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storiesfromafan · 24 days

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Jealousy Does Look Good On You - Benny x Reader

A/N: this was just me pulling something out of a hat, haha. Bit of writers block right now. But something is better then nothing.

Also, forgive me if this isn't that good. As well as, excuse my attempt at describing their kissing, its been a little haha.

Enjoy.

Tag list: @strayrockette

I wont look at him. I wont look at him. I wont look at him, you chanted over and over in your head. Determined to not pay Benny any mind. It's his choice if he wanted to entertain another woman across the room from you. It's not like you were together, nor his girl.

Your relationship with Benny was undefined, though you thought the striking Vandal was into you just as much as you were into him. But apparently it was just one sided; yours. And now he was showing another woman how to play pool. The very thing that led to you even speaking to Benny in the first place a month ago.

You had seen the raven haired vixen by the jukebox, eyeing up Benny for an hour before making her move. She had started talking to Wahoo and Corky, before Benny got roped in by the two men. From there – as you watched – she moved closer to Benny. Then she got touchy when they talked, laughing at jokes made. And then he was showing her how to play pool.

That was it. You had turned your back to the scene. Your heart not being able to take it any more. The beer you had been nursing, now your best friend. Kathy had been watching you, and the scene with Benny. Shaking her head she couldn’t believe how brazen the woman was, as well as Benny for going there.

“Forget him" Kathy said, shooting daggers at the pool table.

“I'm tryin'” you sighed. “I need another drink".

With that you got up and headed for the bar. Standing with your arms on the counter, you waited to be served. All the while hearing the obnoxious laugh of the raven hair woman. You rolled your eyes, wanting to gag at the sound. Finally you put in an order for two beers – you thought you’d be nice and get Kathy another beer – when an all to familiar body lent on the counter next to you.

Benny bumped his shoulder into yours. “Hi".

“Hi" you replied flatly, keeping your eyes straight. As you know one look at him and you'd be a goner, when you wanted to be mad.

Benny frowned, a confused look upon his face. “Everythin’ alright?”

You nodded your head. “Peachy" – your two beers were place before you, and you grabbed them – “you better go back to your new friend, she must be missin' your company".

And with that you walked off, leaving Benny even more confused then when he stepped up to the bar. Running his hand threw his hair, he was about to follow you, when Corky called him back to the pool table. With a moment of pause, Benny gave in and went back for a new game of pool. All the while trying to work out what was up with you.

“Here" you said placing a beer before Kathy, “thought I'd get ya one".

She thanked you, observing you after watching the icy exchange with Benny. Seeing the blank look upon your face, but eyes telling her how upset you were.

“What was that at the bar?” She asked, all motherly with you.

You sighed. “He came over and said hi. I replied back but I guess he could tell somethin's off, so he asked if everythin' alright”. You took a sip of your new beer.

“Your reply was?”

“Peachy...you better go back to your new friend, she must be missin' your company”. You took another, longer sip.

Kathy's eyes widened as she moved in her seat. “Was that smart?”

You shrugged. “Probably not. But felt good".

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah it usually does, until it wears off. Then ya feel like shit".

Again you nodded, taking a sip. “Yes, I know that. I'm feelin' it right now Kathy".

She patted you on the back. “I know. But do your best to not think about it. I doubt Benny is interested in her, I know he only has eyes for ya". She gave you a wink and a soft smile.

All you could do was give her a weak smile. God bless her for trying to cheer you up. But to be honest, you could understand why Benny would go for Raven locks. She was beautiful, dressed like she belonged here, and was confident. Everything you weren’t. You weren't an ugly duckling, but you weren't on her level. You were more of a young Doris Day, while she gave Marilyn Monroe.

After the exchange at the bar, Benny kept his distance. And that added to your despair. You really did shoot yourself in the foot. You stole looks from time to time. They looked comfortable standing next to each other. You even saw her rest her head on his shoulder with a giggle. But what put an end to the night for you was watching her wrap her arms around his neck in joy when she won a game of pool.

“I'm done" you informed Kathy gathering your cardigan and bag. “I can’t do it anymore. I'm headin' out”.

She frowned at you but understood. “Ya want to get a cab together?”

You shook your head. “Nuh, I'm good. I think a walk would be good. But thanks” you gave her a small smile. “Have a good night".

With that you moved through the bar, around various Vandals till you made it the main doors. The cool night air hit you, so you put on your cardigan, slinging your bag over your shoulder. With the briefest of a look in both directions, you crossed the road and began to head down the street. It would be a good twenty minute walk back to your place, if you walked at a decent pace. But with how you were feeling, a slow stroll would be your pace tonight.

Of course your mind thought about Benny, and how the night had gone. Usually when you came to the bar he would play a few rounds of pool before joining you and Kathy. He'd sit next to you, arm resting on the back of your chair. You both would share looks, you’d admire his beautiful blue eyes and killer smile. Or watch when he would smoke a cigarette. You'd watch him take a drag, hold it and admire how he would let the smoke out. As well as his hands, his fingers holding the cigarette so gently.

Other times you would lionize his arms. Noting his muscles and how they react to his movements. Or study the random tattoos that adorn those arms. But you'd always go back to Benny's face, taking in his stunning features. His strong jaw line that was covered in stubble. His cheek bones and full lips. And the messy blonde locks upon his head, just beginning to have a hand run threw them.

But here you were, walking home miserable and hearthaching. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back. Just until you got home, and were safely behind a close door to finally breakdown. For you knew you were partially to blame. You probably pissed Benny off with your words. Or he didn't care, and took your words as a pass at the other woman. Either way, it didn't help you.

Turning right down a street littered with shops, you made sure to stay in the light and away from any allays. You weren't going to take any chances of some creep grabbing you. Maybe it might have been smart to get a taxi after all.

The closing in sound of a motorbike caught your ears, but you didn't pay it any mind. Too focused on wallowing in self pity and getting home. Hearing it slow down, before stopping by the curb caused you to panic a little. Why would someone stop near you, when the street was empty. You decided to pick up the pace, clutching your bag.

It was when a large, calloused hand grabbed your arm, did you jump and make a scared sound. They held onto you tightly when you tried to pull away. Then they pulled you back around, and you were met with concerned baby blues looking at you.

“Hey, it's only me" Benny said in a calm voice.

Hearing his voice you relaxed a little, letting yourself take a few slow breaths to calm your racing heart.

“What are ya doin' walkin' home, let alone, at this time of night, doll?” Benny asked, letting go of your arm to place his hands on your shoulders.

You shrugged. “Seemed like a nice night for a walk?”

Benny gave you a sharp look, not buying your words. “Really, what's goin' on (Y/N)?”

“I told ya” you replied stepping out of Benny's grasp.

“I don't buy it. Tell me what's wrong”.

You sighed, “nothin' alright. I am fine, perfectly peachy”.

He groaned. “There’s that damned word again”.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What, peachy?” – Benny nodded – “it's a perfectly acceptable word".

He chuckled. “Yeah, you like to use it when you're upset. So what is it this time? Is it the woman at the bar?”

You stood there silent for a moment, processing your response. But from the lack of reply, Benny got his answer.

“No, not at all. You're free to spend your free time with whom ever ya like” was what you went with. Not a very strong reply, but its all you got.

Benny laughed loudly. “Jealously sure is a cute colour on you".

Your shot him a dark look, moving your hands to rest on your hips. “I am not jealous Benjamin Cross! Far from it!”

With that you turned on your heel and started to storm off, leaving Benny to laugh some more. But upon realising you were seriously annoyed, he took off after you. He tried to get to you to stop, even offered to give you a ride home. Which you refused.

“Come on, it's quicker and safer if I get ya home” Benny stated, following closely.

“I'm fine. I'd say its more worrisome to be with a Vandal” you retorted.

That hurt Benny. And it was a low blow, you know. But he irked you. So, your words were justified.

“Come on, please let me take ya home” Benny sighed, before he got a bad idea. “The quicker I get ya home safely, the quicker I can get back to the bar and that woman".

That was it. You stopped, before turning around in a flash. Anger and hurt shone in your eyes.

“If its that so important go back now! I said I am fine!” You said with a raised voice. “She seemed to like ya too, from how she was practically in ya arms or in ya lap! Don't mind me, I'm just stupid to think I stood a damn chance. But, like usual, I am-”

You didn’t get to finish your rant. For Benny – amused by your dummy spit – grabbed your arm and pulled you in, his lips silencing you with a kiss. He moved his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin. You were in shock. Benny was kissing you. He kissed you to stop you from talking.

He pulled back, looking down at you from under his eyelashes. “Ya good?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it. How does one speak after that? But your eyes told him that you were trying to wrap your head around what just happened. He saw shock, confusion and a small flicker of hope.

“What-why?” You sputtered out.

Benny chuckled, moving his hand so he could caress your jaw with his thumb. “Ain't it obvious? I kissed ya".

“W-why?!” You choked out.

Benny found this version of you amusing and adorable. “Because I wanted too, I’ve wanted to for weeks now. But I've been afraid too".

You looked into Benny's eyes, trying to work out why he would be afraid. So you asked that question. Waiting with baited breath for his answer.

“I was worried ya didn't like me, like I like ya, doll” he said softly. “But seein’ your reaction to Angela" – so that's the raven vixens name, you thought – “I got my answer; ya do".

You titled your head, giving him a sharp look. “Yeah, well...you could be wrong".

Benny chuckled, running his thumb down your lips. Letting it linger, pulling down your bottom lip. “Oh, I know I'm right. And if I was to kiss ya again, I know for a fact, you’ll kiss me back, doll".

“Ha. Try me” you retorted, a challenge.

With a small smirk, Benny moved in and captured your lips once. This kiss was harder. His hand holding your chin, as his tongue swept along your bottom lip. Without a thought, you opened your mouth, giving him victory. Benny's tongue entered, finding your tongue and caressed it with his own. He didn't waste time deepening this kiss, both of you had wanting this for so long.

Eventually Benny pulled back, you chasing his lips. He laughed at how kiss drunk you were. The way you opened your eyes and looked up at him, had him wanting to groan from how good that looked on you. He continued to caress your jaw with him thumb, as he rested his head against your forehead.

“I was right” he sighed. “Firstly, jealously does look good on you” – you softly scoffed – “And secondly, I was right ya would kiss me back”.

“Yeah, yeah...” you mumbled.

Benny pulled back with a chuckle. “Come on, let's get out of here".

With that you let Benny pull you to his bike. Once he was on and the bike was running, Benny helped you on to sit behind him. Settled in and your arms around his waist, be pulled away from the curb. No intention to take you home yet. For now, he wanted to spend time with his girl. Time he didn't get earlier.

#benny cross x reader #benny cross x y/n #benny cross x you #the bikeriders x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 10 months

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Duty, Sacrifice

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (HotD) x f!twin reader Warnings: Incest, mentions of murder, knife play, dub con if you squint, smut. Word count: ~2.7k

Summary: Her and Aemond have always loved to play hide and seek, however, the night he returns from Storm's End, their game takes a much more sinister turn. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Aemond has always loved hide and seek. For as long as she can remember, her and her twin brother’s preferred way to pass the time is for her to hide while he searches for her. He has never been the hider, always naturally favouring the role of seeker. She does not mind. There is an exhilarating thrill in finding new places within the Red Keep to tuck herself into, listening out for the approaching sound of his footsteps. He always finds her. His eyesight and instincts must be sharper than hers, she reasons.

It is innocent enough when they are young children; holding her hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles as she presses her back against a pier of the Keep, squealing when Aemond grabs her as he shouts “found you!”

As they grow older he becomes more sullen, resentful of the attention that Jacaerys and Lucerys bestow upon her. He scowls as Jacaerys laughs and touches her arm as a pig is presented to him in place of a dragon.

“Ñuhor haedri renīs se nykēla avy ossēninna!” Aemond hisses angrily. Touch my sister and I'll kill you myself!

She knows it is a cruel trick for them to play upon him, her heart aches for her twin; her egg had hatched in their cradle, but his never had, leaving him dragonless. Regardless, she knows no good will come of his hateful attitude towards Rhaenyra’s children, and will only exacerbate their teasing of him.

“Aemond, you have a duty to our nephews, you must sacrifice your own pride and not say things like that!” She scolds.

He scoffs, shooting a derisive look towards Jacarys and Lucerys. “They cannot understand High Valyrian anyway, they are not true Targaryens, they are bastards.”

Later, Aemond receives a stern telling off from their mother for what he had said. “But they gave me a pig,” he retorts sulkily, “they all laughed!”

She hates seeing Aemond so miserable, shut away in his chambers, refusing to speak to anyone. With trepidation, she pushes his door open, not bothering to knock, she never does.

“Would you like to play a game?” She asks softly.

He nods. She already knows what he has in mind and runs away with a smile as he begins to count down from ten.

This time she hides beneath the small council table, yet as always, Aemond finds her almost instantly.

She does not giggle when his hands grip the tops of her arms, hard enough to bruise, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that causes icy fingers of fear to wrap around her heart.

“Found you,” he says with cool indifference. “You are mine, dōnus hāedus, do you understand? You are not to speak to those bastards ever again.” Sweet sister.

The overwhelming urge to cry forms a lump in her throat, but she nods anyway. Aemond is her world, and she would never do anything to hurt him.

His temperament becomes darker still when their mother reveals her plans to marry Aegon to Helaena. Their brother and sister are both visibly unhappy with the match, yet she knows it is a deliberate move to help secure Aegon’s claim to the throne. She suspects that her and Aemond will be married off to other houses, to strengthen alliances.

Aemond glowers as he watches Aegon and Helaena awkwardly attempt to interact. It is painful to witness, more than apparent that they have nothing in common beyond a shared lineage.

“If only mother had betrothed me to you,” Aemond mutters.

Her eyes go wide with shock. It is the first time she has ever heard her twin voice any desire for her. It causes a strange and unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant, warmth to spread throughout her.

“We have a duty to strengthen our brother’s claim to the throne,” she reminds Aemond gently, “we must sacrifice our own desires for the good of our family.”

He simply rolls his eyes.

Aemond sneaks up on her from behind that evening, as she hides from him behind a tall shelf of books in the library. His breath is hot as it fans across the back of her neck, his arms encircling her waist.

“Found you. Tell me it is I you wish to marry, dōnus hāedus,” he commands, nuzzling the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“It is you, only you, you know that.” Her words surprise herself as much as they do him, as they stare at each other wide eyed, too young to understand the feelings they inspire within each other. To her, Aemond is a prized toy that she wants for no one else to play with, and she suspects he feels a similar way about her.

She wails the night that Lucerys takes her twin brother’s eye. As the maester extracts the ruined organ from its socket it feels as though her heart is being torn asunder. Each prick of the needle that stitches up his ruined flesh brings with it a fresh wave of tears to her. His pain is her pain, and though he has now gained a dragon - the largest in the world - he has lost his eye.

It feels silly and selfish of her to worry about, but she wonders how they will ever play hide and seek again.

“I could be without both my eyes and I would still find you, dōnus hāedus,” Aemond reassures her. “It is not by sight that I search for you. Your heart is tied to mine, I will always find you.”

When he is healed, he proves her right, finding her huddled in the Godswood. She laughs earnestly at his “found you”, her heart feeling as though it may burst with joy. He is right, there is nothing that will keep him from her.

His seeing eye gazes adoringly into hers, as her fingertips delicately trace over the angry, red scar that runs the length of his cheek.

On their thirteenth name day, Aegon hurries Aemond away from the Red Keep in hushed secrecy. When they return hours later, the cloying scent of perfume sticks to Aemond’s clothes and he looks flushed and queasy.

“What did you do?” She asks, horrified, her stomach roiling in disgust.

“I didn’t want to,” is all he’s able to offer her.

This time when she hides, it is not part of a game, it is an attempt to be alone with her grief, to try to understand the bitter, acid jealousy that burns hotly in her chest. She crawls beneath the wooden frame of her bed, muffling her tears into the crook of her arm.

“Found you,” Aemond whispers sadly as he slides underneath the bed, laying on his belly next to her.

“Go away,” she cries piteously, turning to face him.

“Qrīdropēnna,” he says pleadingly, “I thought of nothing but you. Forgive me.” I am lost.

She gasps when he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, but quickly reciprocates. He is her other half, and she will forgive him anything.

Every game of hide and seek after that ends with them locked in a passionate embrace, though they are careful to never properly consummate their union, agreeing to wait until she has had her wedding night, so that her husband’s suspicion is not aroused by her lack of virtue.

She is proven right regarding the plans of her mother and grandfather to betroth her and Aemond to a lord and lady of differing houses, when they are paid a visit by a Lannister Lord. He is to be her husband in twelve moons’ time, she is told.

Dread forms a void in the pit of her stomach, her world feeling as though it is ending as the golden haired man sits opposite her, smiling at her with warmth and affection. It makes her feel nauseated, especially when she looks across to see her twin brother staring at him with hateful intent, the tip of his supper knife twisting forcefully into the wood of the tabletop.

Aemond finds her curled up in his armoire as he readies himself for bed that evening.

“Come out, dōnus hāedus,” he urges gently, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.

“I don’t want to marry him!” She sobs into his chest. “It isn’t fair!”

“‘Tis but a formality,” he tells her quietly, stroking her long, silver hair, “they will not keep you from me.”

“Do you promise?” She asks hopefully, looking up at him.

Aemond nods. “It is our duty, our sacrifice, but your heart will always be tied to mine.”

Their lives move as if in freefall after that. Their father passes away, and Aegon is quickly crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.

To win favour to his claim, Aemond is to be sent to Storm’s End with an offer of marriage to one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters.

She and Aemond stand miserably in front of each other, as he is about to mount Vhagar, his leather glove clad hands cup her cheeks.

“Do not make me go, dōnus hāedus,” he pleads, seeing eye wide with anguish, “I cannot marry a woman who is not you.”

Her heart twists painfully in her chest, clutching at his black riding coat. “‘Tis but a formality,” she reminds him, “our duty, our sacrifice, but your heart will always be tied to mine.”

“I will return to you as soon as I am able,” he promises, kissing her fiercely, before climbing into his saddle.

She watches with tears in her eyes as he flies away, taking half of her heart with him.

His return is much sooner than she had anticipated. Just a few nights later, she is startled by the door to her chambers being flung open, Aemond stands in her doorway, soaked through from the rain. He looks changed. His face is hardened, the look in his eye is stern, it makes her feel uneasy.

“Lēkia?” She asks worriedly, rising from her bed. “You are back so soon, what has happened?” Brother.

His eye sweeps over her, as if seeing her for the first time, and there is something in his gaze that frightens her, causing the skin beneath her thin, white nightgown to erupt into gooseflesh.

He is quiet for a moment, before he speaks, his voice low, void of affection. “Shall we play a game, dōnus hāedus?”

Her brow furrows in confusion, she shakes her head. “I do not think–”

“It was a rhetorical question,” he interrupts, and begins to count down from ten.

Her mouth falls open, her heart racing, not liking the hungry intent with which he stares at her, and so she runs, because she fears there is no other choice.

She has never felt afraid of her twin, not properly, but tonight is different, there is a dangerous aura that hangs over him like a stormcloud and she breathes heavily with exertion as her bare feet thud against the flagstone floor of Maegor’s Holdfast, the sound drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears.

What will he do when he catches me?

If she hides, she knows he will find her. He always does. So, she elects to keep moving, panic fluttering in her chest as she takes every turn available to her in the Keep, in a vain attempt to evade her brother.

A shiver runs down her spine as she hears him call out “kesīr mastan”, the scuff of his boots feeling unfairly close behind. How had he caught up so quickly? Here I come.

She hurries into an unoccupied chamber, one usually reserved for guests, attempting to close and bar the door behind her, but Aemond shoves it open.

His arms are around her in an instant, making her squeal with fright. “Found you,” he chuckles, though there is no humour in it.

“Let me go, Aemond,” she begs helplessly, “you are scaring me.”

He turns her to face him, backing her up towards the bed that occupies the space in the centre of the room. “Scaring you? How can that be, dōnus hāedus? I love you.”

“There…there is something different about you, lēkia. Something you aren’t telling me.”

He smirks, pushing her back onto the mattress as though she weighs nothing.

She falls back, propping herself up on her elbows, looking at him in wide eyed disbelief. He is like a cat toying with a mouse. He has never been this cruel, at least not to her.

She whimpers in fear as he unsheathes his dagger, twirling it expertly between dexterous fingers. “Please…please don’t.”

Aemond eyes her with keen curiosity. “You think I mean to hurt the person I cherish above all others?”

She swallows thickly, too preoccupied by the glint of the Valyrian steel in the moonlight that shines through the window to answer him.

“I could,” he muses, “I am a kinslayer after all. But I won’t, you are too precious to me.”

Kinslayer?!

There is little time to query his statement, as he brings the blade down upon the neckline of her nightgown, slicing it in half effortlessly. His eye roams over her bare figure appreciatively, a low hum rumbling in his throat.

Her chest rises and falls with rapidity as she stares up at him. Though her chest is tightened by fear, she cannot deny the way her pulse races at seeing Aemond’s pupil dilated with lust at the sight of her.

Carefully, slowly, he drags the tip of his blade over her clavicle, mindful not to apply enough pressure to break the skin. The cold steel makes her shiver as he pulls it downwards, circling one breast and then the other.

“I am going to claim you tonight, dōnus hāedus, put a silver haired babe in your belly. Would you like that?”

She inhales a shaky breath.

Yes.

“What of your betrothal?”

“Null and void,” he says matter of factly, trailing the dagger across her sternum and down towards her stomach.

“What…what happened?”

“Little Lord Lucerys Strong happened,” Aemond replies with mild irritation. “He arrived while I was there, to petition Borros Baratheon’s support for our whore of a half sister. It is an outrage that we should have to give up so much to defend our brother’s birthright, while that bastard flies about the realm attempting to steal it from him.”

“Oh gods, Aemond,” she whispers, bile rising in her throat, “what did you do?”

“What I ought to have done nearly ten years ago.”

She flops back against the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose as tears prick at her eyes. He does not need to say the exact words for her to know. Lucerys is dead, Aemond has killed him.

Aemond drops the dagger to the floor, the clatter echoing off of the vaulted ceiling. “Do not worry, dōnus hāedus, now we can be together. Is that not what you wanted?”

“Not like this,” she chokes out.

His hands drag a downwards path on her body, squeezing her curves as they go. “I am not so sure of that, look at how you respond to your brother.”

She mewls at the feeling of his hands upon her flesh, arching into his touch. In spite of herself, she is unable to resist the effect that her twin has upon her.

Aemond chuckles drily, unlacing his trousers and freeing his already hardened cock. Her breath catches in her throat as he swipes his fingers through the wetness that has gathered between her legs.

“See? Where is your duty now?” He asks mockingly, lining himself up with her entrance before pushing forcefully inside, making her cry out with the sting and stretch of his sudden intrusion. “Where is your sacrifice? Or is it not so important now that your brother has made your cunt all wet?”

He has the maddened look of a wild animal as he hovers over her, but she cannot deny him. Duty and sacrifice have died alongside their nephew, and her heart is tied irrevocably to Aemond’s. She can never hide from him, and any hope of her ever being able to do so was snuffed out the moment she allowed him to bury himself inside of her.

“Lēkys jorrāeliarzus,” she whispers. Dearest brother. “Aōhon iksan se ñuhon iksā,” he whispers back, beginning to thrust inside of her. I am yours and you are mine.

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midnight-coffee94 · 1 year

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Vibes Only tag game

Insert a photo that you already have in your gallery that best describes you. saw this in the "tag game" tag

Tagged by @beastofmoss :3 started a new chain bc the orignial was lonnggg

Tagging @idolsgf @ell-vellan @transprincecaspian and @vahingoniloinenlapsi if you'd like to do it :)

#this photo lives in my head rent free #also i used the phrase mcfucking losing it to my therapist and she was genuinely amused by it #tag game #icy does a tag game

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simplyraeblue · 16 days

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hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning always as I'm planning for this to come in parts

chapter warnings/tags: over the clothes touching, sexually explicit wording, sukuna teasing per usual, palm grinding, i'm slow burn cock blocking y'all so no heavy smut

index part four | part six

part five word count: 1,659

"Yuji, the cookies are almost ready!" you called out from the kitchen. Yuji got up from the couch and made his way to the bar, eyeing the finished cookies.

"does Nobara really need this many cookies?" he asked, reaching for one. you swiftly swatted his hand away.

"she’s sick! who doesn’t love homemade cookies when they're under the weather?" you pouted. you hoped she would appreciate them, considering the effort you put in. flour was still smeared on your face from a minor mishap with the mixer.

"shouldn’t you have made her some soup instead?"

"Megumi's taking care of the soup. you and I are on cookie duty," you said, pointing your spatula at him with mock severity. "or rather, I'm on cookie duty since I did all the work."

"hey, I'm delivering them!" Yuji protested, trying to sneak his hand towards the cookies again. you smacked it away once more.

"I’ve got a batch baking just for us, so cut it out." you handed him the tupperware overflowing with cookies. "now just make the delivery, errand boy."

Yuji saluted with a grin, taking the containers and heading out the door. you sighed, thinking that being friends with Yuji made you feel like a middle-aged mom.

as you were in the middle of cleaning the counters, you heard the front door open and shut.

"back already? what did you do, run supersonic?" you asked, surprised to see Yuji return so soon.

"what, did you miss me that much?" you heard a familiar voice, and you turned to see Sukuna grinning from ear to ear, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the fridge.

"Sukuna! didn’t expect you to be home until the crack of dawn," you joked, resuming your task of wiping down the counters.

"aww, someone been dreaming about me at night?" he teased, moving to peek into the oven.

"hey, those cookies aren’t for you," you warned as he started to open the still-warm oven. before you could stop him, he grabbed a cookie. "those are still hot, you idiot!"

you reached out to snatch the cookie from Sukuna's hand, but he held it high above his head, just out of your reach. a smirk danced on his lips as he wiggled the cookie teasingly. with a huff, you jumped to grab it, but he quickly moved it to his other hand.

what followed was a game of keep-away, with you practically trying to climb Sukuna to get the cookie while he skillfully kept it out of your grasp.

“c’mon, don’t be an ass.” you snarked, and he rolled his eyes, bringing the cookie down to your level. as you leaned in to grab it, he swiftly moved it away. again.

you did the first thing that came to mind and smacked his chest with both hands, but he didn’t flinch. Sukuna chuckled as he shoved half the cookie into his mouth, raising his eyebrows at you.

determined, you reached out to snatch the remaining cookie from his teeth. just before you could make contact, Sukuna’s hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you closer.

“what the hell do you want from me?” you snapped, though your blush betrayed your icy tone.

with one hand gripping your wrist, Sukuna used his other hand to pull the now slobbery cookie from his mouth. “give me a kiss, and I'll share,” he said with a sly grin.

“w-what?” you stammered, your eyes widening in disbelief. “why would i do that?”

“you fought so hard for this one cookie,” he said, gesturing at the sweet in his hand. “but there’s more in the oven. why go to such lengths for something so small?”

“I wasn’t... don’t be rude,” you replied, your breath catching. okay, maybe you hadn’t needed to touch him as much as you did during the struggle, but you couldn’t deny that it felt good.

“just speaking the truth,” Sukuna said, pulling you closer. “what, scared to give me a little sugar?”

“no.” lies.

“then go ahead, and you’ll get some of my treat.” he seemed to be reveling in the way he was making you blush, enjoying every moment of your embarrassment.

“fine,” you said, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. what you didn’t expect was for him to turn his face at the last second, catching your lips with his. a jolt of shock and electricity surged through you, both of you locking eyes in surprise. you were the first to pull away, your face burning red, and your breath almost completely halted. “what the hell was that?”

“I said a kiss, not whatever chicken shit that was,” Sukuna shrugged, breaking the cookie in half and offering you a piece.

no matter how hard you tried, your hand wouldn’t move to take the cookie. you stood frozen, staring at him in surprise.

“aww, did I break your brain?” Sukuna teased, tapping his finger against the side of your head. “can’t say I'm not surprised that was all it took. must be pretty empty in there.”

your lips pressed into a thin line, and you slapped his arm harder than you ever had before. “you’re such an absolute dickwad,” you snapped, delivering a second slap.

as you went for a third, Sukuna grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “I wouldn’t suggest you do that again,” he said in a low, serious tone.

“why, what are you gonna about it?” you shot back, your brows furrowed in anger. “are you going to hit a girl?”

you half-expected him to give you a light shove, knowing him. instead of the physical contact you anticipated, Sukuna’s hands moved to your waist and lifted you with ease, setting you down on the counter and grabbing your arms roughly.

before you could protest, Sukuna’s lips crashed into yours. it was the exact opposite of what you’d expected, sending shivers down your spine.

“this is what you get for teasing me, brat,” Sukuna murmured against your lips. you sucked in a breath.

god, you were still so annoyed with him, but the burning sensation spreading through your body was different from your frustration. his lips felt incredibly good against yours, almost as if they encapsulated yours.

when his hands moved from your arms and gripped your hips, you embarrassingly let a moan slip past your lips.

“ah, there it is.” you could feel him smirk before his tongue darted into your mouth. almost instinctively, your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him in deeper.

the younger you that developed a crush on him was practically pumping her fist into the air in victory right now.

you pulled away for a moment, catching your breath and telling him, “’m still annoyed with you.”

“but is it getting better?” Sukuna gave you a lopsided smile, raising an eyebrow at your flushed expression.

you didn’t want to answer, so instead you tugged him back into you, frustrated in more ways than one. with the amount of feelings surging through you, you nipped at his bottom lip a little too aggressively.

while your mouths were a mess of tongues and pants, you fisted Sukuna’s hair in your hands and his own moved to grab your knees and push them apart.

a shock split through you when you felt him palm your core through your pants. “Sukuna...” you moaned his name, already feeling intoxicated from his touch.

“been wanting t’ see how innocent you were since the day you moved in.” Sukuna murmured, his hand rubbing against your heat harder. faster. deliberately driving you insane.

“is this all you’re gonna do to figure that out?” you teased, panting into his neck at the friction his palm was creating on your clothed clit.

“wanna find out?” he dared, and you nodded weakly.

you were fully prepared to make a mess on the kitchen counter, impatiently waiting for him to make a fool out of you, even if it was a one and done thing. if it was just a point he wanted to prove you didn’t give a fuck.

as the desire burned hotter within you, ready for him to remove every bit of your clothes... you heard a set of keys in the door.

you quickly pushed Sukuna away, earning a chuckle from him, then jumped down from the counter and straightened your clothes. it had to be Yuji, you reminded yourself. you needed to look like you weren’t just grinding on his brother’s hand right in the kitchen.

Sukuna leaned casually against the counter opposite you, watching as you scrambled to grab your discarded cleaning spray just as Yuji walked in.

“Nobara was really grateful for the cookies. and if she says a few went missing, she’s lying,” Yuji said, shutting the door behind him. his gaze quickly shifted to you cleaning, with Sukuna watching from across the room.

“the other cookies just came out of the oven,” you said, your voice coming out hurried and a bit strange.

“bro, are you bothering y/n?” Yuji asked, giving Sukuna a disapproving look.

without even glancing at him, Sukuna replied with a smirk, “yeah, I was bothering her real bad.”

you choked on your own breath, coughing and blaming it on the cleaner fumes. “both of you. out of the kitchen. now,” you seethed, trying to hide the blush on your face as you ushered them both out.

left alone with your own thoughts, you knew Sukuna just had to be doing that to get a rise out of you (which he did of course). he’d known about your crush, you told yourself, that was it.

you tried to brush it off, chalking it up to him being a dick and wanting to embarrass you. but... what he’d said about wanting to do that since you moved in stuck with you.

no. no Sukuna wouldn’t ever look at you that way. even if you so wished he would.

fuck, you needed a cold shower—stat.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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prophecyofwinter · 27 days

Text

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | VI

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, Terrible Sibling Dynamics, Fluff tags to be added

Special warnings | Violence against women, Incel-like behavior, descriptions of injuries

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Notes | I have put up a poll to get readers feel for a certain story direction, please give it a quick vote! Poll here

Prologue | Chapter V | | Chapter VII Masterlist

Chapter VI | Love Thy Sister

“What do you think of her?” Alicent asks her son, looking up at him from her cushioned seat. Alicent hoped by telling Aemond to take the girl for a walk she’d feel welcome enough for the time being. Even though she is legitimized as a Targaryen, she can leave at any time. If she does not feel welcome, she may take herself and her titles back to Volantis. Back to the whore house her mother is from and disgrace the Targaryen name just as her mother did, and the blame would be put on Alicent.

“I suppose she is a good conversationalist… as beautiful as they say her mother is.” Aemond looks down at her, he rubs his hand along his jaw. Aemond knows his duty that was forced upon him, Alicent does not doubt this.

However, she has influenced him to have a greater distaste for bastards. Of course, she doesn’t expect nor want Aemond to put his biases to the side, but for the safety of the Targaryen name he must learn to push it down for her.

“Continue to keep her happy, if you wander-“

“I am not Aegon if that’s what you are implying.” Aemond interrupts her with one of his quips. Alicent rubs her temples with a sigh, in her mind she knows Aemond would never do such a thing, but you can never be fully sure with young men. Aemond places his hand on Alicents shoulder, bringing her out of thought and she looks back up at her son.

“She knows what she is and I can deal with that.”

—————

The sun has sunk below the horizon and you stand with your hands gripping the stone of your balcony. The light breeze pushes your loose hair to the side, tickling your cheeks.

The past 5 days have been repeating each other, waking up, fitting into tight clothes that you still can’t get used to, breaking your fast alone, taking brisk walks through the gardens; you’ve taken to needlework to fill up your time, still not good at it. Ending your days eating dinner with Vaegon, he insists on sitting next to you instead of on the other side of the table, you’ve gotten tired of telling him otherwise.

Your only real interactions have been with Aegon, he manages to find you in the gardens every day. It has become routine at this point. Small conversations where he stands a little too close and rests his hand on your lower back. Your brother was fuming behind the two of you, but alas there was nothing he could do.

Perhaps Aegon simply got a kick out of your brother's reaction; in that case, you don’t mind at all.

Aemond hadn't bothered to even acknowledge your existence. You haven't seen him, heard him, smelled him, tasted him, touched him. All your senses are absent of him!

Your head had been so full of ideal situations, that you didn’t consider living an isolated life in a foreign land! You had to push down girlish thoughts and take charge for yourself!

“Are you done with your childish games sister?”

You were knocked out of your thoughts by Vaegon resting his armor-covered hands on the back of your shoulders. You tensed up at the contact, your stomach instantly became uneasy.

“Your fantasies didn’t work out. No prince to whisk you off your feet as we pretended when we were children. Only a maimed icy boy who doesn’t love you.” He begins to gently massage your shoulders. Disgust rises on your face with your fists so tight your nails may draw blood.

“And you do?” You do not turn to look at him, simply at the night sky.

“More than that freak could.” He laughs resting his chin on your shoulders and moves his hands to caress your arms. This pushed you far over the line. You turned around and pushed him back with full force, it didn’t do much but push him a foot back. Frustrated at this failed attempt you slap him making sure to claw his skin with your nails.

You hadn’t meant to dig that deep. Vaegons scream was in true carnal pain, he held his cheek with blood flowing from between his fingers. You had scarred him from cheekbone to chin. You looked down to your hand and you could see the skin you tore off beneath your nails. You looked back at him in shock, your mouth went dry as you couldn’t think of any words to say.

“You fucking cunt!”

You saw your brother's eyes turn from purple to black as he ran to grip your neck with both hands, knocking the wind out of you. He was crushing your throat and his hand armor was cutting deeply.

“Va-vaegon plea-“ you begin to claw at his hands as you choke out words.

“I will not come second to some pompous cunt! I have worked all my life to prove myself worthy of you! Yet you whore yourself out to the first cock that fills your self serving cunt.” He shook you around with gritted teeth, not seeming to care about the sting and blood from his cheek. “You stand there and mock me in the gardens and let that whore of a Prince touch you, am I the only one you won’t fuck?!”

Black spots started to form in your vision, he was trying to strangle you to death, and you could see it in his eyes.

You whisper something weakly enough that he cannot make out. He leans in hopes of hearing words of submission to feed his sick fantasies.

You gargle up the saliva that you cannot swallow and spit directly into his ear. He instantly jumps back and pushes you away. He falls on his ass getting away from you. You erupt in laughter even when your spine makes contact with the stone balcony you laugh through the pain.

Vaegon is at a loss for words, tears start to form and threaten to fall down his face. Humiliation is all over his face, you have permanently scarred his face. Maimed him as he laughed at Aemond for being. This scar was not gained honorably, not in a battle, not because he was punished, not from protecting a damsel in distress. He gained nothing from it.

He let a woman, his sister, swipe him so brutally. It made him even less of a man in the eyes of everyone.

No mother to comfort him, not even a whore to console him, the only person he had was his sister who was looking down on him.

Laughing at him.

Your laughter died down, small giggles escaping your lips still. The lack of air to your head and raw adrenaline diluted the pain you should be feeling at the moment. You walked over to your brother, looking down at him as he looked down at you moments ago with his hands on your throat.

“I am greater than you now brother, you are still a bastard. I could have you hung and spiked on the walls. However, it breaks my heart to see you like this.” You say softly with a joking tone. Vaegon continues looking up at you with a rage behind his eyes.

“If it would serve as compensation. You can have the privilege of standing guard at mine and Prince Aemonds marital chambers on our wedding night. As a parting gift.”

Vaegon instantly stands on his feet and scoffs with a baffled expression. Suddenly, the weight of his crimes against a noble hit him hard, and he rushed out of the room to escape to who knows where.

You stood there for a few moments, absorbing your grand victory. You didn’t care where he ran, who he ran to, what he was going to do after running. Your breath was heavy and your lungs began to feel like they were struggling to take air in.

Just as your adrenaline calmed down it rose back up with anxiety. You rushed over to your mirror and looked at your neck to see bruises already forming and where his armor had cut your neck. How could you explain this? Someone will see your bruises and see Vaegons cheek and put it together.

You hadn’t noticed the tears running down your face until you looked in the mirror, you looked in disarray.

The pain started to shock through your body, finally registering the violence Vaegon put onto you.

Your throat felt like it was closing up, the pressure from your corset made the rising bruise on your lower back hurt so badly you feared you might empty your stomach on the floor.

You saw the blood trail on the floor and your eyes moved over to the balcony and there was a small pool of blood in plain sight. You looked around your chambers for anything to clean it up. You froze by the sound of knocking at your door followed by your door opening.

You hear the sound of crashing and liquid splashing on the floor. Someone rushed to your side who you recognized to be Mela. She knelt by your sitting form and held your arms gently.

“Princess! What happened?! Who hurt you?!” Mela attempted to talk calmly but the urgency of the moment raised her tone.

You don’t know what happened, all of a sudden everything came crashing down onto you. You were crying so hard you couldn’t form any words, your throat and neck hurt even worse with all your heavy breathing. Stuttering out incoherent and unfinished sentences with hand gestures that meant nothing.

Mela stood and held you close to your chest like a mother would, and you held onto her arms and cried. She yelled something at Ellyn and the girl rushed out of the room, the door left wide open potentially for anyone to see. The pain of being manhandled by Vaegon started seeping in and all of a sudden your whole body started hurting, you couldn’t tell where it was coming from; you only knew it hurt.

“Shhhh, Let me see Princess.”

Mela lifted your chin and gasped at the state of your neck. She lightly touched one of the fresh bruises, even the lightest touch made you whimper and flinch away. You couldn’t breathe without pain shocking through your body which made you cry more so tears never stopped streaming down your face.

A barrage of footsteps approaches the open door to see Mela holding your sobbing body. Immediately a maester is by your side, gently pushing Mela away to see your injuries. You close your eyes to think the pain away, and a few gasps follow when your neck becomes exposed.

“Gods be good, who did this Princess?” The Maester touched around your neck to examine the damage. You couldn’t think, the feeling of eyes on you, the pain in your neck, the pain in your lower back tightened by a corset.

You claw at the back of your dress just wanting to tear it off. Mela stops your hands to pull you onto your feet, your groans of pain don’t stop her at all. Ellyn moves behind you to loosen the layers of your dress. You let out a deep sigh of relief when your corset is removed and your body almost fully collapses into Mela.

Your lower back is revealed with the removal of the corset and you hear gasps of sympathy from the other maids in the room. Mela has you against her in a way that your breasts aren’t revealed to keep some form of modesty, even if it’s just maids and a maester.

“Gods… what has happened here?!” Alicents voice sounded through the room, her voice painted with concern.

“I’m not sure my Queen, she’s in too much pain. She won't speak.” The Maester said without turning to Alicent still looking around at the newly discovered bruise. The Maester leaves the room to hopefully get some kind of ointment or cream to soothe you.

You looked up at Alicent and she looked down at you, biting at the skin of her thumb.

The small part of you that isn’t in pain feels humiliated, this was your triumphant moment over your brother. But here you are, crying so hard you can’t speak, naked from the waist up, multiple people gawking at your injured limp body. You can barely even listen to the people around you, blood is pumping through your ears.

A nightgown comes over your head and you move your arms slowly to fill the armholes. By the feeling of the fabric you can tell it’s not one from Westeros, it’s one of your own from Volantis. With these, your back could remain open instead of being rubbed with cloth. You watch Alicent move her hand to caress your hair gently, looking at you with an expression you can’t make out. Sympathy? Pity?

Alicent leans down and murmurs something to you.

“Was this Aemond?”

You shake your head no and the queen lets out a sigh of relief and does one wipe of your cheek with her thumb. You made an earnest attempt to squeeze out any sound through your tightening throat.

“Vaegon-“ you pointed to the blood near the balcony, the hand you pointed with still had his blood and skin on your fingers.

“Where is her brother? Find him!” Alicents voice rises to yell at the guards nearby. She leaves the room with haste to go off to who knows where.

You are guided onto a couch deeper into your chambers to allow room for a maid with water and cloth to gently dab your neck. You try your best to contain your whimpers to not humiliate yourself further. Another maid grabs your hand with a wet cloth and cleans the hand you scarred Vaegon with.

After some time the Maester reentered the room with a jar of some kind of ointment. You hope the cream provides some instant comfort, anything to relieve your aches. Tears still streaked down your face, the pain still ever persistent, but you held your whimpers down still.

“Alright Princess, I’ve retrieved an ointment made of arnica. It should help with the aches and inflammation.” The Maester hands the ointment to Ellyn, she quickly replaces the maid behind you. You move your hair away to expose your neck.

Everyone besides Ellyn begins to make their leave to give you privacy now that their duty is done. You close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief when Ellyn starts to gently rub the bruised area on the back of your neck. However your eyes don’t stay closed for long; as the door opens for everyone to make their leave, a soft ‘My Prince’ in unison makes your eyes instantly open.

Aemond enters the room with long strides, passing by servants without care. He was wearing his normal black leather, eyepatch, and sword still at his side. Ellyn stopped applying the ointment to stand up, and give a small bow to Aemond with a customary ‘my Prince’.

“Mm. Give it here.” Aemond holds out his hand to be given the ointment. He scans the room to see the blood has not yet been cleaned up.

“Clean that up and make your leave.” He hums, Ellyn quickly hands him the jar and grabs a cloth.

“Aemond...” You whisper to not force your voice. You jump at the feeling of Aemonds ungloved fingers applying ointment to the back of your neck. Aemonds touch struggles to be gentle, his hands are roughly textured, and you can tell he hasn’t had to be gentle with much before.

“I caught him.” He said in a normal tone. You look to the side, your eye area red and cheeks still wet from your never-ending crying. A look of confusion grazed your face under your pained expression.

“I walk in the gardens at night. I heard him yelling, I saw him push you. I figured he would run.” Aemonds fingers moved to the side of your neck that was exposed to him.

“Do not take it as much. A bastard boy attacked a…Targaryen. A high crime, it was simply duty.” He talks like he doesn’t care, truly unreadable... Almost like the hardened guards that are on duty in front of the black wall in Volantis, but not quite that extreme.

But here he sits, doing his best to gently rub in ointment into the bruised necklace painted into your skin. You can’t help but give him a slight smile, Aemonds eye flickers up and moves right back down.

Without being able to speak more than a word or two, you and Aemond sit in silence. Even when he turns you around to get the front of your throat.

You got the opportunity to look at his face closer than you ever had. Your eyes traced his red scar, your sight stopped by his eyepatch but it continued below; on down to his sharp strong nose which huffed out deep breaths occasionally; to his pink lips, straightened in focus. Of course, his most important features to you, his one good eye, a beautiful shade of purple, pointed down looking at your neck and ever so often flicked further down when he needed to get more from the jar. His platinum white hair was tucked behind his ears so he didn’t get any in his face while leaning down.

This wouldn’t last. You knew that. Soon he would remember reality and pull back once again.

“Turn back around, I have to get your back.”

Your view of Aemond is torn away by his hands twirling you back around. He makes a ‘mmm’ sound and rubs the excess on his fingers on the middle of your open back. Leaving you rather confused until he speaks.

“Your lower back is covered by your nightgown. I have to pull it down.”

You jump a little at the idea of being almost fully naked in front of him, even though the sheer fabric of your nightgown left nothing to the imagination and left most of your skin open to the air. It’s the implication of it all.

“Gods, Calm down. I will only be seeing your back, nothing I won’t see soon enough.”

Aemond pulls at the sleeves of your nightgown and slides it down as low as it can go as you are sitting down. Even though he is behind you and can’t see your breasts you feel the need to cover them with your arms, but you resist.

Aemond starts to apply ointment once again, he presses a little too hard and a gasp gets caught in your throat, and flinch away. Aemond grasps your hips to still you and bring you back.

“I’m sorry. Let me try again.”

You nod and hope that he’s more gentle this time. This bruise was a single large long bruise straight across your lower back so it made it harder to comfortably touch it at all. He was as gentle as he could be, it would hurt regardless.

You had to make it through the pain yourself. Focusing on making the pain go away in your head. The first thought that came to your head was how intimate this position felt compared to the others. The lower back felt like one of the more intimate locations to touch between two people. Yes, Aegon touches you there occasionally but you only allowed that because you knew Vaegon was looking.

Aemond doing it felt different. Even if it was just him helping you. His touch brought pain with it but it still somehow got a shiver up your spine that was pleasant in its own way.

He applied the ointment rather quickly, you snapped out of your thoughts when he began to bring your nightgown back up your body and you slipped your arms through the strapped sleeves.

“You should sleep soon, you will heal faster,” Aemond spoke, rubbing your arms from the back. You froze when you felt his breath on the back of where your neck met your shoulder. Your heart starts beating fast as you can almost feel his lips disrupt the peach fuzz on your skin.

Suddenly seconds later Aemond abruptly pulls away physically and emotionally, just as he did before. He stands and briskly walks to your chamber door, on his way he taps onto a table to put your attention to a goblet and pitcher.

“Should aid with sleep.”

You didn’t even get a chance to process anything. You swore you still felt his touch on your skin, it made you shiver. Aemond shut the door all but gently, leaving you alone with yourself. You sighed at the loss of touch and Aemond ran off once again.

You wouldn’t see Aemond for a few days once again.

You pushed yourself up onto your feet with a sharp pain. The ointment helped but it didn’t help with sudden movements. You hobbled over to the table Aemond gestured to. You studied it briefly before pouring the substance into the goblet. It was a cloudy blue color, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You reluctantly took a sip, your body wanted to reject it instantly. It tasted extremely bitter with an undertone of honey. It must’ve been put there for a reason so you at least finish the cup.

Not being able to drink anymore you blow out the bigger lights in your chambers, leaving the smaller ones still lit. You started to feel drowsy, deciding to commit to lying down. Getting under the covers trying to get comfortable, you decided it was too hot under them and pushed them to the side to only cover part of your body. You found a single position that didn’t put extreme pressure on your bruises and instantly fell to sleep.

—————

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baby-yongbok · 1 year

Text

My Savior?

Yandere!Hyunjin x Sadodere!BangChan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, non idol

Warnings: Yandere, Manipulation, Jealousy, swearing, Stalking, obsession, mentions of murder, physical abuse (towards reader), threats (towards reader), description of injuries, possessiveness, gaslighting. If any of these tags trigger you than PLEASE do not read or continue with caution! (Sorry if I missed any tags)

✨Masterlist ✨

Word Count: 1922

Note: Hyunjin and Third Person POV

Summary: You and Hyunjin go way back. You've know each other since your senior year of university and your friendship meant a lot to eachother, you just didn't know that it still meant a lot to Hyunjin. He values you as more than a friend and your boyfriend Chan is anything but happy about that. Chan plans to let you know just how unhappy he is with you trying to rekindle your friendship with Hyunjin but when things get heated a certain someone is there to 'save the day'.

Hyunjin's POV

There she goes again, switching those fucking hips so hard. She clearly likes the attention it brings her, the men around her breaking their necks to get a better look at her beautiful --

" Hyunjin?" Fuck, she saw me. I was going to try to surprise her.

"Y/n, hey." I've been practicing my surprised face for a moment like this one. It's pretty hard to be 'surprised' to see someone that you see everyday. "What are you doing out here? Don't you live across town?"

"You know I can't resist Ron's coffee, what about you? It's been forever since I've seen you, where have you been?" To answer your question, yes, I do know that you can't resist the coffee here. You've been coming to this cafe every Saturday and Wednesday after yoga class since our senior year of college. I'm honestly surprised that you stuck with Yoga for two whole years. You've always been bad at committing to things.

"Oh, you know, I've been around. Been doing a little bit of everything, a lot of freelancing."

"That sounds great, I know it can be a bit challenging for photographers to make a living out here but you're so talented I know that you'll find a permanent spot soon." She's smiling, so I can't help but to do the same. She's so cute and foolish. I'll never settle at one job, I need to be close to her. I made a promise never to be more than two miles from her at all times just in case--.

"Y/n." Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. No, no, no. Not him, what the fuck is he doing here.

"Chan, hey, I thought you'd never show up. This is Hyunjin, we went to Uni together. Hyunjin, this is my boyfriend Chan." Oh, I know who he is, Bang Christopher Chan, twenty-five years old, born October third which makes him a libra. I could go on and on about your cute little scumbag here.

"Nice to meet you." I offer my hand to him and his icy stare meets my burning one. He doesn't budge, you can barely tell that he's breathing. You wanna be a tough guy? Two can play that game.

"Chan" Y/n nudges him in his side and he serves her a disapproving glare. Running my hand through my hair I smile over at y/n.

"It's fine, some people have a hard time containing their jealousy when they're around me."

"Come on, y/n, we'll be late." Late? You don't have anywhere to be. She would've put it in her Google Calendar.

"Uh, right. Well um, Hyunjin it was awesome seeing you. Text me sometime." He grips the back of her neck and guides her past me just as she went in for a hug. I'd be lying if I said it didn't take everything in me not to snatch her from him. She doesn't need someone like him, always so cold towards her. Does he even have a heart? How could you not smile at the sight of her short curly hair, her bright eyes and crooked smile. How could you resist such a ravishing woman? It takes everything in me not to step out of her closet in the mornings and fuck her right over her desk.

Before I could say my goodbye the cafe door closed behind them and Chan looked back at me with a smirk. My jaw clenched at the sight, he thinks he's got her. He thinks he can take her from me, he thinks this is goodbye. It is far from goodbye, it's see you later. Maybe, tonight.

Third person POV

"Why would you tell him to text you later?" The echo of Chan slamming his car keys down on the table in the main hallway echoed through the quiet apartment. Y/n trailed in behind him, annoyance evident in her eyes and tone.

"I told you a thousand times, I was being kind. Hyunjin and I haven't seen each other in a year and a half. We were best friends and I've missed him." That's all she had to say to trigger him, he turned swiftly, caging her body against the hallway wall with his arms on either side of her body. He leaned down to her, inches away from her face and snarled.

"You what?"

"I- I said that.. I missed.. him." A smirk plays upon Chan's lips, it deepens into a smile as he processes what she just had the nerve to tell him.

"You shouldn't say things that you don't mean, Y/n. That makes you a liar and no love of mine is going to be a liar. You do not miss him." A stiff laugh spills from Chan's lips causing y/n to shiver and squeeze her eyes shut. She knew that Chan could get jealous to say the least but he's never come off this… Intense. "Listen, baby, I don't want you talking to him okay? I think that's a simple request and I expect you to follow it. Am I clear?"

The silence that followed Chan's question seemed to worsen the situation almost instantly, slamming his hands against the wall he inches closer to her until they are practically sharing the same breath. "Am I fucking clear, y/n?"

"Yes." Her answer is firm and rushed, it's also a lie. She knew that if Hyunjin were to message her, she'd answer. How could she not? Their friendship goes so far back it would just be rude to ignore him.

"Good, pet." Backing away from her Chan turns his attention towards the living room. "I'm Ordering thai, I'll get your usual "

Y/n stood there, shaken and silent as she watched Chan walk away. Little did she know that Hyunjin had seen the whole thing, it was moments like these that he was thankful for installing those nano-cameras a year ago. It was times like these that Hyunjin was tempted to burst through the front door and save her from him, but he knew he had to wait just a little longer.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

"Who's that?" Y/n's phone chime triggered Chan to speak for the first time in almost two hours. The two had been sitting in the living room in silence flipping through channels until they came across a Criminal Minds marathon. Pressing her home button, y/n checks her phone then shrugs her shoulders seconds after.

"Just an Instagram notification. " Her gaze settles back onto the TV screen but Chan's is fixed on her.

"Are you sure about that?" Y/n's eyes quickly meet Chan's before she averts her gaze to his chest.

"Yes, Chris, I am sure." Her tone, that's what did it. That's what got him started, what caused the corners of his lips to curve into a cynical smile. The violent exhale that followed caused y/n to squirm in her seat a bit, fear bubbling in her stomach.

"I thought I just told you..." Lifting himself and swiftly leaning over y/n like a shadow, Chan grasps the front of her neck and pushes her head back slightly cutting off her air supply. "I don't fucking like liars, and yet, here we are.

The small gasps that y/n managed to let out filled the room along with the noise of a car commercial on the TV. Chan's eyes bore into hers like he was searching for something he hasn't been able to find for years. Like he was waiting for her to look the least bit sorry. Releasing his grip on her neck he swings his arm and the back of his hand sweeps across her cheek harshly causing y/n to shift in her seat. Grabbing a handful of hair he pulls her head back to look him in the eyes and his disturbing yet amused face has shifted to an icy stare.

"How many times am I going to have to telling you the same fucking thing?" His voice was calm yet bitter. "Do I have to beat it into you? Maybe fuck you into submission? Solitary confinement, maybe."

Y/n's heart was beating at nearly a million beats per second but that was nothing compared to Hyunjin's. The sound of Chan's words rang through his head like a church bell. Today was the day that he had to go and save her. Before he knew it he was out of his car and across the street. The sound of y/n whimpering spilled from the cracked window and he used that as his green light. It was almost like he could hear her calling his name in each cry.

Using his copy of the key that he made, Hyunjin busted into the apartment closing the door behind him and rushing to the living to find a half dressed y/n with red marks in a uniform pattern down her back. Her tear littered face turned to look up at him and he felt his heart flutter and sink all at once.

"What the fuck are --" before Chan could finish his sentence Hyunjin had charged at him. Hands balled into fists and ready to fire. Pinning Chan to the ground, Hyunjin had the upper hand for a while. Landing punches in places that were sure to bruise later and remind Chan of this day, this moment.

"What the…" Y/n's voice trailed off into a whisper of silence as she crawled away from the altercation scrambling to her feet. She watched, confused and in pain from the punishment that Chan administered seconds ago.

Chan managed to push Hyunjin off of him and land a strong punch to his nose. The two scrambled to stand and stood across from each other, smirking.

"How fucking dare you touch her like that." All Chan did was chuckle darkly and shake his head slightly.

"I was wondering what it would take for you to come out of hiding." Hyunjin's eyes widened, he knew?

"Now what? Gonna save the day? Take her from me and run away to the land of butterflies and rainbows? " Chan glares at Hyunjin with a cocky grin as he wipes the blood from his nose.

"You don't deserve her, it's me that she needs. I'd never harm her, that's all you seem to know how to fucking do." Chan claps sarcastically causing Hyunjin to snarl aggressively.

"How sweet, but you're missing one key piece…" taking a step closer to Hyunjin, Chan sticks his hands in his pockets. "I'm not letting her go. She's mine, she belongs to me. I won her before you did and I don't plan on letting her go anytime--"

"I'll take her from you, I know her better. I can love her better than you ever imagined you could. " Turning around to face a frightened y/n, Hyunjin smiles. "Baby, let me finally take care of you… I've been here everyday since senior year waiting for you."

"W- what do you mean everyday? You've been.. in my house?" Y/n's visible trembling breaks Hyunjin's heart but he's too far past his capacity of emotional vulnerability to aid her at the moment.

"Of course, Darling, I've been here all along. Watching you sleep, eat, and get hurt by this monster. Now is finally my chance to protect you from him. I'll do whatever I have to do to get you away from him."

"Kill me, that's what you'd have to do. And even then I'd find a way." Hyunjin and Chan stare at each other almost as if it's a game and y/n is the prize.

"Murder, eh? I can do that."

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moonswolfie · 1 year

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Thawing out an icy heart

An AU where our omi is an ice skater anyone?😭 (someone said that they like this format in my reblogs so here i am)

@melonnmiru just tagging you since i thought it would be the right thing to do

also suuuper random but I downloaded neko atsume again after YEARS, it feels weird to actually understand what the title means because I've known that game since I was like 6😭

Ice skater!Sakusa who dutifully attends practice after school and even stays late sometimes to be extra sure he's practiced a jump well enough

Ice skater!Sakusa who often gets crushed on by fangirls only for the crush to fizzle out as soon as they attempt talking to him because they're put off by his personality

Ice skater!Sakusa who's preformance keeps getting reccomended to you on Youtube so you eventually give up and watch it

Ice skater!Sakusa who you're entranced by and suddenly want to know more about

Ice skater!Sakusa who you recognise as a boy in your class from the two moles on his forehead the next day

Ice skater!Sakusa who sighs when he sees you (yet another admirer) watching him from afar since he finds them to be bothersome

Ice skater!Sakusa who you keep wanting to approach in order to compliment his preformance but always get scared off by his scary looking scowl

Ice skater!Sakusa who ends up being paired with you for a class project, giving you a perfect segue to get to know him and giving him a (seemingly) annoying fan to deal with for a month

Ice skater!Sakusa who is very pleasantly surprised by the amount of knowledge you have on ice skating once you start talkingb(you totally did not do tons of research just so you can impress him)

Ice skater!Sakusa who gets wary of you because you're suspiciously fun to talk to, even if it's something that doesn't personally interest him

Ice skater!Sakusa who you cement your feelings for during the project and keep talking to even after the project is done

Ice skater!Sakusa who is oddly distracted by thoughts of you at practice, so much so that he misses a jump he usually always gets and his coach becomes worried for him

Ice skater!Sakusa who desperately wants to deny that he's falling for you since relationships are a hassle for him (and he's got routines to practice for his tournament, no time for dates😤)

Ice skater!Sakusa who freaks out internally (and blushes externally) when you show up to his practice unnanounced one day, which doesn't go unnoticed by his coach

Ice skater!Sakusa who gets handed the theme of "first love" for his free program with no negotiation allowed

Ice skater!Sakusa who mentions attending a tournament soon and is not surprised at all when you invite yourself to it with an annoyingly adorable smile

Ice skater!Sakusa who practices the free program vigorously as always but the coach laments that "he looks like he's supressing feelings of first love and not expressing them" and that makes him go red for just a second

Ice skater!Sakusa who sees you waving to him in the crowd as he skates onto the ice on the day of the tournament

Ice skater!Sakusa who didn't really plan on it, but his feelings for you started showing themselves through his preformance, the coach smiling to himself when he noticed

Ice skater!Sakusa who finally decides to admit to himself then and there that he's in love with you and finally understands what the coach meant with "you have to express love". He dedicates his heart, his soul, his every move in this preformance to you and only you

Ice skater!Sakusa who ends the preformance, booming applause echoing through the stadium and roses from fangirls falling onto the ice, but at this moment, your cheers were the only ones which mattered to him

Ice skater!Sakusa who acts like he usually does after, listening to you talk about how much you loved the preformance with a small smile under his mask as if he didn't just make a passionate confession through ice skating

Ice skater!Sakusa who can't help but wonder if his coach picked the theme "first love" on purpouse...

#˗ˏˋ ★ ☁︎ 「Wolfie’s works」 ☾ ★ ˎˊ˗#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa fluff #sakusa imagines #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 4 months

Text

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 17: Unearthed

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

The air is stagnant, damp, and smells heavily of earthy soil. Your eyes creep open, only to find a darkness so impenetrable that you blink to make sure your eyes are indeed open. Your body is gripped by a sharp agony. Every muscle enflames with icy blistering that somehow feels like you’re on fire and freezing simultaneously.

You contort and twist in abject anguish as you jerk and writhe unnaturally. Your frame tries to collapse in on itself. Your knees, shoulders, and forehead thunk off of an unseen barrier with every concurrent wave of your ligaments and tendons contracting so vehemently, it's a wonder they don’t snap like overwrought twine.

This torture blanks out your ability to think. Everlasting pain and darkness are all you have ever known and will ever know forevermore.

When you’re sure your body is going to rip itself apart, and you can take no more, the throes subside. You’re gasping like a fish out of water, trying desperately to fill your lungs with precious air, but there is no reprieve. It doesn’t matter how much breath you draw; you cannot fill the void in your chest cavity.

You sag forward, your nose and forehead bouncing off the rigid blackness. A new feeling emerges — panic — and you toss your body around only for your shoulders, back, feet, and knees to smack against the invisible obstruction lurking in the gloom.

You are walled off on all sides. You can’t move. You’re trapped.

Where are you? How did you get here? Who the fuck are you?

You cry out, your voice rough and weak, like it hasn’t been used in some time, and you struggle to whimper out high-pitched screams. You flail, banging your fists against the obstacle. Something rains down on your face and into your open, shrieking mouth. You try to spit out the coarse and grainy material.

It tastes like rust and rot and necroses.

Dirt.

Your stomach drops, churns, and you dry heave between sobs, banging and clawing at the wood above your chest. Splinters spear under your fingernails, causing sharp, skewering pain, until your nails are ripped from their beds.

Balling your hands into fists, you batter at the slats of wood above you, flecks of dirt falling into your wild eyes, until your knuckles split and bleed.

“Let me out!” You yelp, in a voice that does not seem right to your ears, but is somehow so familiar. Tears roll down your cheeks, soil sticking and smudging to the wet trails, and you wail, a broken, distraught, cursed sound. “Please! Help me! Anyone!”

“I’m not dead!” You howl, but somehow, you know you are. Maybe it’s the inability to satisfy your need for air or the fact that your heart isn’t pounding against your ribs like a wild animal trying to break free from a too-small cage, but something tells you that you’re dead. “I’m not dead! I’m not dead… I’m not….”

You batter your fists against the wood again, harder, frantic, and desperate. The slats begin to give, moaning under the ferocity of your strikes. One splits, cracks, and with one more punch, it breaks apart.

Loose soil avalanches into your casket, amassing on you so quickly that, for a moment, you’re frozen. Your dead body still fights for the air it thinks it requires, and you inhale the earth, clogging your windpipe.

You weep as your fingers clamber, reaching for the planks above you, and you pull and push them with all your might until pounds of slurry dirt eclipse you completely.

Your arms swim through the loose, freshly moved terrain, but it is like swimming through a gelatinous marsh. The weight of it restricts your movement, making your ascent slow.

Foot after foot, you claw your way up to the surface, and when your hand bursts through the final layer, you bawl, a gush of relief and despair braided into the rasp of your voice. Your feet plant on what remains of your coffin, thrusting and kicking furiously, and you pull half of your body out.

Your hands plant, braced on your palms, stomach upending, and you regurgitate earth, blood, and death. Bile and acid burn your already raw throat. You purge every last drop of the clumpy clots of coagulated blood, strings of slimy mucous stretching and drooling from your mouth.

Head hanging limply, you gawk at your grimy hands. The skin is torn, bloodied, and ragged across your knuckles. The brisk air stings the sensitive, flame-red beds where your fingernails should be. Something in your brain twitches and tells you that these hands do not belong to you. You flex them, digging them into the vomit-saturated earth.

Something slams into your ribs, robbing you of the fresh air you’re gulping down and flinging you to your back. You bark out a wheeze of surprise, hacking, and choking.

“Open your eyes, my child.” Another recognizable voice, although less so than your own. “You shall bestow thy Master due respect when in my presence.”

Your eyes snap open completely out of your control, and you gaze upon a ghostly white figure looming over you like a dark cloud. He adorns a cloak of blood red and gold. His pointed face holds an air of rather bland curiosity, but more so, there’s a bitter contempt knitted in the impatient pinch of his brow.

You seethe with loathing, a hatred so intense that your lips peel back. “What have you done to me!?” You squawk through your threadbare larynx.

“Me?” The figure laughs nasally and arrogant. He smiles snake-like. “I’ve given you the greatest gift a degenerate like you could ever hope to receive. I’ve snatched you away from the mandibles of death. You will serve me until I have no use for you anymore, and then your vile soul will serve me still for eternity.”

“I will kill you for this!” You scream indignantly, scrambling to push yourself upright, but your muscles are exhausted.

“You died screaming, boy.” The man with raven, slicked-back hair sneers, slamming his cane across your forehead and ribs, making a squall erupt from your tight lips. “Your screams are succulent. Rest assured. I shall procure that sweet harmony when it suits me, but it does not suit me now. Dig.”

Dig?

You do not understand the instruction and frown, but the order lacerates through your psyche, skin, and bones, and you obey. Turning toward your grave, you crawl on your hands and knees and excavate the earth.

You growl and sob out of hate uncontrollably. Your fingers itch to gouge out the man’s vermillion glowing eyes, and your teeth long to rip his throat out, but your muscles are not your own any longer.

Your body, mind, and soul are his possessions now.

The staff clouts across your lower back, “Faster. We do not have all night.”

Even though your arms ache, your fingers and hands work faster, and handful by handful, you move earth until the wooden shackles of your coffin are staring back at you from the hole.

“Take something quickly.” The voice barks at you, but it is not the same voice as the man with black hair.

Your vision vibrates, tremors, and the hands knotted into the ground before you reform into your own as they reach into the abyss you dragged yourself from and wrap around a navy shroud, embroidered with silver, pointed stars, and delicate lace fringing.

You’ve seen this before, and it makes the strings of your heart snap, shattering under the strain of despair. You pull it from the wreckage, and when you sit back on your heels, the twisted metallic spindle of a cane butts under your chin, making your teeth clatter together.

When you look up, it is not Cazador that sneers at you spitefully; it is Astarion.

Another memory, you realize, as you look around at the iridescent environment that flickers and fluxes unsteadily. Your hands flex in the sullied fabric, and you bring it close to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut and whimpering at the realization of just how much suffering lingers camouflaged underneath his skin and beguiling grins.

“Stand, boy!” Astarion shouts harshly, thumping the staff on the ground. “I grow tired of watching thou rollick in the dirt.”

“Astarion,” you stammer. “Astarion, wake us up.”

He laughs, bitter as nightshade, a hollow sound that chills your bones as Woe slams across your shoulders, lurching you forward, and scraping your face on the cold earth. His eyes glow with infernal heat. “I said stand!”

Your body begins to obey, but you grit your teeth, and anger, wild and raw, riots in your obsolete heart. You find your voice, and a rattling roar arises from your throat.

Beads of sweat glisten in the sunlight on your forehead; rainbow dewdrops refract the light that’s bouncing off your pearlescent scales. Your lungs are too constricted to even scream as the remanent feeling of the weight of the earth continues to press in on you, and you thrash against the confines of your limbs.

“Illyria!” A warm hand cradles your cheek, but the name barely registers as your own, and you snarl, baring your teeth. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

Your eyes surge open, casting off the weight of sleep like a projectile. You are draped with black, rumpled silken sheets that smell like brandy, rosemary, and lovemaking. Astarion is propped up on an elbow, as close as he can get to you without making you feel more claustrophobic. His eyes shine richly red, almost glowing in the glare of the sun streaming through the open double doors leading to the terrace.

Blinking rapidly, you try to dispel the mirage of him standing over you in that graveyard, gripping Woe, but the images of the memory still dance at the edge of your vision. Your chest heaves as if you had been running miles, and you stumble out of bed with all the grace of a newborn Gnoll trying to find its footing on a slippery bed of ice.

Astarion jumps out of bed but keeps his distance, giving you room to breathe. The kinship remains open and strong, and you can feel his heart galloping in your chest, the pricking in his palms and fingertips to hold you, and the guilt-ridden rumination harrowing him.

You stare at your hands, remembering the way splinters pried your nails from your fingertips, how your knuckles cracked and popped, the skin splitting and bleeding. You grit your teeth, grasp the Weave, and summon flames that climb up your forearms like snakes. It’s tactile — the authority you wield over the element. It begs to serve you, and there is asylum in that power.

You take a deep breath, but unlike when you were alive, it does nothing to mollify your unease.

“Take deep breaths, Astarion,” you whisper, glancing at him.

With the connection open, he does not need any explanations. You can feel the shift in your psyche as he touches your mind with a little more intensity, though not uncomfortable, and imbues you with the sensations of his own body while he fills his lungs, deep and steady.

You close your eyes and let yourself settle into the rhythmic respirations. You don’t hear Astarion approach, except for the increasing thrum of his heartbeat, but if you focus, you can almost see yourself out of his eyes.

Holding your hand out, he takes it and pulls you into him, pressing your head and ear up against his chest to the regular beats of his heart. Your hands glide up his back and press firmly into him.

“I’m sorry.” It floats through your head as his fingers lace through your hair. He rocks you ever so subtly from side to side. “I forgot to withdraw the connection.”

“It’s okay. I’d rather you didn’t rescind it anyway.”

This gives him pause, but he just nods, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Next time he speaks, he uses his voice in a plush and gentle timbre. “Will you come back to bed? You must have questions.”

You nod, following him to the bed. Astarion leans against the velvet headboard and slips an arm behind your back, pulling you up against his chest. He smooths your hair behind your ear and leans his cheek on you.

“Well?” He asks expectantly.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” You glance up, meeting his eyes. “I know you don’t like discussing your past.”

He chuckles, cocking a brow at you. “I think we are a little past simply discussing it. No? I’m not entirely sure how much you saw, but...”

“Lived,” you gulp. “I relived it.”

“What?” He starts, an icy shock running through both of you. “What do you mean? Surely, you were not in there with me.”

“Thank you for not burying me.” You wince, recalling waking up to the smell of decomposition and musky earth. The taste of it grating against your tongue, sprinkling on your face. “Thank you.”

Astarion scans your memories and emotions, and you don’t bother trying to barricade them from him.

“Shit.” Astarion tears his fingers over his face and through his handsomely dishevelled hair. “Are you okay?”

Bringing your hand to his cheek, your eyes are drawn to the ring on your fingers. You smile, looking deeply into his eyes. “Are you?”

“Me?”

Astarion swallows hard. His eyes scramble side to side, as if he needs time to consider the question. Finally, he looks at you with a quivering gaze and speaks through your connection as if his throat is too tight to utter words, or perhaps - perhaps he just doesn’t want to admit it aloud.

“No.”

Pushing yourself up to lean on the headboard, you open your arm to him and pat your chest. Astarion’s stunned expression makes you sad. How often has he needed to be held but never said anything? When was the last time someone offered to comfort him?

He contemplates the offer, sliding down the bed slowly, and places his head on your chest, draping his arm across your waist.

Folding your arms around him, you kiss his forehead and lean your cheek against his head. He heaves a contented sigh as you brush your fingertips up and down his arm. You stay like this with him for some time, closing your eyes, and submerge yourself in the enchantment of the love permeating the harmony of the bond.

“If you tell anyone that you cuddled me, I will have to kill you,” he laughs relaxedly.

You roll your eyes as he glances up at you. “Oh, I doubt anyone would believe that I was bestowed the great honour of cuddling the fearsome Vampire Ascendant.”

“Fearsome, am I?” He giggles, trailing a hand up your thigh, making your breath hitch, stomach tightening in anticipation.

You shudder as Astarion ghosts his lips over your nipple, giving it just enough attention to stiffen and goosebumps to erupt over your skin. “A very formidable meal.”

“Ever the brat,” he chuckles, propping himself up on his elbow and tracing his fingers between your breasts. “Hungry, love?”

“In so many ways.”

“Shall we quench that thirst of yours?” Astarion kisses you. Your tongue demands entrance, and he gives it, tangling his fingers in your hair. He finds you fang, running his tongue over the tip, and you whimper as soon as the ferric honey greets your tastebuds.

Astarion’s fingers slip between your thighs, and you gasp as he spreads your lips and strokes through the silkiness there.

You whine when he breaks the kiss, stealing away the succulent snack of blood. “We will have to be cautious today. As much as I would adore staying sequestered away, keeping you naked and wet for an eternity, we must return home, and it would simply not do to have both of us stumbling like drunk fools through the streets.”

“It could be fun,” you muse. “We used to shamble drunk through the streets before.”

“Yes,” he smirks, toying with your sensitive flesh, making you arc your spine. “You were a terribly bad influence on me.”

You scoff, but it comes out as more of a moan as he rains slow, lingering kisses down your neck. “That’s a far-reaching supposition. I believe we were both already equipped with a broken moral compass.”

Astarion jerks back, feigning bewilderment theatrically. “Darling! You wound me. I was a virtual paragon of virtue until you came along and corrupted me with,” he motions toward your body with a crooked, beguiling grin, “all of this.”

You giggle, “Oh yes. I forgot how you prevented my wicked ways from harming all the unicorns, puppies, and bunnies."

“Mhm,” he groans darkly, sucking your nipple between his lips and swirling his tongue around the hard rosebud.

Your hands curl into the silken sheets. Astarion’s fingers tease your entrance and plunge deep into your channel. He peppers kisses down your stomach, driving your legs apart with his free hand. You cannot help but watch him — the way his muscles rise to the surface of his skin, flexing as he crawls down your body, the perfect curve of his lips. He is impossibly stunning, unimaginably powerful, and he belongs to you.

Astarion’s fangs drag down your inner thigh. “May I?” He growls, all gravel and saturated in carnal longing.

“Gods, yes.” You pant. “Take me how you want me, Astarion. I want you to take your pleasure from me.”

He twerks his fingers up, paying homage to the pad of flesh that sends you spiralling into toe-curling pleasure as his fangs snap into your skin. His thumb circles your clit, fingers pumping, and he draws from you greedily with a moan.

When you’re close to your climax, Astarion lips wrap around your clit, tongue fluttering and tracing the aching border. Astarion watches you melt into bliss through thick lashes, and you reach your hand out to him. He doesn’t hesitate to take it, interlocking your fingers, and you squeeze as the pleasure builds.

“Come, my wife.”

You’re pushed over the edge, thighs wrapping around his head in the profound rush of rapture. Astarion wraps one arm around you, pulling you snug to his chest, and you fold your arms around his neck. He takes you out to the terrace in the midday sun.

“What are we doing out here?” You murmur as he sets you on your feet, directs you to turn around, and places your hands on the railing.

“You said take you how I want you,” he purrs. His cock slides between your slick thighs, your arousal dripping. “I want to take you while we are bathed in the sun, where you agreed to marry me.”

He catches the shot of fear that runs through you and halts all movement. Astarion brushes your hair back from your shoulder and places a gentle kiss on it. “Tell me why you’re afraid, love. Is it too… public? If you are uncomfortable, we can go back inside.”

Honestly, the fact that you could be seen had not crossed your mind. You glance around quickly. The terrace is well hidden from the view of the streets, and if you’re being truthful, you don’t really care if anyone sees you.

“Your control won’t lapse, right?”

“Hm?” He quirks a brow at you, and you nod toward the fiery sphere of death aloft in the sky. Astarion kisses your cheek. “Ah, no. Extending you that gift is nearly an unconscious feat now."

You lean back into him, pressing your ass into him and arching your back. Astarion trails his fingers lightly down the delicate skin of your arm. Grabbing your hips, he positions you, fists his cock, and steers the blunt head through your seam to your entrance. He buries himself to the hilt, sliding in with no resistance. His breath hisses, and he nips your ear as he begins to fuck you. You push against his thrusts, his hips poisoning at a punishing pace.

“Take my cock, Illyria,” he groans. “Gods. Take all of me. Tell me how it feels when I make you mine, when I claim you.”

You whimper, grasping the railing to keep your knees from giving out. “Fucking perfect.”

Astarion’s hand snakes down your stomach. He hooks one of your legs on his forearm, allowing him to bury himself deeper with every snap of his hips. His fingertips delve between your lips and glide rapidly over your throbbing clit while he ruts into you, taking his pleasure however he wants it, and Gods, does it feel so fucking good to be stuffed full and stretched. You stop trying to stifle your moans and cry out lewdly, falling so deeply in your passion that nothing exists beyond his skin on yours.

Astarion’s wrist butts up against your lips. “Feed. Taste my bliss, my love.”

Opening your mouth, you sink your fangs into the branching veins and draw. His blood tastes different, spiced with desire, buttery, smooth, and Hells below, hot. Your eyes close against the overwhelming ecstasy as nerves blaze, and the spasms of your orgasm clench around Astarion.

His hips jitter in erratic thrusts, and he loses control as he chases his own climax. Astarion moans, guttural and ragged, as he comes, unravelling completely for you, emptying himself into you with each pulse.

Astarion chuckles, giving his wrist a jiggle in a request for you to unlatch. It’s easier this time to surrender the meal. He lets your leg down slowly, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, his cock still nestled inside you. He uses a finger to guide your head to turn and kisses you passionately.

“Such a good girl,” he groans, nuzzling your cheek. You roll your hips teasingly.

“…Hmph.” Astarion grunts as his oversensitive head shifts inside you, and he grabs your hips to still you. He grins, fangs peeking out from his lips and glinting in the sun. “So needy.” He tuts.

You smile back, displaying your own fangs proudly.

“Those are utterly adorable, like a kitten," he taunts. You scoff and stick your tongue out at him. He chuckles with his nose in your hair. “I love you.”

There’s a twinge of pain in your head, sharp and stringent, forcing itself to be felt. Astarion winces nearly imperceptibly and covers it by kissing up the back of your neck.

He pushes along before you have time to question what the pain was. “I suppose we should return home and speak, hm?”

Illyria sits on the ottoman in front of him with her head hung low, shoulders slumped, fidgeting and picking at her fingers. Astarion notes her every glance and the way her eyes dart around. She’s assessing their surroundings, taking inventory of exits, and searching for places to hide from him. She was always good at taking appraisals of the battlefields they were about to shed blood upon, making sure everyone had an exit strategy should death come knocking.

Her guilt and fear radiate over the bond like a dark stain spreading through silk fabric. She is keeping her thoughts well-hidden from him, and he’s a little vexed about the barrier. Maybe he should never have taught her that was possible. He should have kept that secret guarded so he could read her like an open book.

He is the Ascendant, after all, and she is his, so why should he not have unfettered access to her most intimate thoughts? Why should he be left here, staring at her like an idiot, waiting for her to open her fucking mouth and tell him what she’s been keeping from him?

He owns her. He made her. She is his bride, his consort, his wife — his, his, his! She belongs to him, and thus, all her thoughts and feelings are his to sup on as he sees fit. Astarion feels the chill of Cania sweep through him like a polar gust with every whisper of the shade within him.

She’s made you soft and weak, dragging you down into the dirt you emerged from as a pathetic spawn, and she’s going to bury you once again. How long has she known? How long has she managed to make a godsdamned fool out of you?

He could force all her deceit from her lungs with a simple thought. He wants to compel her to tell him so eminently that it takes him substantial effort to govern himself.

No. No. No.

He should not be doing that to her. He should not yearn for it so feverishly. Is it truly him who wants to force her submission, or whatever ails him? Sometimes, he cannot tell what his inclination is or that of his sick mind.

Gods. It aches in every bone, as if ice crystals are forming within them and splintering them as his blood thickens in his veins. Astarion starts to feel himself fade as the monster in him begins to run free. Every muscle smoulders under his restraint. He wants to grab her, hurt her, and make her suffer as he is suffering.

If he must languish in the dark, he will plunge the world into darkness with him.

“Astarion. Look at me.”

Her touch is frosty against his sweaty skin, and he snarls at the unexpected contact, lashing out like a cornered animal. He grips her shoulders, feeling the bones grind together under his fingers and relishing in his strength.

“Open your eyes, my love.” She whines through gritted teeth.

Time seems tacky, the seconds and minutes sticking to his skin. It slips away with the same tangibility that he can feel himself departing from his body. Gods, what will he do to her? He cannot allow himself to be swallowed.

Astarion. Astarion. Astarion. He chants to himself.

This is why she’s kept this from him, why she fears him. He is a wretched, ugly thing now. Isn’t he? The Rite may have given him safety and power, but it alienated him from everyone and everything he ever cared about.

But if he gives in to whatever is inside of him, he will disappear, along with all his inadequacies.

She needs me, he reminds himself. She needs him, Astarion.

The pungent bouquet of her blood hits his nose first, then he feels her wrist push against his lips. His eyes snap open as his tongue laps at the elixir of her essence. His heart beats fast in his chest as he watches her eyes flicker just as his do. They fade, but she is fire, and her flame burns brighter, rebelling against that which threatens to choke her.

Astarion jerks back, relinquishing his hold on her, and scrambles to close the connection. It cannot have her. It can have him, but he will not allow it to infect her as well. Had he known, Gods, had he known that was possible, he would never have let their minds meld.

She hugs him… She hugs him?

Though she is cold as death, she is warm like the sun, melting the ice solidifying in his veins and heating the arctic whirlwind threatening to propel him away.

“Did I hurt you?” He murmurs, but what he really wants to ask is, did I fail you again?

“You did not fail me,” she answers his innermost thoughts.

Shit. He did not realize he had let his control slip, and his thoughts rove freely across their connection.

“Are you okay now?” She looks up at him with those eyes — those cracked, piebald eyes that never cease to wrest the air from his lungs. They are like an antidote to the chaos, and he is calm.

“I’m me,” he nods.

She moves away from him, taking her seat back on the ottoman. “I kept it from you.”

“Yes,” he nods. Sitting beside her, he lets his finger graze over the engagement ring her eyes are anchored to. “I’ve gathered that much. You had a good reason to hide it from me. Why tell me now, then?”

She rotates the ring on her finger. “Do you actually want to marry me?”

“More than anything,” he whispers softly. Astarion brings her eyes to his and lets his feelings flow as freely as he can through the union they share. Her eyes widen, and tears well. Not exactly the reaction he was looking for, but she is not crying due to him.

Astarion sits back on the settee. She is quiet again, lost in the thoughts she’s hiding from him.

“Come here, my treasure.” Astarion extends his arms, wrapping them around her when she settles in his lap with her head against his chest. His thumb wipes away the teardrop creeping out of the corner of her eye. “You had your reasons for keeping it from me, but I would rather like to know why I am, shall we call it, unstable?”

She sighs, easing herself back to look into his eyes. “Mephistopheles created the Vampire Ascendant contract so that he could imbue a willing vessel with part of his violent nature to rid himself of it. The vessel was never supposed to have a soul, and thus, yours has been damaged — fragmented.” She takes a moment to consider him, watch his eyes, and feel her way through the bond, but in truth, he just feels empty.

Numb.

Illyria continues, “That entity, for lack of a better word, is infecting you like a virus. It will eventually... Hells, Astarion,” a sob erupts from her lips. “It will consume you eventually.”

“HA! Ha-ha-ha.” She flinches. Astarion rolls his eyes. Gods. When will his decisions not turn out to be a disaster? He sighs. “How long do I have to live as me?”

“We’re going to save you, Astarion,” she concludes. Her eyes are alight with glittering determination. “You’re just really not going to like what we have to do.”

“Oh Hells. I am going to regret asking this, but whatever would that be?”

“We need to steal your contract back from Mephistopheles.” Her voice does not even waver.

Now he understands why she didn’t want to tell him. She knew he would never allow her to do something so fucking stupid. The anger is creeping back up, tingling from his toes to the tips of his ears.

“Absolutely not.” Astarion shakes his head and takes on a brusque, commanding tone. “There is no way in the Hells I am letting you go on that little suicide mission. I have lived a long life. If it’s coming to an end, let me spend what time I have remaining with you.”

“I’m going!” She shouts at him, jumping off his lap and baring her adorable little fangs. “You are welcome to lay here and let yourself die, but I will not. I am going to find a way into the Hells, to Cania, and I’m getting that contract back.”

“The Hells you are!” He flies out of his seat, pacing. The psychosis in his mind is wide awake now. Wide awake and raging. He must regain control of himself. He must not let his emotions blow him over. Astarion takes a deep breath and says, “No. It’s too dangerous. I will not have my wife gallivanting around the Hells. It’s not happening, Illyria.”

“What are you going to do, Astarion?” She challenges, all the sharpness of her draconic ancestry ablaze in her timbre. “Compel me?”

He wracks his hand over his face, resting it on the back of his neck with narrowed eyes. “If I must. I told you; I will always do what is necessary to protect you.”

“Is that really how you want to start our engagement, our marriage?”

“No,” he growls. He’s losing control of himself. He can feel the authority he has being slowly funnelled away again. “I do not wish to compel you, but if you force my hand...”

It feels like thorny vines of icicles are crawling up his spine, humming the haunting song of Cania through his bloodstream. The serenade of frozen wastelands, glaciers, and abyssal crags swoons through him.

It’s enchanting.

Kill her before she destroys you. You are nothing without me and your power. I warned you the enchantress seeks to undo and lay waste to all that you’ve become. She is your greatest weakness, your only weakness, the last reminder of the pathetic spawn you were that keeps you attached to this soul. She must be vanquished.

His heart twists at the thought, corkscrewing in his chest. Are these his soulless thoughts? Mephistopheles thoughts? A combination of both? How does one tell the difference? His power surges, and the furniture all begins to tremor, thunking on the floors and fluttering in the air, staggering this way and that.

Astarion tries to shut it out, tries to regain control, but it hurts.

Pain is something he is well accustomed to. He would not have survived under Cazador without building a tolerance for pain, but this is somehow different. It is not merely pain; it is temptation, alluring in its seraphic oath of asylum, salvation, and shelter.

You do not have to feel; it hums. You do not have to suffer so.

His lips pull back, baring his fangs. He yearns to allow himself to be washed away in the black quintessence of nonexistence, where he can lay weightless, carefree, and safe.

Safe from the world that broke him and laughed as he suffered. Safe from the eyes that view him as nothing more than a monster. Safe from the fear, judgement, and revulsion he saw in his friend’s faces. It promises endless safety for all the parts of him that are still soft, vulnerable, and weak.

He craves it.

Her voice breaks him from his spiral. “Like you are trying to force my hand to live eternity without you?”

This catches him off guard, and he pivots. “What?”

Rivulets of tears roll down her cheeks. His heart palpates in his chest; a steak molded from sorrow drives through their combined heartbeat. She is terrified that he really will force her to watch him perish slowly, eaten away by the cancerous malignancy nested in his soul. Yet, her determination soars on the steel wings of a dragon, and her eyes are a flaring pyre of obstinacy.

There will be no talking her out of this; no amount of reasoning with her will suffice. She stares at him with an inflexibility that makes the parts of his remaining soul gasp. She had been so weak and small when she returned, her fire all but snuffed out by death, but now here she is blazing like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Stupid, stubborn woman.

“You’re not just asking me to sit back and watch you be emptied until there’s nothing left of you but a shell with your face. You’re asking me to watch you cease to exist and then go on living without you for eternity. I cannot do it, Astarion. I cannot fathom a world without you in it, and if I have a chance to save you, I’m going to take it, no matter how slim the odds are.”

“You wish to rob me of this power?” He howls indignantly. He cannot go back to being enfeebled by the sun and insatiable hunger. He cannot go back to having to prostrate himself to get anywhere. “You wish to undo the Ascension and turn me back into that spineless swine of a spawn I once was?”

He will not go back — even for her.

He can feel his eyes flashing manically. The winds of Cania howl in his ears, wild glaciers flow through his veins, and icebergs accumulate in the crevasses of his mind. Melanoid gloom froths around the edges of his sight, always creeping closer, closer, closer.

He is being frozen and buried alive in his own body, and he cannot dig himself out quickly enough.

He is going to lose.

“Run.” He growls at her.

“What?”

“I cannot hold it,” he grunts, doubling over. By the Gods, it hurts worse than any pain that's ever split his skin or cracked his bones. It avalanches over him, dragging him back down into the dark, dank coffin, and he does not know if he has the strength to crawl out of his grave again. “Run!”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. Your support gives me the motivation to keep this fic going, and I appreciate each of you! ❤️

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

Should she run or hold her ground and have a showdown with the soulless part of him that wants nothing more than to destroy her?

Will Astarion be able to pry himself out?

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion smut #fangs and fractured hearts #astarion baldurs gate #astarion ancunin #soft ascended astarion

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