first turns out to just be a bigger fish tormenting a smaller fish story turns into something more when Gale helps to undo the pact keeping Astarion bound to the Old God. Astarion's design is based off a deep sea angler fish for the luring / lives in the dark aspect and a Dunkleosteus which is a prehistoric fish with boney plating for making him seem ancient / old in appearance.

[ailithnight]

So! Giving my reblogs to this amazing art by @providencehq their own post so I can keep adding on to this fic at my own leisure.

Please don't ask to be tagged. I'm relegated to mobile and simply cannot keep up with a taglist. All additions will be going in the reblogs on this post, though. So feel free to come back here periodically to see if I've added more.

I'm currently up to 3 chunks with 1 more in planning.

So, without further ado:

Caught and Content

Daniel James Fenton had died at 14.

And every day since then he has counted as a blessing. Especially the good ones, but even the bad ones. The terrible ones. The days so horrid that Danny wouldn’t wish them on the worst beings in the universe. Danny treasured them still. Because every breath, every too slow heart beat, even the ones that pulsed with terror and exhaustion and agony, every one was a miracle. A moment of life that Daniel James Fenton wasn’t meant to have any more.

Borrowed time.

That’s what it was.

Danny had been living on borrowed time since he was 14. And he had long since made peace with the fact that his borrowed time would some day run out.

He’s 20 now. 6 whole years he wasn’t meant to live but did anyway.

A few more months and Danny would be 21, old enough to buy his first alcoholic drink. But even if he lived that long now, he wouldn’t get the chance. The GIW would ensure that. Tuck had celebrated his 21st a couple months ago, and Sam a few months before him. Danny would never get to celebrate his with them.

But that was okay. As said, Danny had long since made peace with the uncertain nature of his borrowed time. He didn’t need to go out to a bar with his friends and celebrate that he had survived 21 whole years. It would have been a lie anyway.

Daniel James Fenton had died when he was 14.

He was in the Watchtower now. Power suppression cuffs and collar making his already battered body feel even more weak and achy. Batman was staring at him. Superman and Wonder Woman seemed to be telling him things. Or asking. Interrogating. Danny paid them no mind. No answer he’d given them before seemed to satisfy. And he already knew what would come next.

These were government sanctioned heros. They were bound to the law. And the law said Danny must be turned over to the GIW. And since Danny had already escaped them and his parents once, he doubted they’d be keen to lock him up again. Research be damned, Phantom was too dangerous to be left alive. Or whatever facsimile of alive Danny existed in right now. Daniel James Fenton had died when he was 14.

So Danny ignored the government sanctioned superheros. He didn’t let his mind wander to tomorrows he’d never have. He had made peace with his death. So now he took every moment left of his breathing beating blessing to turn his gaze out the large Watchtower window.

Nothing else mattered as Danny beheld, breathed in, drowned in the last he’d ever see of the infinite beauty of the cosmos. He let himself relax, smile, and relish in the miracle of being here, of being allowed to see it one last time. And up so close, too.

And when the heros grew tired of Danny’s distraction. When they led him to a new room without any windows to peer out of. Danny stayed relaxed. Stayed smiling. He closed his eyes and waited for his borrowed time to run out. Even as Batman stared and Superman and Wonder Woman interrogated and the power suppression devices drained him of excess energy and he’s pretty sure the GIW were on their way to arrange his execution; he was contented.

Danny was not afraid. He was happy. At peace. Why would he be scared? After all, Daniel James Fenton had died at 14. Every moment since has been a blessing he has been grateful to have.

Because

Daniel James Fenton had died at 14.

[impactedfates]

hehhaharhar i so totally not deprived of father figure! genshin men with kidnapped child reader? pls pls 💓💓💓any man is fine but perferably the tall ones ☝

★ A/N: Yeah sure you aren't...anyways, yep I got you covered with this request :))

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial

★ Format: HeadCannons (Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Childe, Kaveh)

☆ Warnings: Mentions and hints of kidnapping // Mentions of death (In Diluc and Childes) // Spoilers for the Liyue Archon quest if you have not done it yet // Mentions of going to the hospital (Kavehs)

★ Extra: Reader is adopted in Zhonglis one // Reader is shorter then most characters (They're about 6-7 age wise) // Reader has no vision // Reader is ofc NOT traveler

For whatever reason I can see it being a Fatui that kidnapped you. Perhaps to get payback for the massacre Diluc caused back in Snenznaya. Whatever the reason, once Diluc finds out you’re gone and it was because of the Fatui? Oh he’s more then pissed.

If they wanted to upset him, they succeeded. Perhaps too successfully as when he finally finds you, most of the Fatui that’s been there to ensure you don’t escape has been soaking in a pool of their own blood. He of course won’t hurt anyone violently if you’re in the room, but he will knock the other people in there out. He’ll pick you up and hide your face in his chest as he calmly walks out.

When you are back home, he’ll take a few days off work to ensure you’re okay after what happened, and maybe if it comes to it he may actually ask some of the Knights of Favonius for help as well.

Honestly whether or not he actually hurt anyone is up to you, however I do think that when it comes to family, he isn't that hesitant to be a bit more violent then usual.

Getting adopted and having your father being the ex-archon of Liyue had it's ups and downs, especially as you witnessed your father continuously forget his wallet, however never have you thought you'd get kidnapped.

You weren't sure why though, Zhongli had kept his identity a secret and the only ones knowing were other Archons and the traveler as far as you knew plus Zhongli in his "mortal" form isn't that much of an important figure to others, nor is he famous. Yet here you were, treasure hoarders surrounding you.

Meanwhile, Zhongli was panicking wondering where you went. One second you were close behind him, the next you were gone. So he quickly called upon some of the adeptus to search for you and thankfully, you also had the privilege to call upon Xiaos name and he'll come right to your side. Whatever happened to the treasure hoarders?

You're not sure, Xiao simply teleported you away and right into your fathers arms as he held you tight before disappearing into the green mist once again. Zhongli checks all over you to ensure you aren't hurt. After that day, he's sure to always have an eye on you and when he cannot. An adeptus will look out for you from afar.

Being a Knight, and a captain in fact. Kaeya definitely encountered people wanting to push his cool persona over the edge. It's part of the reason why he's a bit hesitant on growing closer to certain loved ones.

He's afraid of loosing them, so when he lost you. He did not take it well, despite his cool demeanour when he ordered some knights to go search for you, people like Jean and his brother Diluc were quick to see he was in a state of panic, Jean even offered to take over the search so Kaeya could relax but he didn't want too. He had to find you safe and sound, even if that meant he had to get hurt.

When you are finally found, he's quick to take whoever's responsible away and have Jean deal with them properly as he himself brings you to Barbara who checks for injuries you may have sustained. He's by your side at all times and may even be hesitant to leave your side.

Even though Jean likely did give him some time off to spend time with you and for him to cool down after what happened, he's still unwilling to leave you alone, even with another babysitter. He does reluctantly agree when his older brother offers to take care of you. He knows Diluc is strong and will be able to protect you. (Better than Diluc protecting him anyways)

Whoever kidnapped you must have a death wish or something...

Of course it's easy to see why someone were to kidnap you. I mean, being the kid of not only the fatui, but a harbinger. It's clear why someone tried to kidnap Tartaglia's kid but...it's not smart either.

The Fatui have a large amount of people working for them, and most aren't afraid to attack. And due to the fact Childe is a harbinger, it's easy for him to get people to find you as soon as he knows of your disappearance and when you are found, he asks his subordinates to take you back to his house where his family will look after you whilst Childe *cough cough* uh...deals with the perps responsible.

He'll come back soon, cleaned up but faintly smelling of blood and double checks to see you're okay. Now he does go back to work faster then anyone else, this is mainly because I don't think he'll really be allowed time off, however he does have some subordinates keep an eye on you from afar.

Oh archons, he is p a n i c k i n g. Once Kaveh finds out you've been kidnapped he's so worried, it takes Alhaitham to actually shake him to get him to finally focus on finding you. Unfortunately unlike the others listed in this post so far, he cannot easily go looking for you himself. However being friends with Cyno does mean you have the General of the Mahamatra looking for you and he is good at his job.

It may take awhile but eventually Cyno does find you, and after dealing with the kidnappers and arresting them. Takes you to the Sumeru hospital (they have one right?) to get healed as he tells Kaveh that you've been found.

Kaveh stays by your side no matter what, he'll sleep on the damn floor of the hospital if he has too, he doesn't even leave you once you're discharged from it either. He feels so guilty about what happened and blames himself so he tries his best to make more time with you. Even if this means his debts may increase, he just wants to spend as much time with you as possible encase this happens again.

And hey, Alhaitham may be kind enough to dismiss Kavehs missed rent payment that month.

Weehee. I actually enjoyed writing this :D However next time please make sure to check to see if my requests are open before sending one in, in any case I hope you liked this <33

[slickchickchocolatier]

H I S M A R K : H E E T H A N

WARNINGS: SMUT (UNPROTECTED), DUBCON TO NONCON SMUT, OVERSTIMULATION, SYMBOLISM, MARKINGS, YANDERE LOVE, OBSESSION, POSSESSIVE, MENTIONS OF MURDER, MISSING PERSON, FORCED LOVE, ISOLATION, CURSING, RESTRAINING, SOLITARY CONFINEMENT, HATE SEX, ANGRY SEX, MAYBE MAKEUP SEX, NOT PROOREAD (YET).

NOTE: THIS TAKES PLACE RIGHT BEFORE THE LATEST EVENTS OF HHP.

‘Let me tell you a story…

It is a tale that takes place before God created angels, and the continents spoke in ancient dialect.

Less stars filled the night sky, and the planets lingered in a straight line. Mortals in their youth stared and admired these stars, and drafted tales based on their alignment. Stories of The Big Dipper, and Orions Belt came to life, fulfilling philosophers with ideas and astronomers with hope. Amongst these glittering specters, was the Goddess of the Moon.

Unlike those around her, she laid in lonesome silence, and invisible to all who stared at the sky. Residing in her shadowed kingdom, she cries out of sorrow, for no light emerged from her home. In truth, she was nothing but the queen of a shallow orbit, despaired at the thought of mortals never witnessing her presence.

One day, while traveling in his usual circuit to warmthe earth, the Sun God appeared, crossing paths with the pitiful Moon. Seeing her in distress, he asks her delicately…

“Pretty Moon, why do you cry?”

Tilting her chin up, she bestows a wet, wide-eyed stare, and tells him. “I am invisible…I have no light. I lay amongst the twinkling of stars who shine brightly without effort, and witness tales created in their honor…I cannot make light of my own, therefore man will never witness my glory.”

The Sun God looks down at the dreadful Goddess, sympathizing with her. To provide comfort, he gives her a solution, by telling her to use his own light to generate her own. He shines brightly and warms her gray kingdom. “Shine bright, my beauty. For you will no longer be ignored by anyone. Let me warm you with my rays, and may you glow brighter than anything in the universe.”

Just as the Sun God promised through his aid, the Moon Goddess shined brightly. She glowed brighter than any star in the sky, and was called the “Sun of the night”.

As the hours of the day rotate, the Moon stationed herself in the middle of the darkened sky, only to find that she went back to being an invisible silhouette again. Seeking his help, she pleads to the merciful Sun; his response gave her gratification once more.

“Pretty Moon, don’t you worry. I will always make you shine and glow. Everyone in the world will know of your beauty. They will use your presence as a guide in the darkness…all you need to do is to commit yourself to me. Never leave my side and use my light to make ‘our’ light. Be a part of me forever…”

The Moon, not withstanding the thought of being invisible any longer, did as the Sun bids her…and each night, she shone brightly than the last.

But as time went by, she soon learned, that no matter how glorious she appeared, everyone could see that she was only as beautiful as the Sun would allow her to be. Mortals spoke and philosophically determined her reliance to the Sun, configuring that her existence could only be due to him.

Shamed at the thought of losing her independence as the Queen of the night, and becoming a slave to the Sun God.

Refusing to end the long line of matriarchal reign, the Moon tries to distance herself from the Sun’s grasp, yearning to gain the freedom she once had…but it was too late.

“Pretty Moon you can’t escape. Don’t you see? Without me, you cannot brighten the dark sky…leaving me means to leave the entire world in darkness. Stay with me and never leave again, and I will ensure that you shine brighter than ever.”

For centuries, the Moon rested in the shackles of the suns rays, finding it impossible to leave. Craving his light, she feeds off his hand and thus lived off of him. The Moon accepted her fate; without him, she would cease to exist…

Without him…she cannot produce light….

Without her Sun…she is nothing. And so, by his side she stays…forever holding back tears of regret. With a permanent smile edged on her surface, mortals are fooled by her perfected glow. Just as she had wanted, tales of her glory did emerge, yet always paired with her husband, the Sun.

“I am forever stuck here. I can never leave…I can never go back home….the Sun has his grasp on me and I won’t ever be the same again…for centuries I have been stationed this side….even during the day. They see my hallow form in daylight, not realizing that I am left with no choice…I am left with no say….for thousands of years he has kept me…and for thousands more, he will.”

Oh, to be the Diamond in the Sky….what an eternal price to pay…’

………………

This week had been the worst…followed by the last, and even the one before that. Was it just a twist of fate? Or perhaps it was something in the atmosphere. There was no way in telling, all you could figure was that each time you tried to make up with him, he pushed you further over the edge.

It has been over a year since you and Heeseung started dating. Despite the atrocities that occurred, such as the one with Samuel, or Tiff and Scott, you both lived blissfully in each other’s presence…just you and Heeseung.

It didn’t take long for people to see the rather unusual circumstance of your relationship with him. Just days after you became his, it became well known that you were strictly off limits…and by strictly, you mean that had anyone so much as looked your way, they would meet a very unpleasant meeting. Sometimes, though you have yet to substantiate it yourself, but you were quite certain by the disappearance of some who took interest, that they may even have met with death at his hand.

Of course with his family connections and the corruption they stirred in the city, any case that raised eyebrows always came to an unsolved end without any leads. The last time you inquired about a certain classmate, who miraculously disappeared after he approached and handed you a note that read…

‘I won’t tell if you don’t. ;)’

Of course, had he had enough brains to hand you the note aside and not in front of Heeseung’s car, he might have still been around. Had he any brains at all, he would have refrained from even seeking any prospective relation with you since you were claimed by “Ethan the Heathen”, or so they called him by.

You knew his level of love for you extended past what was considered normal, and sane. But it didn’t mean that innocent people should get hurt, all because of you. You figured that since he placed you above all, even himself, it may have earned you leeway in talking to him, perhaps even bringing the toxicity down a bit. But just as you inquired about the missing male, he accused you of loving him less. He further provoked you by claiming that your inquiry of another man’s whereabouts was unwarranted and that the only one you should ever think about, was him.

How could he ever speak to you in such a manner?

Perhaps you were at fault…since the very beginning, you knew of his crazed obsession with you. Not only were you aware…you liked it.

Many people would think you’re crazy if they ever heard you say it aloud, and rightfully so. Unlike those around you, they will never know this feeling of belonging to one person, who out of their own selfish love for you, suppresses you in isolation. Detaching you from the world, and safekeeping you for their own pleasure, they beat and pass deathly judgement onto those who touch you, those who try and hurt you. It was a sinful feeling of danger and adventure, and despite wanting him to do things right and in a rational sense, you’d be lying if you told others that his malicious insanity didn’t make you feel most loved.

But you knew it was wrong…and you couldn’t live the rest of your life being a death trap for others.

You denied that he had done anything extensive, but at the accidental discovery of bloodied clothes, kerosene, shovels, and potential weapons, all tucked away in a false wall within the closet, you developed the worst of fears.

……

“I just think that…maybe you could relax a little bit. I am always going to be here with you.” You initiate the conversation…again. Much to his annoyance. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too crazy? Plus, it would be nice if I could leave the room and go to the store or cafe by myself from time to time. I wouldn’t mind being treated like a human being, and not so much as a dog kept in a cage.”

You knew you were crossing the line, and surely you expected for him to give out one of usual punishments of locking you away for hours, chained or tied to one of the heavy upholsteries inside the room, sometimes nude or barely dressed in undergarments. Then of course, when he was really angered by your abhorrence, he took it up a step further from lessons learned through solitary confinement, and subjected you to derogatory acts that resulted in him demeaning you, physically and mentally, and breaking your spirit.

Strange…how one man could make you feel the most love, and yet at the same time, make you feel most ignored and even hated.

“Whenever you’re good, why can’t you just stay that way?” He’d snap out, hissing his tongue as he corners you, pressing your frame into a cowering stance as you kneel before him. “Why can’t you just fucking see how much I love you…it should be obvious by now.”

You argued back that there was no doubt that his love for you was present, and that you appreciated his gestures and the strength of his desire for you…it’s just…

“It’s just—I just want us to be a normal couple. Sometimes you really scare me, and I don’t know how to live with you when you display that side of you…that side that almost seems murderous.”

Instantly you regretted being so upfront. The moment he took your wrist, you regretted it even more.

“I’m so done fighting, get over here!” He spits out as he drags you away. Immediately, you realize he intended on chaining you up again, locking you away while he would ignore and leave you for God knows how long. It always drove you crazy with how lonely you’d become. He’d take away your phone, silence your screams through whatever gag-suppressing method he intended to use, and would even drug you to sleep by forcing a sleeping pill, or two, or sometimes opted for a natural sedative such as melatonin infused tea. It all depended how angry you got him, and right now, he was up there.

“No—stop! No more!” You yell out. It’s too bad you decided to pick today to argue, as his sorority brothers all left for the weekend. In fact, almost everyone on campus did, except you. He wouldn’t let you leave, and since his own schedule didn’t permit him to take you, he kept you back with him. “I want to go home! I hate you!”

You screamed as loudly as you could, not caring if your words hurt or angered him. “One more fucking word and I swear to God, y/n!”

He throws you on the bed, kneeling as he meandered a strategic grip on your arm, attempting to tie you to the bed frame. He’d do so by tightening the ropes to be just taunting enough so that your hands could not meet, and another attached to a belted choker would be latched onto your neck.

He successfully gets one wrist coiled in, and straddles over you to do the next. “You hate me? Then fucking stay here and rot for all I care.”

Your eyes began to tear up as you watch him reach for the other rope. “Don’t worry, I’ll still love you—I can love you even from afar.” He laconically spits out as he attempts to grab hold of your free hand. Desperate to avoid being alone and tied mercilessly, you reach around his neck and pull him in.

“Don’t! Stop! Please don’t do this!”

He ignores your pleads as he attempts to raise his frame, but your hold on his neck brings you up with him. He reaches up and tries to peel your arm off, and nearly succeeded effortlessly had it not been you regaining a grip on his jacket collar.

“Don’t do this…don’t leave me, I need you.” Your voice calls as you feel yourself on the verge of breaking down. Yes, you took on a tone of defeat, but if it meant that you weren’t facing lonely-induced depression, then you were willing to do anything. The sudden realization that you wanted him near you, to pay attention to you and to hold you was stronger now. “Please, don’t do this…I can’t be without you.” You cry into his neck as you held a python grip, embracing him as hard as you could.

He kept fighting with you, trying to break free from the single-arm embrace you had, but the softness of your voice and the pleading desire of needing him was starting to get to him. After all, he still loved you…and all he wanted, was for you to love him the way he understands it. It is brutal, irrational, non-sensible, and sadistic, but it was true love.

You cried into his throat and rubbed the tips of your fingers on the back of his nape. Feeling his tense body softened, you gained hope that he would be kind again. You truly were sorry…in the breach of his harsh punishment, you were left with no choice but to feel remorse. Through the guilt of spitting such terrible words, you realized more than ever that you couldn’t survive without him. What would have happened had he not been there to stop Samuel? What about Scott, and Tiff?

“Please…” you sobbed. Feeling his body growing dense against you, it encouraged for you to initiate the movements of passion as you waved your hips up and down, grinding against his groin. Nearly instantaneously, his cock hardens above and yearned to break free from the cloth.

“Please…Heeseung. I’m sorry…Im just scared…scared and nervous.”

You weren’t lying, you truly were scared, but the claim of being nervous wasn’t entirely so. You just knew him so well that had you said the right things, you could turn his mood around in a flick of an instant. Quicker than two fingers snapping. “I just don’t want anyone to break us apart…I’m scared of losing you.”

He raises his head, and you loosened your embrace as you felt him creating distance, not out of spite, but to relay sweet words. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of…not even me…” he gently takes your hand, while reaching for the rope. Damn he was so stubborn. Was he really intending on still tying you up? You committed another desperate move as you quickly raise your face to meet his, and there you kiss him. Initially, he wouldn’t let you in, but feeling your breath coating his lips, and the more your hips grinds against him, he falters. Finally…he kisses you.

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m sorry? Isn’t there anything I could do than to be locked away?” You breathed against his mouth once more, speaking softly as your tongue gently massages his. “Don’t you want me to be close to you anyhow? Wouldn’t you rather be locked away with me? Just the two of us…away from it all? Heeseung?”

Your hips begin to gyrate as that familiar tingle blisters beneath your pelvic muscles. You pick up the pace just a little more, and wrap a leg around his hips. “Heeseung…please…please touch me.”

You begged. He was staying strong in trying to refuse your advances, but seeing how much you yearned for him…it’s all he’s ever wanted and loved on this earth. Staying silent and stoic, he tries and stays strong, but your tenacity is breaking him piece by piece. God…why did you have to put on your bedroom voice…why did you have to move into him the way you were right now…why did you have to kiss him and tell him that you needed him.

“Heeseung please…please touch me. Fuck me…do everything to me.” You moaned out the last bit and that did it for him. Despite being angry with you, he could never resist your obedient nature.

He squares his face with yours, gripping onto your neck, a little more tighter than usual. “Tell me you need me.” His voice was dark and heavy, a bit husky as he clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. He as still angry.

“I need you.” You whined, licking his throat with the very tip of your tongue, barely making contact. Had his grip on your throat not pinned you down to the pillow, you would have completely swallowed in skin, lacing his Adams apple with your saliva.

“Tell me you love me—“ his grip snaps tightly, knotting your airway. You slightly gasp as he jerks his grip and squeezes. You choked out the words as you looked pitifully in his eyes. “I-I….l-l-love….you-!”

You coughed up the air flowing back into your lungs as he releases his grip. He comes to a kneeling stance and releases the other rope, but does not untie the one already latched to you. He removes his cap and flings it to the floor, followed by stretching his abdominal muscles while he reaches overhead and peels his shirt off. Your free hand latches onto his belt, attempting to loosen it, only for his hands to slap it away. “No—I’m still pissed off at you.” He hisses as he undoes the buckle and zipper of his trousers. Pulling them a quarter way down, along with his briefs, he slides his pants down just enough for his lengthy cock to poke out freely, testicles included.

He leans back in, hovering on her as he extends an arm and props it next to your head, while the other lines his tip directly at your entrance. You could tell that by his nature, he wasn’t going to be as cementing as he would have been, and this been a punishable act, but not entirely loving. It was going to be a little of both.

“Fuck you…y/n.” Was all he said before leaning his head down and aggressively kissing you. Ramming himself in, he thrusts his cock inside, forcing it past un-prepped tissue and muscle as you felt yourself tearing. You help into his mouth, screaming eternally as he swallows it all. He wouldn’t let your mouth break free, in fact each time you moved your head away, his mouth remained latched on and his face trailed your every movement. You felt the flaring of his nostrils as he chalked harshly against your skin while thrusting deeper and deeper. Once he hit bottom, he strung it out rather fast, before rampaging into you at inhuman speed and momentum. You could feel it…the slight bit of blood and skin ripping apart until finally your body responds, producing a hint of moisture, which allowed him to slide in easily. The subtle curve of his length formed a C-shape, allowing the tip to easily find the soft button deep inside. Each time he thrusted in, his tip poked it, causing it to leak your orgasm little by little.

Squelching, squeezing, and slipping in and out, his movements became faster and more pungent as you kept leaking. From blood and pain comes perfection, and that’s where you were at right now.

“Ah! Ffffffuck! Oh my God—!” You gasp out, screaming and moaning as he kept fucking into you. You spew out your moans into his mouth as he restricted your breathing, by permanently enveloping your lips into a kiss that felt eternal.

Deeper and deeper, he digs in. Grunting and growling against your tongue. He adjust his position by extending both arms, propping his chest up to grant just a bit of space between you two. You gasp and moan, mouth wide open and tongue sticking out as he continued to fuck you senseless and numb. Sticking out his own tongue, he licks the flat surface of your own before swallowing your mouth into another prolonged kiss.

“Please—!!! Oh fuck! Heeseung!!” Your desperate cries only provoked him to keep going, to the point where the stimulation stayed past its welcome, and it became blisteringly painful.

“Sssstop! N-no—no more!” You begged, yearning for mercy. How much longer could this man go? How could he always have so much stamina and vigor in his body?

“Come on y/n…keep screaming…make me fucking cum!” He grunts as he swallows a kiss one final time, before plunging deep inside and filling you. So much, you felt the secretion of his fluids rimming out as his cock pulsed, his balls kissing your soft taint.

Your chest heaves, and you gasp for air as your free hair slaps onto his bicep. Your restrained wrist develops rope burn from all the friction of movement. Suddenly you felt the soft touch of his fingers, gently pinching your chin as he forced you to face him. A small glare from your eye greets the gaze of none other than—

“E..Ethan?”

He smirks maliciously. His usual psychotic stare reeks of a sinister intention as he bites down his lip, chuckling as he slurps in the excess saliva. “Miss me?”

You didn’t have the chance to put the moves on him as you did with his softer side…though you could hardly deem him soft to begin with. But compared to Ethan, anything was soft, even hard steel.

“Oh no wait—you could have missed me because….what was it that you said earlier?” He taps his fingertips along the center of your chest, spider crawling them upwards until he establishes a grip around your neck. “You hate me…RIIIIIIGHT? BABYDOLL?”

Your eyes are widen in fear as you attempt to scream but his offensive lips re-engages you to a lengthy kiss…own that contained the loudest of all your screams.

“Please! Stop! I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean it! You know I don’t hate you, Ethan—“

His dark giggle halts your pleads. “I know…and don’t worry—“ licking a teardrop from your cheek, he whispers into your ear. “By the end of this, you just might hate me. But never to fear…I’m always going to love you…and that’s all that matters right now.”

He lines himself, centered to your soft flesh. “Got a surprise for you after this…”

“W-what….what are you—?”

“Shhh….you’ll see…”

……..

“Y/n! When did you get this?” H/n takes on an exciting tone as she notices the small mark located behind your ear. You tied your hair into a high piney tail, allowing the subtle tattoo to gain some air to help the healing process. “Over the weekend…” you softly spoke. An emotionless expression graces your face as you stare at the blackboard ahead, eyes tracing the white chalked equation your professor drafted. The beating pain from between your thighs sets a reminder of words you could never use against him…ever again.

As per usual, he waits by the curb, already standing outside his car as you walk outside. A part of you happy to see him, while the other half resented him for the pleasure he bestowed you…with pain.

“Hi pretty baby, how was class?”

He cups both sides of your neck, placing a kiss on your forehead. He tilts his head to the side, admiring his mark on you. “It’s healing well. Good.” He smirks against your forehead.

You embrace him in return. You love him…and you can’t live without him. Though you’re not sure if that was by your own willingness or if he has broken you down so many times, rebuilding and training you to rely on him…just him.

You look up and admire the dark look in his eye. Yeah…you do love him.

Reaching up, you delicately tuck some of his shaggy hair away from his cheek, the rest remained pinched against his forehead from the baseball cap adorning his head. In plain sight behind his ear, was the sun. It healed completely.

“My pretty moon loves her sun?” He asked you’d you, gripping your neck subtly as he leans into kiss your lips. “Hmm…yes….”

I must always have…the sun.

[randomdragonfires]

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 4

Chapter 4 | Right Where You Left Me

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY; Slow burn, I think?

WORD COUNT | 3.4k

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

The days passed by in a quiet, green haze.

The cave where she had been made to stay shouldn’t have provided her with as much solitude as it did, given her circumstances. But with each passing moment, she found herself healing, growing stronger, and seeing as clearly as the blue sapphire that now haunted her dreams. She embraced the quietness of it all, allowing her situation to wash over her as she came to terms with it.

She had run, and she hadn’t made it. The claw marks and gashes all over her form were definite proof. In these last few days, she had been too weak to move. She felt pain with every weak movement in her limbs, ensuring her captivity for a longer period of time. But in the time that had passed as she recovered, one thing was constant.

The nightmares, and him.

Night after night, she found herself ensnared in a labyrinth of nightmares, each more vivid and terrifying than the last. In the darkness of her dreams, the snarling beast lurked, its eyes gleaming with malice as it bore down upon her with relentless fury. She would awaken with a start, her heart pounding against her chest as she gasped for air, drenched in cold sweat. The cave around her offered no solace, its walls closing in like the jaws of the predator she’d been trying to escape in her dreams.

In her tired state of mind, she thought she had imagined his warm palm on her forehead, checking for a fever. Had she imagined his mumbled Valyrian whispers too? Ēdrugon sȳrī, mandianna, she had heard, his voice as mellifluous as the calm waters of the stream outside. [Sleep well, niece.]

She had always loved listening to him speak.

At first, his presence was a comfort, his soothing words a balm to her frayed nerves. He would speak to her in hushed tones, murmuring smooth Valyrian into her ears as she struggled to comprehend the light touch of his moving lips on her skin. And when words failed, he would hold her close, his arms a sanctuary against the dreams that threatened to consume her.

Nyke paktot kesīr, he would say. Ao sagon rūsīr issa. [I’m here now… you’re with me.]

But as the nights wore on, confusion crept into her heart, clouding her thoughts like a dense fog. His touch, once a source of uninhibited, fanciful love, now stirred something unfamiliar within her, a longing and heaviness that she could not name. She would lie awake, breathing and panting in the silence of the cave, her mind awash with questions that had no answers.

Was it his gentle touch that set her soul ablaze, or was it merely the anger at being ripped away from her beloved in the middle of the night? How did it come to this? How did he end up becoming the very safety that she sought to gain by running far and away from him? She could not say, and so she clung to him like a lifeline, seeking refuge in the warmth of his embrace. What else could she do?

Those were the thoughts that consumed her as she sat up, her body sore as she grunted in pain. She sat up for the first time in what she assumed could only be days, and managed to stand up too. She braced herself with a hand on the slippery cave wall, her eyes landing on the mountain of discarded bandages - covered presumably in her own blood.

She closed her eyes shut and tried to get a grip on her surroundings once more - it seemed that no matter how many times she had tried, she couldn’t come to terms with being brought to the jungle by a man who made her heart rush to wherever he touched her - no matter his intentions to hurt her family.

Are you ashamed of me, mother? For wanting him despite it all? For never stopping?

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, determined to wrestle back control from the haunting memories that threatened to take her for all she was worth. At first, all she could hear were the echoes of that harrowing encounter - the guttural snarls of the boar and the piercing screams - both his and hers - that tore through the air.

No, no, no.

But she refused to let fear hold her captive any longer. Slowly, she forced her mind to shift its focus, reaching beyond the darkness that threatened to suffocate her. Gradually, the noises of her nightmares began to fade, replaced by the gentle sounds of the forest - the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the melodious chirping of birds, and the soothing murmur of the stream of water trickling nearby. Before she knew it, the water had called to her and she walked slowly before stepping inside.

The sting of the wounds from initial contact faded and gave way to a relaxing sensation that made her skin tingle. Her shift billowed in the water, and she let herself breathe before she lifted her head up to breathe. She kept up these motions until she raised her head up to find that Aemond had come back, from wherever he’d gone. His presence, though familiar, sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through her veins, stirring something deep within her.

His expression was one that she knew all too well; there was no mistaking the lust in his eyes as they simply stared at each other, unmoving. In the calmness of her mind, it was easy to forget the weight of their shared history, to lose herself in the fantasy of a time long before the war had torn them apart. Every stolen kiss, every tender touch—it all rushed back to her in a dizzying whirlwind of emotion, threatening to consume her with its intensity.

If she were to beckon him to her right now, would he come? Should she?

The question lingered in the air, heavy with anticipation and uncertainty. But before she could find the words to speak, he was the first to look away, breaking the spell that had held them captive. With a heavy sigh, she watched as he turned away, the distance between them stretching like an unbridgeable chasm. And in that bittersweet moment, she knew that some things were better left unsaid, some desires left unfulfilled. For as much as she yearned for his touch, she also knew the pain that lay in its wake—the shattered dreams, the broken promises.

One moment she wanted to see him die, and the next, her heart would tear itself apart with how much it wanted him. She hated this, not knowing how she felt about him.

But didn’t she?

He set up a fire and sat on a log, staring into the fire like it held all the answers. What did he hope to see?

When the water went from being calming to making her feel cold, she stepped out, damp clothes sticking to her form as she walked, resembling a Goddess come to life. She took her seat next to him, hugging her knees tight as she leaned forward to take in the warmth. She breathed in the smoky smell of the fire, goosebumps rising from the heat of the fire and his gaze, now focused on her.

“How long do you plan on keeping me here, uncle?”

Winterfell was beginning to feel less like a foreign land and more like a place she could learn to love and call home.

She had taken her time familiarizing herself with every nook and corner without intruding on what she wasn’t meant to see in her capacity as a guest. If the war ends in her mother’s favor, she knows she’ll soon be Lady of this castle - no longer a guest. She had walked around the gardens, taken her time with the Godswood, gone down to visit the kitchens, and strolled on the grounds countless times. She had made friends, people she loved to speak to and smile at every day; those who made this uncertain time much more bearable as she tried to push horrid thoughts about her family at war to the back of her mind.

And him.

Finding no answers to her confusions as to why Aemond would draw first blood by killing the brother of the woman he loved, her mind raced much too fast for her convenience. She knew why, though, deep down. She simply refused to believe it.

Believing it would mean coming to terms with the fact that he had given up on her. On them.

While she chose not to trust her mind, her heart was a lot more fickle. Lord Stark had been perfectly gracious and treated her with all the gentleness worthy of a Princess and a future wife. It was a calmer, happier, and much less doubtful relationship than the one she had with Aemond. It was steady, and it was hers now.

This would all be hers. Lord Stark would rule the Keep, and she would rule him. He was hers, and he made sure she had no doubts about the same.

The thought did not make her feel as bad as it used to. This would be her way of moving on with her life and doing her part to ensure her mother’s victory. Cregan brought her a satisfaction of doing things right that Aemond did not. She never had to doubt him or herself with this man. Lighter feelings of infatuation clouded her mind as she walked to the library, her purposeful stride taking her to where her future husband sat.

The scent of old parchment hung heavy in the air as she found herself closer to where he was, mingling with the subtle aroma of beeswax polish that adorned the wooden tables and chairs scattered throughout the room. At the heart of the library stood a grand fireplace, its crackling flames casting a warm glow that bathed the room in a soft, golden light. And right next to it, he sat in a wooden chair, elbow on the armrest as he held his face up by the chin. He looked worse for wear and dejected, and it pained her to see.

What was it about her that she only ever ended up with men who chose to brood like there was no tomorrow?

She stood by the arch, leaning to the side as she debated disturbing him when he seemed like he’d much rather be left alone. As she decided to step out and read while waiting for him to come out on his own accord, she heard his heavy voice call after her.

“Princess.”

“My lord.” She couldn’t possibly leave now, so she walked in, steps as quiet as the man himself. She took to standing in front of him, her figure forming a dark silhouette as she blocked the hearth from his view. He leaned forward and took her hands in his, and she was startled by how huge they were in comparison to hers. Aemond’s hands were beautiful in an obviously otherworldly Targaryen way, with nimble, dexterous fingers; Cregan’s were unabashedly huge and well-worked yet warm, just like him.

She would learn to stop comparing them soon. It would not be long. Damned mind and heart, forever at war.

He’d had to execute a Night’s Watch deserter today - the Northerners pass their own sentences, she’d been told. “I heard you’ve had a taxing day. I thought I’d…” It seemed silly to her now to think her presence would lighten him up given the circumstances. She turned to look at the path she’d walked through, nervous at her thoughts of inadequacy as she thought of a suitable excuse to walk away without feeling embarrassed. But it seemed that there was no need.

“I killed a man today. Swung Ice heavy and clean into his neck… and now, I hold the most beautiful woman in the realm with the very same hands.” He talked as though he was speaking to himself rather than her - there was a certain absent-mindedness about him that endeared him to her - or was it his way of showing that his mind was preoccupied?

“Aye, good fortune is shining upon me.”

She smiled, never considering that her presence could bring about that level of comfort to a man who seemed much more put together than she. Her gaze was half-lidded as she looked down at him, his head leaning forward to rest his forehead upon their conjoined hands.

“What’s it like?” She regretted the words immediately after they tumbled out, knowing very well that she was throwing into his face the very subject that he probably wished to forget.

“Do you really want to know? It is a topic unsuited for a woman of your gentle nature, Princess.”

“If you want to speak, I want to listen.”

She did not miss his somber smile, making it clear to her that he appreciated her company more than he let on - for now, that was enough. “When men pledge themselves to the Night’s Watch, it is an oath for life. It is a matter of keeping your word, of honor. And when you’ve proved that your word means little and less, you’ve disrespected those you swore to protect. When this happens… as their liege lord, it is my place to punish them for it. It is not something I take pride in, but it needs to be done. One cannot put off justice for too long. Never.”

“Does it always have to be you swinging the sword?”

“Aye. ‘Tis only respectful to the man losing his life, regardless of his fallacies.”

She nodded, understanding his reasoning, and grateful that he’d seen fit to let her understand. Most would dismiss her, saying it did not fall under a lady’s purview - but he didn’t, and she appreciated that more than he knew.

For a moment, they stayed together in silence. He only got warmer with each passing moment, a feeling of comfort in the cold air that she’d grown accustomed to. “I am grateful… that it’s you,” she said. She didn’t know what she hoped to achieve by saying it, but she did anyway.

“I’m glad you’re happier, Princess. I…” She found doubt in his eyes as he debated whether or not to say the words, but she wordlessly encouraged him to go ahead by squeezing his hands in her hold. “Your brother told me that your loyalties are… divided; that you will need time to accept me. I am glad that you are.”

She tensed at the mention of her affections for Aemond, but she was quick to let it pass. She would not entertain her heart’s pull towards the man who killed her brother - she would not. Here sat a good man with the patience of a maester - she would learn to be worthy of his affections.

Almost as though he sensed her train of thought, he pulled her right back to where he was. “Princess?”

She smiled, a tired smile of resignation as she found herself grateful at the hand she’d been dealt. A time of war, where well-bred men were turned into murderers - and somehow, the Gods saw fit to give this good man to her. She was thankful, and by the Gods, she would learn to love him well.

“I’m happy too.”

“How long do you plan on keeping me here, uncle?”

She refused to look at him. Her eyes were trained on the fire, the blaze blinding her for a moment until she turned to look the other way to escape the heat-induced tears in her eyes. She felt the dampness of her form and clothes dissipate with each passing moment, and she let her throat bob as she allowed herself to calm down.

“As long as it takes.” His voice was devoid of any emotion at all, and she was struck by how hard it was for her to read him through his words - it wasn’t like this before. She used to be able to make out his emotions from the simplest of words or noises, but now it was as though she was made to face a stranger. But then again, she didn’t know this man. The Aemond she knew and loved was not battle-tested and war-worn; he was a scholarly achiever who took more pride in himself than his spoils. How could she understand him if she did not know him at all?

“And you see no other way to exact revenge? He’s…” The weight of her words overwhelmed her, and she could not bring herself to complete the sentence.. Here she was, abducted at night from where her mother thought she’d be safe, by the man whom she once upon a time believed would protect her - eventually, both Winterfell and Aemond had led to her current state.

“The war is over, uncle. The realm is slowly getting back up and the lords are working towards peace once more. Must you truly be so vengeful? Undo all the work that is being done?” The anger and tension was palpable, with her not being able to contain herself. The more she spoke, the more she knew that all of what he did was unnecessary - but then again, this entire Dance was unnecessary, was it not? “Cregan is good to me. He’s a good man and he cares about Westeros, he cares about making Aegon a worthy King despite all the poor child has been through-”

“No amount of goodness can change the fact that Cregan Stark did not pledge allegiance to the rightful king.”

“The rightful king? Grandfather declared my mother the rightful heir long before Aegon was even born -”

“Before he was born! When he was born, she lost every right to the Iron Throne. A much more sensible woman would have stepped away, but my sweet sister -”

“It was HER RIGHT!”

“It was never hers and it was certainly not yours or your bastard brothers' to claim!” With words exchanged and thrown at each other like weapons, her hands had been animatedly moving about as was her habit. But she froze at those last words. She knew very well that he had too, if the sudden hitching of his breath was any indication.

He wouldn’t apologize, that much she knew. He was much too proud and condescending about his otherworldly and striking Targaryen features to apologize to her - for she knew very well what she was, even if nobody else would openly admit to it.

A bastard.

Her mind was a mess as she looked at him, at a loss for words. The spell had shifted, they weren’t bickering as they used to any longer. In the silence, a moment suspended in time, she looked at him - really, truly, looked.  

And there sat a boy. Not a battle-tested man who was now a hidden fugitive, but a boy. The boy that she’d known and loved. How much longer could they possibly hold on to grudges that neither had inflicted upon each other? The war had broken them, gotten them to drift apart - but where did it end?

Her heart ached as she beheld him, recognizing the boy she had once known beneath the bitterness and resentment that time and circumstance had piled upon him. The lines etched into his face told stories of battles fought and losses endured, but his eyes betrayed the weariness of a soul weighed down by burdens too heavy to bear alone.

He was tired. 

He was depressed, hungry for revenge and angry, but in close vicinity, as her hand reached up to let her fingertips graze over his eyepatch, she could not help but think. This was her Aemond. She’d waited for him to take her away, and in a cruel twist of fate, they ended up here.

In the dim glow of twilight, her voice, a tantalizing whisper, wrapped around him like a spell. "I haven't ever seen you without your eyepatch. You never let me." Each word, a delicate lure, tugged at something deep within her; a longing that she had never quite moved on from, but scarcely dared to acknowledge in her time away from him.

If she leaned in just a bit more, she could kiss him. Would it be wrong to? Did he want her to? What was he thinking?

His hand closed around her wrist, holding her delicate touch in place over his concealed eye. With a weary exhale, he released a breath burdened with the weight of countless battles, etched into the lines of his weathered face.

How had she gone this far without him? 

Before she let her fleetingly powerful feelings take over her, she closed her eyes and walked away. In the distance, a lone wolf's mournful howl pierced the tranquil stillness of the forest, making for a haunting melody.

Next Chapter

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[catcze]

[ ###… ] GN reader ( no clothing / pronouns specified ), Royal Reader x Knight / Bodyguard Wrio who is so gone for you, secret relationship type shii, a little ooc on account that he's a knight and you're in public, jealousy (just a bit <3), reader leads when they dance, suggestive-ish ending (up to interpretation), not related to my other royal x knight work

His palms are sweating under his gloves. Gods, he hopes that he doesn't look as nervous as he feels.

"Why so serious, Wriothesley?" You coo, dancing around him with a grace and poise that, while not a surprise, takes his breath away.

Wriothesley tries to keep up, his hand clenching around yours and his jaw tense. The numerous eyes —undoubtedly every single one in this forsaken ballroom— trained on the two of you do him no favors.

"All due respect, Your Majesty," he says, teeth grit, "I don't think it's appropriate to address your bodyguard so familiarly. Some might say it's inappropriate."

You scoff, leading the two of you further into the dance, twirling and whirling around the dance floor as if it were as easy as breathing. "Inappropriate my ass," you mutter, "I don't think anyone'll muster up the guts to tell the ruler of the kingdom what is and isn't appropriate."

Wriothesley sighs, long-suffering, but you catch it— the fond quirk to his lips that he reserved only for you, and your heart soars. Even if his steps are a little unsure, a little less practiced than your own, it's lovely to see the tenseness slowly ease out of him with each second that you two spend in your own little world. Your knight had been looking so dour the entire evening, forced to remain by your side as you met with all sorts of people, no small number of them enamored with you and vying for any attention from you.

He hadn't said anything when the droves of suitors had sidled up to you, pressing kisses to the back of your hand and whispering compliments in your ear and staring at you with eyes oh-so-adoring. Wriothesley had only ever remained at your side, silent as others vied for your attention. He had been quiet, watching out for your safety and ensuring that you were fine, as a good bodyguard should.

Ah, but it hadn't escaped you: how his hand tightened on the hilt of his sheathed sword and the furrow between his brows seemed just a bit more severe. How his jaw was tense as if he were in a battlefield rather than a ballroom, and he was facing an opponent he wasn't sure he could beat.

And so— you felt that a dance was in order. Just to help him relax, of course, no other reason.

Wriothesley's palm is warm when you squeeze it. "You are insufferable, Your Majesty," is all he can say. You have to fight back a laugh.

"Don't act like you don't love it."

Another sigh, but he doesn't deny it.

The dance continues, with the two of you dancing with grace and fluidity. Undoubtedly, as it nears its end, whoever hadn't been made aware of the display in the center of the room certainly had now, and all eyes were trained on the two of you.

And you— much to Wriothesley's fluster— grow bolder with each second that this all comes to a close.

Your fingers twine with his, and your touch becomes lingering and borderline intimate. Your hands are not shy when you hold him, and you press yourself close to his chest. He hears the audience gasp, but cannot bring himself to turn away from you— not when you're so close, when your eyes shine under the chandelier and you fucking smile in a way that he thinks is only meant for his eyes.

"Eyes on me," you say quietly, as if you ever had to remind him.

You twist and you turn and you pull him along, and your bodyguard is all too happy to follow your lead. The nervousness from earlier, the envy and the longing— they all vanish like smoke under your careful touch and the squeeze of your hand in his.

He can see why you've always liked your dance lessons, growing up. It's like he's in his own little world, just him and you.

But all-too-soon, the musicians play their final note and as the music fades you feet still, and the dance ends. You're panting a little, and so is he. Neither of you move for a good, long while, staring at each other as the audience waits on bated breath, as enraptured by this tension as Wriothesley is.

You wink at him and pull away, but before he can miss your warmth, your hand finds his, hidden from prying eyes. You cast your gaze back over the crowd, and smile— and before Wriothesley knows it an applause starts up, and he can hear (even from this distance) the praises being sung by the nobles.

"I'm rather tired from all that, so I'll be taking my leave early," you announce after you catch your breath, just for them all to hear. Before the nobles can begin to protest, can beg you to stay, you turn to Wriothesley and give him a small smile. "Will you escort me back to my room, loyal bodyguard?"

And Wriothesley, heart in his throat, squeezes the had you keep out of everyone else's sight, and smiles back. A smile he reserves for only you.

"Of course, Your Majesty."