#shes afraid of a mirror more than anything

[rookisaknight]

Lrb relevant something about the way each brother is constantly reiterating their trauma in an attempt to subdue it.

Jacob, most direct and long-term recipient of their father's abuse, surrounds himself with people he's conditioned to become violent at the drop of a hat.

But its ok, because he controls the trigger this time.

Joseph, left abandoned by the splitting of their family, creates conditions for his new Family that are so untenable it's only a matter of time before any given member tries to leave him.

But it's ok, because being forced to constantly negotiate, gaslight, and threaten people into sticking with him makes him feel like he has power over his isolation this time.

John reliving his childhood torture every goddamn day, carving himself up when he can't carve up others and having his fear of damnation dangled over his head by his brother god. Constantly repenting, constantly atoning, never forgiven.

But it's ok, because he holds the knife this time. When you hold the knife, you get to say when it stops, and you get to extract sin from others rather than have it extracted from you.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[bweeeb]

HARD DICK...or three

Summary: Draco, Theo and Mattheo have always been Y/n's best friends, but when she realizes that the reason her relationships don't last long are them, the conversation takes a funny turn involving three boys with hard cocks.

Warnings: English is not my first language, a lot of intimacy between the boys and the reader.

---

There were people who were lucky in their careers, financial life, academics, and even love life. You were a lucky person but hated to admit that the hardest part for you was always your unluckiest part. Boyfriends were never easy for you, and staying stable with them was even harder. You never considered if the reason none of them lasted or were worthwhile was your fault—your poor choices, or the lack of character in all three serious relationships you had over the past few years. You never questioned it until last night. Dave Franco was your boyfriend for a year and a half, and last night he had a jealous outburst in the middle of a Hufflepuff party. You swore you heard him repeat the same words more than three times, “shitty friends,” “are you sure you didn’t have a threesome?” “They want to fuck you!” You were drunk and getting upset with his words until you realized that maybe your friends were much more intimidating to your boyfriends or flings than you had noticed. So you concluded that no, you were not the problem; they were…

— Alright, Our sleeping beauty has already missed the first classes.

Theodore's voice spread through the silent room along with the rustling of the comforter beside you as he occupied the space next to you.

— If you miss lunch, Snape will punish you until next year.

Mattheo said, pulling the blanket off your body, exposing your figure dressed only in navy blue lingerie that hugged your curves.

— And that means if you want to graduate this year, you better get out of this room.

Draco said, casting his eyes over you as you groaned into your pillow and shook your head in denial.

— Fuck off.

You whimpered, feeling your body shiver from the cold due to the lack of a blanket. Normally, you wouldn't be so exposed in front of your male friends, but Dave had broken up with you, so you didn't care at all if the three saw your butt, breasts, or whatever—it wasn't anything more than they had grown up seeing.

— What the hell happened to you? You didn’t even drink that much last night.

Theo said, and immediately you turned to look at him with a pout on your lips.

— Dave, he broke up with me.

You muttered, sitting up quickly.

— And it's your fault, so one of you owes me some affection.

As soon as you said that, your legs wrapped around Nott's waist, who smiled mischievously at Malfoy and Riddle, who were standing at the foot of the bed, watching you almost naked, snuggling into Theodore’s lap. It wasn’t a secret that you were obviously the dream of the three boys, and the fact that you grew up together gave them enough freedom to act like that among themselves.

— What do you mean?

Theodore asked, wrapping his arms around you.

— Yeah, he broke up with you because we’re your friends? Was he afraid of getting punched if he broke your heart or what?

Mattheo mocked Dave, and Draco laughed beside him and continued:

— Man, I think he's gay; there's no way he broke up with you because of us.

— No, he thinks we fucked or something. I don't know how many times I heard the word threesome or that you guys wanted to fuck me last night. Man, it was like torture.

You groaned, getting off Nott's lap and out of the bed, walking towards the mirror. You looked at yourself and sighed, rolling your eyes.

— The guy broke up with you because he thinks we want to fuck you?

Theodore laughed, and you gave him the middle finger while fixing your hair.

— Honestly, he's more insecure than my grandfather. Merlin, how did you stand him?

Draco laughed as Mattheo approached you and hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

— Oh yeah, Draco’s grandfather probably fucks his grandmother more than that loser Dave fucked you. Am I wrong?

Mattheo said with a mischievous smile directed at you through the mirror's reflection, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

— Ew, I don't want to think about Malfoy's grandparents having sex.

Theodore grunted, getting out of bed.

— Yeah, whatever, but the point here is that you all can hug her, and I can't? Get your claws off her, Riddle.

Draco grumbled, unhappy with your position, receiving an irritating smile from Mattheo, who let you go and allowed you to go to Draco with a gentle smile.

— Ah, he's a baby, guys.

You said, and Draco glared at you with a scowl.

— Shut up…

Draco grumbled, pulling you by the waist and throwing you on the bed with him on top.

— I’ll put a baby in you if you keep that up.

— See, that’s why my relationships don’t last.

You said, throwing your head back and pushing Draco off you to fall beside you on the bed.

— Nah, this is bullshit because we don’t do this with you when you’re dating.

Theodore said, sitting next to where your head was lying, as did Mattheo on the opposite side.

— I don’t know; maybe I’m just a terrible girlfriend and act the wrong way.

You murmured, frustrated, turning onto your stomach to hide your face in a pillow.

— Y/n, princess, stop blaming yourself for the idiot’s idiotic choice.

Draco shrugged while leaning his back against the bed's headboard and throwing another pillow at your now exposed butt.

— You hardly even come near us when you’re dating. I can’t remember the last time I hugged you besides today.

Mattheo made a mocking expression, thinking David was making false accusations about you.

— You are the most loyal person in Hogwarts, and everyone knows it. If your boyfriends are all insecure enough not to handle being with you because of us, it’s simple—they don’t deserve you, dolcezza.

— Really?

You asked, and as confirmation, you received three murmurs of agreement. Propping your elbows on the mattress, your gaze changed to a curious look that was noticed by Nott and Riddle.

— Hmm, do you guys want to?

You asked another question, and this time the boys’ faces on your bed were genuinely confused.

�� What?

Mattheo questioned your question, and you laughed, laying your head on Theo’s lap, who had lit a cigarette. With a look, Nott understood; he brought the cigarette to you, and with a wild smile, he answered Mattheo and asked you.

— Fuck you?

— Uh-huh.

You agreed, hearing Draco laugh while accepting the cigarette from Theo.

— Everyone wants to fuck you, princess.

— Right, but I’m not talking about everyone; I’m talking about you guys.

You said impatiently, sitting on your heels to look at the three on your bed, staring at you without saying a word.

— Come on, I’m curious.

— You don’t understand, do you?

Mattheo, with his dark eyes and a sly smile, leaned closer to your neck.

— Don’t understand what?

— You can’t ask if we’d fuck you when you’re dressed like that, darling.

Mattheo murmured, and you heard Theo and Draco’s nasal laughter as they moved on the bed.

— Okay, so that would be a yes?

You asked.

— Hell yeah.

Theo agreed, bringing the cigarette back to his plump lips and then to yours.

Your smile grew with each passing minute of silence in the room. The three of them were eyeing you as if you were gold, and you couldn’t measure how much that amused you.

— What?

You asked, feigning innocence as if you hadn’t seen the bulges growing in the pants of the three there.

— Alright, I’ll get changed so we can meet Pansy and Daphne. Wait for me a second.

With that, you got up from the bed and heard a groan from Draco.

— Seriously? I’m hard as fuck, damn it.

Malfoy groaned again, and the four of you laughed.

— You’re evil.

Theo sighed, and you turned to look at them with a pained face.

— I think my dick is going to break, it’s so hard right now.

Mattheo said, throwing himself on the bed before looking at you at the bathroom door with a huge smile.

— Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t do anything.

You said innocently, and Mattheo snorted.

— How am I supposed to continue the day like this?

— I don’t know, jerk off together, think of Malfoy's grandparents fucking.

You laughed again, and their scowls grew bigger.

— I swear you’ll pay for this, dolcezza.

Was the last thing you heard besides groans before you left to change for afternoon classes.

---

I hope you enjoy this

And if you want to read some dirty shit here:

[angelic--kitty]

dilf arlecchino stretching out a virgin reader on her fat cock

dom!dilf arlecchino x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (minors/ageless blogs dni), wlw content, transfem!arlecchino, virgin!reader, age-gap (arle is in her late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), size kink, fingering, penetration, handjob

a/n: tagging my favorite silly @myfriendscallmebun who i hope enjoys this ♡ this is so long

she first hired you merely as a form of entertainment for her children. someone eager to please who wouldn't require such a large salary. someone who, at least, would never ask someone like her for more than she offered.

it's a surprising decision, on her end, to select a college girl to watch over her precious children. though, you presented yourself so nicely at the interview, and your references and resume did you well.

besides, it might be nice for the children to be around someone closer to their age for a change. they often spent time with arlecchino herself and occasionally her coworkers.

and, you had grown on her.

it's been nearly two months since you started working for her, and a few weeks since you began passing flirtatious remarks to one another.

the thing that finally melted her heart was an evening she worked late. she was already irritated her children would be asleep when she got home, but she felt guilty making you stay hours late at her home.

much to her surprise (and inner delight), when she came home, she found the children tucked into their beds, and you standing so sweetly at the door.

you had slipped her jacket off, hanging it up and tugging her into the kitchen. sure enough, you had saved her a plate of the spaghetti you made, along with a glass of her favorite red wine.

that was the day when she finally asked you to accompany her on a proper date.

and, now, here you are, standing in front of your mirror, fussing with your dress and jewelry. the dress she had bought for you special for tonight. it was black, falling just below your knees- rather classy for someone so young.

20 minutes. in 20 minutes she was picking you up.

nervous as you were, you couldn't believe you were going on a date with her. especially to somewhere so expensive and exclusive.

it was some sort of upscale bar with expensive alcohol and food. somewhere arlecchino claimed to frequent often when she needed alone time.

you almost broke out into laughter when she admitted she hired childe, her younger coworker, for the evening to watch her children.

"oh, i'm not concerned for my childrens' safety. if anything, he should be afraid for his own." was her reply, a small smirk on her lips that you nearly missed.

she lead you into the restaurant with confidence, turning heads, eliciting whispers as she kept her hand on the small of your back while the waiter brought you to your table.

"what do you think so far?" she asked, her wine glass already being filled, no need to speak her order.

"it's...definitely different than what i'm used to. but it's really nice. i like having an excuse to dress up a little." you smile at her and she raises her glass to her lips.

"i want to spoil you for the evening. for not only treating my children so well, but because you are an exceptional woman. i only hope my gestures come off as genuine as i intend." she sips her wine, setting it down to begin rambling to you about the menu.

but you're not quite listening, distracted by her hands, her lips, her eyes. how could someone be so perfect?

she's quite a bit older than you, probably much more experienced. does she truly feel the same way you do? and-

"sweetheart?" she breaks you from your thoughts and you stiffen up.

"i'm sorry- i'm listening!" you squeak, but she sees right through you.

although, she finds it rather cute. she's noticed before, obviously. your wandering eyes, the way you bite your lip when she picks up something heavy like it's nothing, or how your thighs press together when she takes a stern tone.

she simply wants to know the depths of your affection for her. after all, she has similar thoughts of you.

"which dish would you like then?" she asks pointedly, allowing you to hold the menu with shaky hands.

"ah...um..." the words blur together, not registering. "what do you recommend?"

she tilts her head, taking the menu back. "allow me to order for you then."

you like when she takes control. she knows what she wants, and she will have it. you wish it a quality you embodied more, though she fascinates you. it is almost natural to her.

dinner goes rather smoothly, and you get to taste test a few different wines, but not nearly enough to get you even remotely tipsy.

"i much prefer coherent company." her lips quirk up as she says this, and you laugh behind your hand.

she's funny, you admit. her dry humor is one of your favorite things about her.

it's a shame when dinner comes to an end, but you two mutually draw it out as long as you can. you share a dessert, and plenty of good conversation about yourselves. you learn things about her you never would've thought, and likewise for her.

the ride back to your place is just as pleasant, though you feel nervous inside. you want to make a move. you want to ask her to come inside. to stay...

but you couldn't possibly. that would be absurd... right?

regardless, she walks you in, ensuring you get into your place safely. she's a gentleman in how she holds your bags and all the doors at every stop.

the little bit of wine in your system has you feeling bold, stopping her in her tracks before she could put her shoes back on. "wait! why... don't you stay for a little? i could make us some tea. herbal! so you won't...uh... be awake all night."

she merely tilts her head, nodding either way. she listens to your rambling about the tea and the coffee mugs you have, her eyes wandering your walls when she sees familiar art.

"did the children draw these?" she interrupts, taking one off the wall.

it's a rather rudimentary stick-figure drawing, but she can tell who each one represents. this is one of lynette's drawings. she's drawn herself with pretty blue bows, along with her brothers, and, of course, their father.

and you.

there you are, standing on the other side as if you were the mother to complete their family portrait.

"oh- those? yeah, the kids drew them for me... i thought they were really cute, so i kept them." you smile and her heart flutters.

she skims her fingers over the papers, pausing when she sees one from freminet. he's drawn a flower field of green scribbles and rainbow dots, the children playing on a swingset while you and arlecchino watch.

with the words 'mom' and 'dad' written above your heads.

she can hear you nervously talking to fill the silence, and she turns to you. "they really do seem to enjoy having you around." she murmurs. "as do i."

you look up at her, feeling her lean in, gently holding your waist. "am i being too forward?" she asks, breath fanning over the side of your face as you shiver.

"not at all-" you breathe out, trembling as she lifts your chin gently. she can see your anticipation.

"you're not phased by our gap in experience?" she asks. "it's inevitable. i cannot change it, but i do not want you to feel forced."

"i actually like it. i really like it." you blurt, catching her off guard.

"oh?" her voice is low, sultry as she cups your jaw. "is this alright with you, then?"

"please-" and that's all she needs to connect your lips, kissing you so softly at first. her tongue gently prods for entrance, and she can instantly tell you truly are inexperienced.

she pulls away, gently swiping a thumb over your cheek. "is this your first time?"

"you could tell?" you groan, and she nearly melts.

"it is not shameful to wait. i only want you to be sure this is what you want." she explains, stroking your cheek as your eyes flutter shut.

"i want you. please? i want you to take it." you leave it open for interpretation, but she knows exactly what you're referring to.

"if you're certain, then i'd be honored, sweetheart." she says so gently you'd think she was someone else.

you bring her to your room, cringing at the mess. "i know it isn't what you're used to but mmph-!" you whimper when she kisses you, pulling you onto her lap on the bed.

she trails kisses down your neck, watching you tilt your head back instinctively. you pant, overwhelmed so quickly she almost feels guilty.

keyword: almost.

instead, it makes her twitch within the confines of her expensive suit slacks.

her hand tangles into the back of your hair, tugging you firmly so she can nip at your jaw. she takes it slow, easing you into things until you're practically begging her to go further.

your dress slides off slowly, a treat waiting when she sees the pretty matching lingerie set beneath. it's white and lacy, delicate, something she could easily tear right off, and it drives her mad.

"aren't you full of surprises? naughty ones at that." she tuts, squeezing your jaw as you gasp.

she unclips the bra, her gently squeezing your breasts as you moan for her.

she teases your nipples until they go pert, wrapping her tongue around them as you arch up into her.

you're being vulnerable with her; she knows this much. she holds you steady, ensuring you feel safe on her lap before pulling away with a soft 'pop.'

she unbuttons her shirt, tugging it off to match you. she watches your eyes go wide, eager yet embarrassed as she tosses her bra aside with the shirt.

"you're so...pretty." you gasp quietly, eyes wide.

"you can touch me, sweetheart." she pulls your hand to her chest, allowing you to explore. your fingers clumsily rub her nipples and she grunts, guiding them into place.

"does it feel good?" you ask her so hesitantly, and she kisses the top of your head.

"you're doing well." she watches your gaze slide down, eyeing the growing bulge in her pants. she dryly grunts, lifting your chin up. "something catch your eye?"

"i... i'm sorry- i didn't mean to stare-" your words are mumbled, your face hot as your mouth goes dry.

"you're curious. that's alright." she brushes a thumb over your lips, coaxing you to open up.

she slides her thumb over your tongue, gently easing it a little further until you gag, keeping you just like that. your eyes are so wide and pretty, glazed over with untapped lust.

she hums thoughtfully before withdrawing, using the thumb to brush over the front of your panties. you gasp, thighs snapping shut as she pushes them back apart.

she lightly smacks your thigh. "keep them open." she rubs gentle circles on your clothed clit, your body clearly unsure how to react. she can see it doesn't take much to bring you to the edge, and she lightens her touch, able to control her own desires with ease.

her hand comes back to your lips, sliding your wetness over your tongue while her free hand slides your panties to the side.

something you've missed before, but she's filed her nails down on this hand. just for you, though only she knew that.

she gently slides her fingers through your folds, hearing you whimper and squirm on her lap. she tucks your head under her chin while she eases a finger into you, feeling you squeeze so tight around just one digit.

she gives you time to adjust, feeling you clutch her wrist. you're such an angel, aren't you? holding so tightly to her, so cute, all while you fidget right above her confined cock, inevitably making her grow harder.

her second finger slides in slowly, with an intent to stretch you out enough to take her cock more comfortably. she curls them inside of you, hearing you whine loudly into her neck.

"ah- that feels-!" you squeal when she brushes against your g-spot. her finger pads rub into it, and you tremble, thighs clamping down on her hand.

"relax." she reminds you, pumping her fingers in and out, slick sounds filling the air. she stretches you out every so often, spreading her fingers slightly and hearing you whimper so sweetly.

your hand clumsily rests on her bulge and her fingers still as she inhales sharply.

"i... want to- try and make you feel good too..." you whisper, looking up at her.

and who is she to deny such a sweet girl?

she pops open the button, unzipping her pants and freeing her cock, allowing you to see her.

your eyes go comically wide, shocked by the size. "that's... i-"

she can feel your walls fluttering around her fingers and she nearly moans. "it's alright. don't be nervous." she practically reads your mind, soothing your concerns as her free hand unwraps itself from your body, collecting some of the messy slick from your thighs, sliding it over herself.

"you haven't done this before, i presume?" she's met with a shake of your head. she proceeds to guide your hand in wrapping around her cock. she hisses through her teeth. "archons-" she groans lowly, her fingers resuming their gentle in and out motions while she guides you to stroke her cock.

"tighter." she tells you, feeling your hand grip more firmly, her pre-cum oozing over your hand, spreading across her cock. "good girl-" she praises and you clench around her fingers once more.

she says nothing, but she knows exactly how her words affect you. such a sweet little thing you are, curled up on her lap, fingers stuffed inside of you while your hand wraps around her cock.

her hand covers yours still, dwarfing your hand and guiding you into her preferred rhythm. "that's it. you're doing well-" she tips her head back, hips grinding into your hand as she lets go.

she allows you to move your hand on your own, finger-fucking you faster. she knows you're losing focus, too overwhelmed by your own need to cum, though she doesn't mind too much. you're just so sweet with how your moans pick up in volume, your eyes closing as your hips chase her hand.

"go on." she tells you, her voice stern as you release around her digits like such a good girl for her.

she slides her fingers out, admiring the webbed slick coating them, cleaning them in her own mouth as you shyly hide in her chest.

she pulls you away, laying you on the bed. "wait! you didn't get to..."

she shakes her head, pushing her hair back. "hush." she simply says, spreading your thighs, pushing them up to your chest. it exposes you perfectly, allowing you to feel shy, yet unable to cover yourself as she studies your twitchy cunt.

arlecchino uses one hand to guide herself through your slick, sensitive folds, gathering the remnants of your orgasm. she is gentle when she slides into you for the first time, a thumb on your stiff, swollen clit to ease the stretch.

she watches your eyebrows furrow, nose crinkling as she stretches you out. "so big-" you whine, chest arching up against her own.

your moans are melodies to her, feeling you flutter around her was like heaven. she lifts you up to sit on her lap while she leans back, guiding you to slowly take more of her in.

"too much!" you whine, looking down.

"you haven't taken all of me yet." she hushes you, easing you down to swallow her all in your pussy until you're mewling incoherently.

"full-" your head falls back and she grabs your hips, her nails leaving sharp little indents as she guides you to shallowly fuck yourself on her cock.

"such a pretty little thing." she coos, slowly growing more harsh, grinding up into you.

and, oh, you sing for her the rougher she gets. you urge her to grow bolder, now using your body as a toy while you desperately try to match her tempo.

you're inexperienced, but oh, so eager to please, aren't you? what a good girl.

she grabs your ass, fucking you on her cock while you keep a vice grip, your tits bouncing with each thrust. "oh- archons!" you squeal.

arlecchino picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, settling you beneath her instead, fucking into you with boundless energy.

she knows the right spots to fuck, where and how to grind herself into a woman, she knows exactly when to speed up and slow down. yet it seems you don't even know your own body fully.

and the thought of helping you explore with her is enough to have her twitching inside of you.

your incessant mewling and moaning of her name is driving her mad for you. her hand wraps around your throat, earning her breathless gasps as she urges you to cum for her.

"be a good little pet and cum." she orders, slick sounds penetrating the air, the smell of sex coating you both. "cum for me."

she rubs your clit harshly, watching you shake as you do cum, tightening up around her cock, sending her eyes rolling back into her head.

the moment you loosen up, she pulls out, cumming onto your tummy, creating a filthy mess as she moans deeply for you.

"fuck..." she sighs, squeezing her cock to ease the rest of her cum onto your skin.

you pant, looking up at her. your eyes are blown wide, but you look exhausted as you lay limply beneath her.

and, well, you'll soon learn her cock may need time to recover, but her mouth and fingers certainly don't...

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader - reader POV

You have a problem.

You miss your neighbor.

He's been gone for two and a half weeks, and every day you catch yourself holding your breath, listening for him next door. Watching for the light on his balcony, checking your phone relentlessly.

You've been worrying, anxiety turning into a gnawing ache beneath your ribs, wondering about how he is, what he's doing, if he's okay. If he's safe.

He'll text you. Right? When he's home? He said he would, didn't he? You're not sure. Not sure of anything when it comes to him, confusing thoughts and feelings turning over and over in your head every second, twisted up and tangled in your heart.

You've friend zoned yourself, you know it. Relying on him too much, asking him for help all the time, inviting him for dinners but too afraid to try to take the next step. And didn't you do it to yourself anyway? Didn't you ask him to babysit for you, so you could go out on a date with some asshole that didn't even show? He's your friend. He's your neighbor.

Yeah but he asked you to go for dinner, the night you were sick. And he rushed to you and Emma when that creep was following you in the park. Doesn't that mean something?

He asked you AND Emmaline to dinner, not like on a romantic date. And he did the same thing anyone would do, if they thought their friend was in trouble, didn't he?

He doesn't act like your neighbor. He acts more like... a husband, than anything else.

Not knowing is confusing, and on top of your grief, it makes you feel a little more vulnerable than you care to admit, but you can't deny your own truth. You like him. Even Emmaline likes him, little face smiling up at him every chance she gets, staring at him like he's the whole world. Maybe he is. You can't help but swoon over the way she interacts with him, how she settles so easily with him, how she coos and babbles at him like she's having a whole conversation with him. When he walks into a room, she lights up like the sun, happy baby giggles and everything, the sweet sounds of her glee at her favorite person's face like music to your ears. So unfair. You suffered for sixteen hours trying to give birth to her, alone... and he comes around for a few months and all the sudden you've been replaced.

You can't blame her too much, you guess. You get it. He's... something else. Something you're not sure you understand. Something you don't know you're ready for.

Still, you think he might feel the same way.

You shake your head. Stop. You're getting so far ahead of yourself.

Which is why you've convinced yourself that when he's home, the next time you see him, you're just going to buck up and do it. You're going to tell him how you feel. No matter how hard it is.

You've even practiced what you'll say. Staring at yourself in the mirror nervously, reciting different ways to say 'hey Simon I really like you and was wondering if you want to go out on a date even though I have a baby and am basically a widow.'

Emmaline cries, announcing that she's awake, and you're so quick to soothe her, holding her to your chest, whispering a good morning to her, rubbing her back and tummy as you always do. You think some people might say you're spoiling her, that you're not letting her cry long enough, that you're teaching her bad habits or manners but you can't help it. Her father died before she was even born. You're the only thing she has in this world, the only person that gives her love, that makes her feel safe-

or at least, you used to be.

You hear your neighbor in his flat hours and hours later. Well past sunset, Emmaline already sleeping in her crib, your dishes already done, little chores taken care of, and you're sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, watching a movie at a low hum.

Was that- is he?

You sit straight up, straining to listen. It takes a second, but eventually, you recognize the tell tale sound of an interior door closing, and then the balcony glows with the light from the inside.

He's home. You take a large gulp of wine, and a deep breath. Just go over there, and tell him how you feel.

Your fingers curl into a fist, hesitantly knocking at his door, holding your breath. When there's no response, you try again, a little louder, and then feel immense relief when the lock clicks.

Until it opens.

Simon doesn't look like himself. He looks lost. Haunted. There's remnant of black grease around his eyes and instead of being maskless or wearing the usual cloth one, his head is mostly covered by a balaclava bearing a skull, and his eyes are blank. Dark. Something is off.

"Hi." You squeak, and cringe inwardly, stomach flipping like you're on a carnival ride. You raise the two bottles of beer that you brought over with a meek smile, gesturing to them and the monitor. "Thought we could um... try this again?"

"No." His refusal is flat, rough, and you blink in surprise. No?

"Oh- I uh... just thought-"

"It's not a good time." He cuts you off, and then before you can even get another word out, the front door closes in your face, leaving you outside in the hall, bewildered. Hurt.

Guess he doesn't like you after all.

[sluts4matt]

chris fucking the silent treatment out of you?! like hello?! need it rnnnnn

SILENT TREATMENT

pairing: dom!chris x latina!reader

summary: you were known to be a bit petty, so giving your boyfriend the silent treatment wasn't out of your comfort zone. chis, however, decides he can't go more than a day without hearing your voice. no matter the way he's hearing it.

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, slight choking, praising, pet names

word count: 978

author's note: might honestly be one of my favorites. class project is all time at the moment though. i hope i did your request justice. don't be afraid to request more 🫶

"really, we're still doing this shit ma?" chris asks, walking into his bathroom as you were doing your skin care. you looked at him, pressing your lips in a thin line before going back to your face. "oh c'mon, i apologized already."

you didn't respond, only continuing to lather your face with a cleanser. chris rolled his eyes, watching you through the mirror. you were supposed to have a small date, nothing too big. he promised since he had been busy recently.

but once again, he had to cancel because he was needed at the warehouse. it was a stupid reason not to be talking to chris. you knew that nick told you that last night. but you didn't care.

chris huffed, "so what, i can't do anything to get you to talk to me again?"

you put down the product in your hand, turning to look at him. chris' face brightened up, expecting a response. but fell again when you pushed past him to grab a rag from the rack.

he shook his head, "so you're gonna keep playing like this? not responding or looking at me." again, no answer. you were going to continue your routine as if he wasn't in the room with you.

"no fucking way," chris said, grabbing you by the wrist and spinning you around. "stop being a brat and talk to me ma, wanna hear that pretty fucking voice," he says, bringing your hand up to his mouth.

he places a kiss on your wrist, keeping his eyes on yours. you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to remain unbothered. "really, no words?" he questions. you shake your head, moving your hand back.

"that's okay, i got ways to make you speak," he smirks. next thing you know you were being turned around, and your pajama pants and underwear were being tugged down. your heart dropped, and your legs were pressed together.

chris' hands gripped your hips, pushing you against the sink. "spread for me, ma," he says, slapping the inside of your thigh.

you did as you were told, biting your lip to silence yourself. his hands gripped your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands as he stood behind you. one of his hands worked at his sweats while the other pushed your cheek against the cool, marble counter top.

your ass was in the air, and chris was admiring the view. "i know you got a voice in there, so don't hold back on me baby," he says, lining his cock up to your pussy. the tip nudged your clit, causing you to shudder.

one of your arms goes near your mouth, you teeth latching onto the flesh as he pushes himself in, stretching you out. "shit, so fuckin' tight for me," chris grunts, bottoming out. his pelvis was pressed against your ass, his body was leaning over yours.

"don't even need lube for you, huh?" he chuckled mockingly, "always so fucking wet for me," he adds. his hand reaches for your hair, fisting it before yanking your head up.

you gasp at the pain, feeling his tip push further into you. "now, let me hear that voice," he growls, pulling out and slamming back into you. you shake your head the best you can as you bite down on your lips. the familiar metallic taste filling your senses.

"so, that's how it's gonna be," chris chuckles, "okay." his hips begin to pick up the pace, his other hand digging into the skin of your left leg as he lifts it onto the counter. the new angle having him hit a different part of you that hasn't been hit before.

a muffled moan slips through, but chris still caught it. "there she is," he grins, pulling your hair more as his hips slap against your ass. the lewd sound of his hips meeting yours along with the squelch of your pussy fills the room.

his hand that was holding your leg leaves, landing a hard slap on your ass. the sudden sting made you cry out. "sound so pretty," chris praised, "let me hear it all, ma."

with a nod of your head, he begins to pound into you, making your head bounce as he slams his cock into you. your eyes begin to water, the pleasure and pain mixing together. "fuck, fuck so good," you babble, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach.

chris chuckles, "look so pretty, taking my cock like this. think you can take it harder baby?" he asks, and you quickly nod. his grip on your hair loosens, and his other hand grabs your shoulder as his hips begin to snap against yours harder than before.

tears streamed down your cheeks as you cried out, nothing but loud whines and pornographic moans leaving your lips. his grip was sure to leave bruises, and your scalp was throbbing.

the coil was becoming too much, and you felt yourself coming undone. "c-chris," you cry, "i'm cumming, shit i'm cumming." the words left your lips in a babble, your cunt clenching around him. "cum on my dick, baby. fuck yes," he grunts, his hips never faltering.

your body went limp in his hold, you eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open. he fucked you through the orgasm, his own not far behind. a few more thrusts and he was pulling out, stroking his dick as he released on your ass.

your knees buckled, but his arm held you up. "gonna talk to me now, ma?" he breathed, his chest heaving as the two of you caught your breath. you nodded your head, a smile tugging on your lips.

"good, let's go get you cleaned up," he says, spinning around and lifting you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist, your head resting on his shoulder as he carried you to the shower.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @lily-strnlo @etvar12 @iloveurgf @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @mayhem-72 @nicksmainbitch @sturniolowhore

[ellecdc]

PART 2 PLSSSSSSSSSSS

I need the comfort

ok ok ok ok ok mother's here - I've fixed it for you. Don't say I never did anything for ya 😉

part two of Mistake: poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: angst, hurt and COMFORT read part one here

Remus felt like he’d just been slapped. In fact, he was sure that if he looked in a mirror, he would see a red welt in the shape of your hand across his cheek. 

Lupin?

You haven’t called him that since...well since you started dating. As a matter of fact, he can’t remember the last time you referred to him in any way other than some sickly-sweet pet name that he pretended embarrassed him, but he secretly preened at. 

I’ll see you around.

What the hell did that mean? What just happened?

He felt stuck...perhaps he should go after you? But you told him to go check on Sirius: make sure he’s okay for me, yeah? And he meant what he had said – the three of you would be back to normal in no time. They’d catch up with you tomorrow.

Remus tried to replay every interaction you had tonight. You had asked how their days were...he replied and asked how yours was. Should he have asked you first?

He should have asked you first.

You tried making conversation, but Remus was so hyper focused on Sirius’ mood – afraid that he’d do or say something out of pocket that would hurt your feelings – that each attempt sort of fell flat. Remus had been there before – he’s witnessed Sirius’ tendency to self-sabotage and ruin a good thing once he finally has it, and he didn’t want that to happen again. Not with you.

He knew what Sirius really needed was some quiet; a chance to ponder and lament angrily inside his own head without outside influence.

Maybe they should have cancelled – rescheduled your study date for another time. Clearly his effort to protect you from any negativity was in vain.  

But it was just a bad day, a blip, a one-off. You would all get some good sleep tonight and reconvene tomorrow.

Right?

Maybe he should have followed you.

But by the time he could manage to pry his feet from the floor of the library that he felt cemented to, you were gone. 

He would just have to talk it out with you tomorrow.

Remus entered his dorm to find Peter already asleep on his bed, James finishing the Transfiguration essay that was due tomorrow morning on his own bed, and both Remus and Sirius’ beds empty. 

“Pads around?” Remus asked James quietly as he began to shuck off his uniform. The quiet tone was mostly for courtesy’s sake knowing Peter could sleep through a stampede of hippogriffs.

James peered at Remus from above his glasses before nodding his head towards the bathroom door.

Sure enough, Remus found Sirius leaning against the shower stall with his eyes closed as the water cascaded around his form. 

“You almost done, love?” Remus asked gently. Sirius spooked slightly as he turned to look at Remus; his eyes were red and glossy...he had been crying.

“You didn’t stay with her?”

Remus fought the urge to grimace, to heave, to turn around and run. He opted to gently shake his head. “No, she... said she got most of what she needed to do done.”

Sirius seemed to consider that as he sighed. “Was she terribly upset? I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be an ass. I know James always says I’m quick to take it out on others – I tried really hard not to, honest. I swear it, Rem I-”

Remus began shaking his head as he moved towards Sirius. He could tell by the smell in the bathroom that Sirius had already washed his hair and there were no more suds on his body, so he turned the water off and handed Sirius a towel. 

“You were fine, Sirius. She’s – she’s fine.” He lied.

He lied. He lied to Sirius. About you.

But how could he look Sirius in the eye right now – Sirius who was currently standing naked, soaking wet, nearly hyperventilating, not over his disgusting parents but because he was afraid that he may have upset you – and tell him that between the maybe seven minutes since Sirius had left the library and now, Remus had completely mucked it all up?

The answer was: he couldn’t. He couldn’t look Sirius in the eye and admit that he may have just sabotaged your relationship.

It’s going to be fine. He tried to tell himself. We’ll fix this all tomorrow.

You felt beyond childish, hiding in your dorm room like some toddler throwing a temper tantrum. But you had decided last night that what you really needed was space. Some breathing room. A chance to see this from a different lens. A different perspective.

And you couldn’t do that when your heart was breaking. And being around Remus and Sirius felt like that right now.

It felt heart breaking. 

And perhaps that was your answer right there. If this was causing you heart ache, why were you doing it to yourself? To them? You didn’t deserve that, and neither did they.

But it wasn’t just this you were worried about. It was more than just this relationship – it was the friendship that preceded it. It was the meshing of you into their circle of friends. You were their friend long before you were ever their girlfriend. You wouldn’t just be losing Remus and Sirius: your boyfriend’s; you’d also be losing Remus and Sirius: your friend’s.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you said yes.

Suddenly, you were a little angry: they had asked you to be their girlfriend – not the other way around! Why would they put you through all of this for, what? For...

Was it really for nothing?

“Are you coming to breakfast?” Shelby asked you quietly from the door. You shifted your head on the pillow to make eye contact with her. “No, I’ve got some things to work on. I think I’ll hang out up here today.”

She seemed to consider you, eyes squinting and mouth pursing before she offered a curt nod. “I’ll bring something back for you then.”

You smiled gratefully at her. At least you knew if you did lose Remus and Sirius, you would still have friends who cared about you. 

Sirius spent most of his life believing he’d never be worthy of nice things. He was raised by monsters which meant he was a product of monsters; he was basically a monster.

He knew that the Black Darkness was always simmering just below the surface. It was archetypal of Black’s to explode; to lace their words with venom and strike at their victim, always aiming for the jugular. It had been Sirius’ own M.O. for his whole life. He had nearly lost everyone who ever meant anything to him on account of it. He had almost lost Moony.

Which is why it was so important to him that you never end up the latest victim of his Black Darkness. He was so afraid of disappointing you, letting you down, making you feel unloved. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to live with himself if he slipped – if he said something or did something to make you hate him. 

And it wasn’t just you he was worried about hurting; he knew if he hurt you, Remus would likely never forgive him.

Remus may have forgiven Sirius for his Darkness once; he didn’t want to risk trying for a second time. Sirius felt he’d hit his threshold for forgiveness – one more sin and he’d be on his own, surely.

So, he walked away. He tried to do it nicely – to excuse himself politely, assure you he’d be back in no time. 

But he still left.

It was cowardly. 

He needed to talk to you.

Which is why Sirius could be found that morning sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, knee bouncing frantically under the table and his body turned towards the entrance – waiting for you to make an appearance.

Except, you never came.

“Wait, Shelby just walked in without her. Where is she?” He asked despondently, turning towards Remus. 

Remus watched as Shelby and a few of your other friends sat at their usual places without you. “Come on.” He said quickly as the two of them stood and made their way over.

“Hey Shelby. Do you know where Y/N is?” Remus asked quietly, hoping his guilt didn’t permeate his tone. Unfortunately, under Shelby’s scrutinizing glance, he was sure he had been found out. 

“She’s in the dorm.” She said flatly, looking between the two boys. 

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus before continuing. “Erm, do you...do you know why?” 

Shelby furrowed her brows “all she said was she had ‘some things to work on’ and that she’d be in the room today.”

Remus hissed under his breath and pulled Sirius aside.

“Pads, I’m sorry, but I think-”

“What is going on?” Sirius interrupted.

“Last night, I... I think Y/N was upset?”

“Upset? With me?” Sirius asked, shame worming its way through every cell in his body. 

“I don’t know. I... I don’t think so. But she...she said she’d ‘see me around’ and then called me Lupin.” 

All blood drained from Sirius’ face as he considered Remus’ words.

See him around...see him around!? What the hell did that mean? Did you not plan on seeing them again? Oh gods...you never planned on seeing them again.

“Rem...” Sirius breathed out, leaning against a pillar for support.

“I know, I don’t-”

“Good grief, what’s gotten into you two?” James commented as he walked into the Great Hall with Lily, who opted to carry on in her search for Regulus as James took in the state of his two friends.

“Well? What’s got you in such a twist?” He pressed when neither boy offered an explanation.

“It’s Y/N.” Remus admitted.

“She’s leaving us.” Sirius blurted.

“Okay, we don’t know that.” Remus conceded.

Sirius scoffed. “Well, she basically told you to go fuck yourself last night and now she’s avoiding us; what do you call that?”

“She didn’t tell me to go fuck myself!”

James groaned and rolled his eyes before grabbing Remus and Sirius’ shirts and dragging them over to the Slytherin table.

“That’s it. You guys need to talk to Regulus.” James muttered.

“Regulus?!” Sirius sputtered, looking at James incredulously. “I’m not asking my baby brother for relationship advice.”

“You’re not asking for relationship advice. You’re asking for his perspective on his own relationship.”

“Ew! That’s worse! I don’t want to hear about my baby brother’s relationship with my adoptive brother.” 

“Oh for- you are going to listen to Regulus’ perspective on what it’s like being added to a polyamorous relationship last.” James pressed, tone implying no nonsense. 

Sirius (unwillingly) and Remus (placidly) were dragged to the dark side (read: the Slytherin table) to be read their Miranda Rights have their asses handed to them by one Regulus Arcturus Black. 

“Reg, dear. I’m begging, pleading, on my hands and knees: put the poor sods out of their misery.” James said as he bodily sat Remus and Sirius on the bench across from Regulus.

Lily snickered and poked her nose into Regulus’ cheek, causing the youngest Black to blush, though the rest of his face remained stoic as he sized Sirius and Remus up.

“What have the two of you done now?” He drawled. “I can’t help but notice one third – arguably the better third - of your little trio is missing.”

Sirius scoffed, though he didn’t argue – Regulus wasn’t wrong per se; he loved Moony, but you were indeed the best of the bunch.

James cleared his throat pointedly as he shot Remus and Sirius a look.

“Right, er” Remus started awkwardly. “We seem to have, uhm. I mean to say that-”

“Why does Y/N hate us?” Sirius spat, slapping a hand over his mouth immediately afterwards as if those words had fallen from his mouth without his consent.

“Y/N? As in your girlfriend, Y/N?” Regulus asked, moving his eyes between his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

“Yes, as in our girlfriend.” Remus muttered.

“What did you say to offend her?” James asked unhelpfully.

“Do you think if we knew that, we’d be here right now?” Sirius spat back. 

“No, I don’t think that.” Regulus answered for him. “What I think has probably happened is she’s feeling terribly insecure in your relationship and neither of you have done anything to help her.”

Well that shut Sirius up... Sirius noticed that Remus was pretty quiet too.

“Were...” Sirius asked, grimacing when he looked over at Lily and James knowing this was teetering slightly into the realm of things-he-doesn’t-really-want-to-know-about-his-brother’s-relationship-with-his-best-friend territory. But damnit, Sirius was as desperate man. And desperate times called for desperate measures. “Were you terribly insecure when you started dating...these two?” Sirius sneered the end of his sentence earning him a ‘hey!’ from Lily and a solid whack up the back of the head from James.

“Yes.” Regulus answered simply.

“Why?” Remus asked, looking desperately close to pulling out his notebook to take notes. Scratch that, Sirius watched as James swallowed a teasing remark when Remus actually pulled out a notebook to take notes. 

“It’s hard coming after. There’s a part of your brain that convinces you that you are second best; that you’ve somehow come in second place. If that’s not bad enough, then you begin spending time with two people who already have history, already have a connection, and already have a rhythm that doesn’t leave much room to pull you into the mix. And if it does pull you into the mix, you end up feeling terribly guilty for disrupting that rhythm. It’s all quite difficult.”

Sirius’ mouth hung open at Regulus’ demure tone on what sounded like a really heartbreaking situation. 

“Let me ask you this,” Regulus continued, unawares of Sirius’ inner dialogue (which consisted mostly of panicked ‘oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods). “How has your relationship – between the two of you – changed since you added a third?”

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance before looking back at Regulus. “Uhm...not, really?”

“Not much at all.” Remus admitted more clearly.

“I see...” Regulus said, narrowing his gaze. “And how much time have each of you spent with her individually without the other present?”

Regulus got his answer in the form of awkward silence. 

“How did either of you expect your relationship to work if neither of you were willing to change the nature of yours in order to help it grow?” Regulus spat. 

“Well...” Remus started, but his sentence died when he realized there was nothing to say. 

“But...you stayed? Why?” Sirius asked his brother.

At this, Regulus’s face fell as he gave Sirius a sad smile. “Because of how we were raised, Sirius. I was so excited to be wanted, even for a moment, that I was willing to beg for scraps of whatever I could sink my claws into. She doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

James and Lily looked forlorn as the latter placed her hand on Regulus’ shoulder consolingly. 

“It didn’t hurt to have the walking definition of unconditional love and the smartest, most intuitive witch I know to notice any discontent on my part.” He admitted shyly, earning him a smack of a kiss on the cheek from James.

“Gross. You guys are sickening.” Sirius muttered petulantly.

“So?” Lily interrupted what was close to becoming a squabble between the two Black brothers. “What are you guys going to do?”

Remus sported a determined expression as he looked to Sirius. “We’re going to make it right.”

Shelby stood by her word and brought your breakfast. She also brought you lunch, and then dinner. But by the following morning, she was tired of playing the role of house elf.

“Alright, are you going to tell me why you’re avoiding Lupin and Black?” She asked plainly, plopping herself down uninvited onto your bed.

“Wha-? I’m ... I’m not avoiding them.” You lied poorly.

“Please; don’t spit on my muffin and call it frosting, Y/N. You’re obviously avoiding them.”

“I...ew?”

She groaned and fell onto her back in defeat. “Please, for all that is holy, tell me why they’ve been following me around like kicked puppies hoping I’ll take them to their master?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your book that you held open but had never been reading. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re real upset.” You muttered.

“That’s it.” She spat and plucked your book out of your hands, throwing it over her shoulder unceremoniously. You cringed to think about how Remus would feel seeing a book treated in such a way.

“I was reading that!”

“Don’t lie to me again.” She said, levelling you with a ‘no nonsense’ look. “Spill.”

You sighed deeply, looking toward the window to try and find the words you’d spent the last 24 hours trying to formulate. She never rushed you for your answer, giving you all the time you needed. 

“I feel insignificant.” You admitted finally.

“And?”

You turned to face her, bemusement painting your features. “What do you mean, and?”

“And... have you spoken to them about it?”

You felt a little embarrassed to admit that no, you hadn’t.

“Why not?”

And that simple question seemed to set off all the emotions (mostly frustration) that simmered beneath your surface.

“Because Shelby. Because I don’t want to have to beg for love and affection. I don’t want to have to tell people how to love me; they should just already love me. I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding in someone else’s relationship. I don’t want to have to point out that I’m here and I’m hurting. It’s mortifying. I... I think I’m just done.”

Shelby nodded in understanding before she stood from your bed. “Then you need to finish this today. No more hiding in your room being angry by yourself, and no more letting them sniff around the castle like dejected little runts. Put all three of you out of your misery.” 

It was your turn to nod as you too stood from your bed, ready to face possibly one of the most heartbreaking days of your life.

But Shelby was right; it was time. 

The worst part was that Shelby had been telling the truth; Remus and Sirius did look like kicked puppies. 

The second you had entered the Great Hall you heard a crash of knees against benches and cutlery clashing as Sirius clumsily tried to vacate his seat in record time to make it over to you.

“Y/N!” He called, as if you could have missed the racket he made just prior. 

He looked gaunt – like he hadn’t eaten or slept enough (in the only less than 48 hours) since you’d seen him last. His eyes were red and a little swollen, like he’d been rubbing at them.

You immediately felt sick with guilt; if he really was struggling with things with his family, the last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. But Sirius was looking after himself, and Remus was looking after him too; someone needed to think about you. You had to look after yourself.

Remus didn’t look much better, approaching the two of you much more slowly, hardly making eye contact with you as if you’d lash out at any moment. You had to admit that it annoyed you a little bit.

“Hi Sirius.” You offered, voice grating over the sudden tightness. “Remus.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave Remus’ shoulders as he made an effort to make eye contact with you.

“Can we talk?” He asked timidly. 

You knew what was coming, what was happening, what you yourself had come here planning to do.

But it broke your heart nonetheless.

“Sure.” You whispered, and exited the Great Hall without waiting to see if they were following you. 

You walked into an empty classroom and leaned against one of the walls as Remus and Sirius closed the door behind them. They shared another look and stood opposite of you.

More secret conversations. You thought bitterly. And doesn’t this just paint a lovely picture; them versus you. 

“Y/N. We, uhm...we’ve been talking, and we realized that...that maybe we haven’t gone about this the right way.” Sirius started, looking at Remus continuously as he addressed you. 

We’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“We didn’t take into account the ways in which our relationship would have to change in order to make the three of us work” Remus added.

We didn’t realize how much you’d take away from us, you heard

“We feel like we’ve been unfair to you, and... we’re really sorry.” Sirius concluded, looking like his heart had been ripped out of his rib cage. You supposed that would make sense, considering that’s how you currently felt yourself.

It probably hurt all the same to them – they’d be losing the friendships the three of you had created too; the friendship you had with Remus, the friendship you had with Sirius, and the fun the three of you had all together. But you still loved them, and the last thing you wanted to do was to interfere in their relationship.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” You admitted finally. “It was just a mistake.”

Remus’ head cocked to the side like a confused puppy whilst Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed. “Well...I, I’m not sure-” Remus started but was cut off by Sirius.

“Wait, Y/N, what exactly do you think the mistake was?”

You looked between the two of them as you lifted your shoulder. “I... I guess including me?” You stated as a question.

Sirius actually sputtered as Remus stepped towards you, stopping himself seemingly before he made to grab you.

“No! No, Dove. That’s not a mistake!” He insisted.

“Are you kidding? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us – no, no. This...wow, okay. Can we start from the beginning, please? Why do you think this was a mistake?” Sirius managed to (barely) get out.

You looked to the ceiling, eyes stinging at the reality of having to voice your hurt. “Because” your voice came out embarrassingly high. “Because it-it felt...better when we were friends. I didn’t feel...in the way. And it felt easier. Just - I didn’t mean to come in between you, and I never...” you cut yourself off, quickly moving into hyperventilating territory. 

“But-”

“It’s not a mistake!” Sirius shouted, cutting Remus off. “This wasn’t a mistake! You weren’t a mistake. I... okay. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, that’s true. But I don’t consider that a mistake. Not you, never you.”

“It was a surprise; a happy accident.” Remus added hopefully shy.

You felt drunk...dizzy...beyond confused. Weren’t they breaking up with you? Weren’t you supposed to be breaking up with them!?

“I think it was easier when we were friends because we weren’t putting so much pressure on ourselves to get this right.” Sirius explained.

Remus nodded and continued. “Sirius used to get so jealous if I got to hang out with you without him if he was at practice – took us a while to figure out that it was because he wished he was the one hanging out with you. When we started dating, I guess Sirius and I figured we’d just make sure to always hangout with you together so that neither of us felt left out. But we never even thought about how that must’ve been making you feel, dove. I’m so sorry.” 

“Regulus read us our rights.” Sirius admitted abashedly. “He pointed out that the relationship between the three of us will only work if our relationships with each other are strong. And we didn’t make our individual relationships with you a priority – that was our mistake, Y/N. Not you.” 

“Our mistake was believing you would just ‘catch up’ to where we are – which is years in the making – and also expecting you to somehow do that on your own. It was selfish and thoughtless.” Remus stressed

The things they were saying made sense and spoke to your very soul, but you couldn’t shake off this lingering feeling of dread.

“I... I should have said something... about how I was feeling.”

Sirius sighed, but it was Remus who spoke. “I think all of us could have done a better job communicating, that’s true. But we should have been more considerate. We asked you to join us, dove; we should have made that easy for you to do.”

“To think how much grief we’ve caused ourselves, when we could have just solved this all with a conversation.” Sirius mumbled dejectedly. 

“We’re not too late, are we? To solve this?” Remus asked quietly. Sirius’ eyes looked like they were close to popping out of his skull as he stood and made for you, grabbing your hands pleadingly.

“Oh gods, Y/N. You... you were breaking up with us, weren’t you? You thought we were breaking up with you?” His voice sounded very close to a sob.

“Please...please dove I- I don’t know that we deserve it, but please give us a chance to make this right, to do this properly. Give us a chance to love you the way you deserve.” Remus begged, moving to stand in front of you with Sirius, though he controlled his urge to grab your hands. 

You looked between the two boys; the two boys who you’ve been basically in love with for so long – the two boys who have proclaimed to feel the same way about you - and wondered to yourself again:

Have we made a terrible mistake?

Remus’ golden eyes shimmered with compassion and warmth, and Sirius burned fiercely in devotion and promises.  

Had you made a mistake? Falling in love with them?

No.

Perhaps Remus was right. Perhaps this was a happy accident.

“Okay.” You whispered. Remus exhaled the breath he’d been holding while Sirius’ face morphed into a small, hopeful kind of smile – far shyer than you were used to seeing from the boy.

“Okay?” He asked, moving his hands up from your wrists to your shoulders.

“Yeah... I-I don’t want to lose you guys.” You admitted wetly, a tear betraying you as it fell down your cheek. Sirius was quick to catch it with his thumb.

“Never, dove. Not if I can help it.” Remus promised. 

You believed him.  

taglist: @cyripticchronicler @orphicmortala @hcqwxrtss123 @ssc7514 @misacc08 @ashie-babie @milkyasteroids, @maqqiekwon @daisiesformylove @littlenerdybee @allllium

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 3

Summary: after that night, no matter what you do, no matter what you say, no one believes you. You're done. You want to quit being his therapist but you still haven't seen the worst part...

Warning: paranoia, abuse, mental illness.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 2, PART 4

It had been days since that night—days since the dead doves, the blood on the walls, the police visit to the Targaryen home. Days since Y/N last felt normal.

Now, the walls of her apartment seemed to close in on her. The curtains remained drawn, blocking out the light of day. The once-cozy space was now a prison, suffocating her with silence, except for the incessant scratching at the back of her mind. The feeling of being watched, of not being alone. Every creak, every whisper of wind against the windows made her jump.

She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. Her body felt weak, and her mind was clouded in a haze of paranoia. Her hair was greasy, her skin pale and blotchy. Dark circles framed her eyes—eyes that were wide with fear, darting around the room, always expecting him. Expecting Aegon to appear from the shadows. She had stopped showering, afraid that if she closed her eyes for even a second, he’d be there when she opened them. Her reflection in the mirror was foreign, ghostly, a stranger trapped in a body consumed by terror.

And her boyfriend…he was tired. More than tired. He was done.

"Y/N, for fuck's sake, you have to stop this," he snapped, his voice breaking the silence like glass shattering on the floor. He stood in the kitchen, staring at her with a mix of frustration and pity, while she sat at the edge of the couch, her legs pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them.

"You don’t believe me. You never believe me,” she muttered, her voice hoarse from days of crying, of pleading. "I saw him. It was him. I know it was him." Her eyes were wild, flicking toward the corners of the room as though Aegon might materialize from the shadows at any moment.

Jacob sighed, rubbing his temples. "Y/N, we've been over this a thousand times. The cops checked him out. There was nothing—nothing—to suggest he did anything. No evidence, no signs, nothing. He’s just some guy going through a rough time, and you're his therapist. You’ve taken this too far."

She flinched at his words, the sting of them sinking into her chest. "No…you don’t get it. You don’t see him like I do. He’s dangerous. I’m not safe. He knows where I live. He wants me." Her voice trembled as she spoke, each word a desperate plea for him to understand.

But he didn’t. He was tired of this, of her, of everything.

"You're obsessed, Y/N. Obsessed with this guy. You spend all your time thinking about him, talking about him, dreaming up this whole fucking scenario in your head like you're the main character of some horror movie. But this isn't a movie—this is real life, and you're making shit up!" His voice grew louder, angrier with every word, his patience long gone.

Y/N shook her head, her body trembling. "I'm not making it up. You have to believe me—please. I’m not crazy. I’m not—"

"Yes, you are!" He cut her off, his face twisted with frustration. "You’re fucking crazy, Y/N! Years of being a therapist have finally caught up with you. You’ve absorbed all the bullshit from your patients, and now you’re projecting it onto this guy. Aegon didn’t do anything to you—he’s just some poor bastard who had the misfortune of being assigned to you."

Her stomach lurched at his words. The pain of his accusation was worse than anything she’d felt before. It was like a knife twisting inside her, carving out the last remnants of hope she’d clung to. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.

"I'm not crazy," she whispered, her voice broken, fragile. She didn’t even recognize herself anymore.

Jacob slammed his hand on the counter, his eyes blazing with frustration. "Then why are you acting like it? Why can’t you just let this go? You're ruining your life—our life—because you’re so fixated on this guy. You won’t eat, you won’t sleep, you’re a fucking mess, Y/N! I can't keep doing this! Every time I try to help you, you just spiral deeper into this delusion!"

Tears streamed down her face, but she barely felt them. "I’m not delusional," she repeated, but her voice cracked, betraying her.

"Yes, you are!" He shouted, stepping closer, his face red with anger. "You’re making this shit up because you’re obsessed with him. Admit it! You’re obsessed with Aegon. You’ve let him get into your head, and now you’re the one who’s losing it."

"No!" she cried, her voice raw. "I’m not obsessed with him! I don’t care about him like that! I’m scared—he’s going to hurt me! I know he is!"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, give me a break. You’ve been so wrapped up in this guy, you probably want him to do something, just so you can play the victim. Just so you can have some sick thrill of being the center of his attention. It’s pathetic, Y/N."

His words felt like a slap in the face, each one tearing at her like claws. She stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to believe that this was happening—that he was saying these things to her. The one person who was supposed to protect her, to believe her, had turned against her.

"I can’t do this anymore," he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with anger. "I can’t keep pretending that you're okay, because you're not. You need help. Professional help. Maybe you should check yourself into a fucking psych ward, because right now, you’re acting like a fucking lunatic."

Her breath hitched in her throat. The room seemed to spin around her, her vision blurring with tears. "How can you say that?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "How can you say that to me?"

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly done with the conversation. "Because it's the truth. And deep down, you know it. You're spiraling, Y/N. And I’m not going to stand here and let you drag me down with you."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. She felt as though the world had collapsed around her, the last piece of her sanity slipping away.

"Fine," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you think I’m crazy…then just go. Leave me."

He stared at her for a long moment, the anger still simmering in his eyes. Then, without another word, he turned and stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Y/N alone in the dark.

And for the first time in days, the silence felt more dangerous than ever.

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, her eyes red and swollen from sleepless nights. She hadn’t heard from her boyfriend in days, and each missed call had sent her deeper into a pit of despair. But today was different. Today was the day she would finally face Aegon.

Her hands shook as she brushed her hair, her fingers trembling with every stroke. Her reflection looked haggard—dark circles under her eyes, skin pale and sickly. She barely recognized herself, but she needed to pull it together. She had to pull it together.

"He’s just a man," she whispered to herself, her voice shaky but determined. "Just a man… I’m in control. I have to be in control. I can’t let him win."

Her eyes flickered toward the closet. She needed to choose something to wear, something that made her feel strong, confident. Something that would hide how utterly broken she felt inside.

She reached for a black turtleneck, one of the few pieces of clothing that didn’t feel too vulnerable, too exposed. The fabric clung to her body in a way that was both comforting and suffocating, but she convinced herself it was armor. Something to shield her from the weight of Aegon’s gaze. She paired it with dark jeans and boots, feeling the weight of each step as she slipped them on.

"It’s just another session," she muttered, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail. "I’m going to confront him. I’m going to tell him it’s over. He can’t do this to me anymore."

She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to find some semblance of the person she used to be. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink, her knuckles white from the pressure.

"You're not crazy," she told herself, her voice stronger this time. "He’s messing with you, but you can stop this. You can end this. Just get through today, and then you’re done. You’ll quit. You’ll never have to see him again."

Her heart raced at the thought of being in the same room with him again, but she forced herself to breathe.

"In and out," she whispered, taking a deep breath. "Just…in and out. You can do this. You have to do this."

She tried to picture how it would go. She’d walk into the room, sit across from him like she always did, but this time, she wouldn’t let him get to her. She wouldn’t let his twisted words sink into her skin like poison.

"I’m the therapist," she reminded herself, pacing back and forth now, her boots tapping against the hardwood floor. "I’m the one in control. He’s just a patient. He’s just…" She trailed off, the image of Aegon’s wide eyes and the way he had silently told her to shut up flashing in her mind.

She shook her head, trying to push the memory away. "No, no… Don’t think about that. You’re stronger than this. You’re not scared of him. You can quit. You can walk away."

But her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. She stared at them, willing them to be steady. "Breathe," she muttered, forcing another deep breath into her lungs. "Just breathe."

She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, the weight grounding her for a moment. "You’ve got this," she whispered one last time, trying to convince herself.

But as she headed for the door, the creeping sense of dread wrapped around her, cold and suffocating.

Y/N sat at her desk, staring at the door, the silence of the room pressing in on her. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and the knot of anger in her chest only grew tighter. She gripped the edge of her desk, her fingers turning white. She was done with Aegon. Done with his games, his manipulations, his stalking. Today, she was ready to confront him—she was ready to make him understand that she wasn’t going to be his victim anymore.

The memory of the dead doves, the blood, still haunted her. Every night, she barely slept, feeling like his eyes were on her, even when she knew she was alone. And yet, despite all of it, he had gotten away with it. He had made her look crazy, gaslighted her in front of the police and her boyfriend, made her question her own reality. But not anymore. Today, she was taking control. Today, she would end it.

Her jaw clenched as she imagined him walking through the door, with that smug, twisted grin. Her mind raced with the confrontation she had been playing over and over in her head. She would scream at him, shout at him until he admitted what he had done. Until he finally stopped pretending to be some innocent victim.

The minutes dragged on, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at the clock. And then, finally, the door creaked open.

Aegon stepped in, but something was different. He wasn’t the man she was used to seeing—there was no smirk, no defiance. He looked… broken. Shattered.

Her eyes widened in shock. His face was a mess of bruises, swollen and discolored, with dark bags hanging under his bloodshot eyes. His clothes were disheveled, stained with dirt and blood. He walked with a limp, his steps small and hesitant, like every movement hurt him. His hands were clasped tightly together in front of him, shaking as they fidgeted against each other. He kept his head down, glancing around the room like a trapped animal, flinching at every noise, every movement.

Y/N blinked, completely taken aback. This wasn’t the Aegon she knew—the arrogant, unhinged man who had stalked her, terrorized her. No, this was something else, something… disturbing. He looked like someone who had been run over, like life had chewed him up and spat him out, and now he stood there, fearful and fragile.

For a split second, she felt something almost like pity creep into her chest. But then she remembered who he was. What he had done. And the anger surged back to the forefront.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

He didn’t answer. He just stood there, eyes darting around, avoiding her gaze. His lips trembled, but no words came out.

She slammed her hands on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. "Aegon!" she snapped. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What kind of game are you playing now?"

At the sound of her raised voice, Aegon jumped, visibly flinching. His body curled inward like he was trying to make himself smaller, his shoulders hunching as his knees gave way. He dropped to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth like a scared child.

Y/N’s anger faltered for a moment, replaced by confusion and a creeping sense of dread. "Aegon, what the hell is going on?" she asked again, but this time her voice was quieter, uncertain.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he started muttering under his breath, his voice shaky and broken. "What’s the matter?" he whispered, his words barely audible. "What’s the matter, Aegon?"

Her heart sank as she realized he wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to… himself? His voice trembled as he repeated the words, like a broken record. "What’s the matter, Aegon? No. I’m not gonna hurt you. Come here. Come on. What’s the matter?"

Y/N felt her stomach twist as the phrases spilled out of his mouth over and over again, each repetition more unsettling than the last. It wasn’t Aegon’s voice. It was someone else’s, echoing through his broken mind.

She watched in horror as he hugged his knees tighter, his entire body trembling. "I’m not gonna hurt you, Aegon. See? That wasn’t bad," he whispered, tears streaming down his bruised face. "That wasn’t bad. That wasn’t bad."

It hit her like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t some act, some manipulation. Aegon had been abused—horribly, painfully, to the point where his mind had fractured. And now, as he sat on the floor, shaking and crying, he was reliving it. Over and over again.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had never seen him like this. She had never imagined this side of him—the scared, broken side. The side that had been hurt so deeply that he could only repeat the words of his abuser like a mantra.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her hands shaking as she stood there, unsure of what to do. Part of her still hated him—still wanted to scream at him, to blame him for everything. But another part of her… felt something else. Something terrifying and sad.

She knelt down beside him, her voice soft and hesitant. "Aegon…"

He didn’t respond, just kept rocking back and forth, his tears falling faster now.

"I’m not gonna hurt you," he whispered again, his voice trembling. "See? That wasn’t bad."

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. "Aegon," she said softly, "I’m not going to hurt you either. It’s okay."

He didn’t seem to hear her. He was too far gone, lost in whatever memory had taken over his mind. His eyes stared blankly at the floor, wide and terrified, as if he were seeing something she couldn’t.

She reached out slowly, carefully, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, his whole body recoiling, but she didn’t pull away.

"Aegon," she whispered again, trying to keep her voice steady. "It’s okay. You’re safe here."

But he wasn’t safe. Not really. Not with whatever had broken him, not with the darkness that clung to him like a shadow.

He rocked back and forth, mumbling, "Come here. Come on, what’s the matter, Aegon? No, no, no, I’m not gonna hurt you."

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, her heart pounding in her chest. Whoever had done this to him—whoever had hurt him—had left a mark that ran deeper than anything she could understand.

For the first time, she realized she wasn’t dealing with just a stalker or a psychopath. Aegon was something much darker, much more broken than she had ever imagined.

She swallowed hard, trying to push the fear out of her voice. "Aegon," she said quietly, "It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid."

But as his sobs grew louder, as he curled tighter into himself, Y/N knew that nothing she said could reach him.

The real Aegon—the one who had tormented her, who had done horrible things—was still there, somewhere. But so was this… this terrified boy, trapped in his own mind.

And she didn’t know which one scared her more.

Y/N swallowed down the terror rising in her throat, her hand trembling as she reached out to softly pet Aegon’s head. At first, he flinched, his body jerking away from her touch. But then, as if something clicked in his broken mind, he looked up at her—really looked—and his tear-streaked eyes seemed to recognize her for the first time. His lips trembled as he whispered her name, broken, like a child.

“Y/N…”

Before she could react, he clung to her, his body collapsing into her lap, his head pressed against her chest. He sobbed quietly, his whole body shaking, his hands clutching her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded. She froze for a moment, completely caught off guard, but then instinct took over, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. His tears soaked through her clothes, and she could feel the tremors in his frail, battered form.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking his hair, trying to calm him. “It’s okay, Aegon. You’re safe now.”

His sobs eventually began to quiet, his breathing slowing as she rocked him gently, her voice soft in his ear. “Shh… it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

For a long time, they stayed like that—her holding him, him clinging to her like a lifeline. The moments stretched into eternity, and Y/N could feel his grip slowly loosen as the storm inside him settled. He pulled away slightly, his eyes red and swollen from crying, but he refused to meet her gaze, his head turning away as he tried to wipe at the tears that continued to fall.

“Aegon…” she began softly, “What happened to you? Who did this?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at the floor, his jaw tight, struggling to control the tears still running down his face.

“Aegon, please…” she pressed, her voice gentle but firm. “You have to tell me.”

For a moment, it seemed like he might respond, but then he muttered something, barely audible. “I… I hate it. When she… when my mother does horrible things to me.”

Y/N felt her breath catch. His mother? She had always known that Aegon’s relationship with his family was fraught, but this? There was something darker here, something that had broken him in ways she couldn’t fathom.

“But it’s okay,” Aegon continued, his voice shaking. “Because I love her. And that’s what matters, right?”

“No Aegon–”

"I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N," Aegon said suddenly, his voice softer now, almost childlike. "I was angry that night, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to hurt him. I didn’t like the way he looked at you. The way he touched you."

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Aegon…"

He turned to her then, his bloodshot eyes wide and full of sincerity. "You can hit me, you know. I won’t stop you. You were so angry, I could see it. You can hit me if it makes you feel better."

Y/N’s blood ran cold. "What? No, Aegon, I’m not—"

"You can," he repeated, almost eagerly. "It’s okay. You’re mad at me. You can hit me." He smiled then, a soft, unnerving smile that made her stomach churn. "I won’t even flinch. I promise."

"Aegon, that’s not—"

“You can beat me if it makes you feel better,” he continued, his voice unnervingly soft, as though he were offering her a gift. “It’s okay. I’ll let you do it. I deserve it, right?”

The pit in Y/N’s stomach twisted. His words, his tone—it was as if he was trying to convince himself, not her. Like he was rationalizing the abuse he had endured.

He turned his head just slightly, enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye. “You’re like me,” he whispered.

Her body tensed at his words. “What… what do you mean?”

He wiped at his face with trembling fingers, still not fully meeting her eyes. “Even though your boyfriend hurt you… you still think about him, don’t you?”

Y/N’s blood ran cold. She felt the fear creeping back in—the terror that had been gnawing at her ever since the day the dead doves appeared at her door. The stalker. The horror. It was all coming back.

Aegon finally looked up at her, his eyes glittering with something dark, something sinister. “You love him… don’t you?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Her heart was hammering in her chest, the air thick with a suffocating dread.

Aegon’s lips twisted into a smile—that smile. The one she had seen before, the one that sent chills down her spine.

“I hate him,” Aegon said softly, his voice dripping with venom. “I hate the way he treats you. The way he talks to you. Hurts you. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She could feel her pulse quickening, her mind racing, trying to piece together what he was saying—what he was implying.

“Do you know,” Aegon asked, his tone disturbingly calm, “why he hasn’t answered your calls?”

Her stomach dropped.

She hadn’t heard from her boyfriend in days. He had stormed out after their last argument, refusing to answer her desperate calls or texts. She had been terrified, worried sick about him—about what he was thinking, about whether he’d come back. But now, sitting here, listening to Aegon, that fear morphed into something far worse.

He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have.

Her entire body went cold.

“What… what do you mean?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Aegon’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with something inhuman, something evil. He didn’t answer directly—he didn’t have to. The look in his eyes told her everything.

He leaned back, his voice light and playful now, like they were discussing a joke. “Did you open the gift I left for you?”

Her heart nearly stopped.

Gift? What gift? She hadn’t seen anything—hadn’t thought about it. But then, the morning came flooding back to her. The moment she had left the house, her mind too wrapped up in her terror and paranoia to notice anything out of place.

Her blood ran cold as her mind raced with horrible possibilities. The gift. What if it wasn’t just some harmless object? What if it was—

No. No, no, no.

She stood up so fast that she almost tripped, her eyes wide with panic. Aegon was laughing now—a soft, eerie laugh that filled the room, the sound making her skin crawl.

“Oh, Y/N,” he cooed, his voice mocking. “You really should check your door more carefully in the mornings.”

Her mind was spinning, her heart racing. She had to get out. She had to leave. She couldn’t stay here—not with him, not with his laughter ringing in her ears, the sick grin spreading across his bruised face.

She grabbed her keys from the desk, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped them. Aegon was still sitting there, watching her with that horrifying smile, his eyes gleaming with delight.

“You’ll thank me later,” he called after her as she bolted for the door.

Her mind was screaming, her heart pounding in her chest as she tore through the office, slamming the door behind her. His laughter echoed in her ears, following her down the hallway, filling her with a terror so deep she could barely breathe.

And as she ran, the only thought in her mind was the horrifying possibility of what she would find when she opened that gift.

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[hier--soir]

fake it

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: does joel know you well enough to know when you're faking it? warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] smut, smut, smut, it's pretty much entirely smut, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, faked orgasm, panty sniffing, cunnilingus. word count: 5.7k masterlist a/n: i've had this idea worming around in my head for days and i just had to get it out so heRE WE GO

“We’ll stop here for the night.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of Joel’s voice, and the truck rolled to a stop as he parked it in the middle of a field, directly on the edge of a thick forest. The three of you had been on the road for hours since leaving Bill and Frank’s place, and you’d drifted in and out of a fitful sleep for the past few hours, painfully aware that it was your turn to take first watch once you stopped somewhere for the night.

“Fucking finally,” Ellie grumbled from the backseat, and Joel shot her an annoyed glance through the rear-view mirror.

It was already dark outside, and you shone a torch ahead into the inky black mass as the three of you spread your sleeping bags out on the ground. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, adrenaline spiking in the darkness. You’d always been afraid of it; the dark, and what lurked within it. And being in the middle of a field, late at night, unable to make a fire, was surely one of the worst case scenarios you could think of.

“You guys sure we’re safe out here?” Ellie asked warily. You noticed her eyes staring out across the forest, trying to spot anything through the thick mass of tall trees.

When Joel didn’t answer her immediately, his own eyes drifting outward to gaze into the darkness, your stomach dropped. After a second of too much silence you discreetly elbowed him in the side. His head snapped around to look at you, frowning as he rested a hand on his rib. 

“We’re fine,” you assured Ellie quickly, raising your eyebrows at Joel, as if to say, right?

“Yeah,” he said, eyes sliding from you to her. “No one’s gonna find us out here. You should get some sleep, we’re movin’ early in the morning.”

She nodded, still looking somewhat unconvinced, before slipping into her sleeping bag and rolling over so that her back was to the pair of you. You stared at your partner for a moment, chest aching with anxiety, hating the way his tone of voice hadn’t calmed your nerves.

Too anxious to sit down and rest for a moment, you shouldered a hunting rifle instead, positioning yourself close to the truck, where you could see both of them clearly. Every few minutes you rotated your body, watching the trees from every angle, making sure you would notice if there was even the slightest sound or movement. You hands grew clammy where they held the gun, and you had to readjust your grip on it every once in a while.

“What’re you doin’?” Joel’s voice drifted over to you after a little while. You turned, huffing out a laugh when you saw him lazing on his sleeping bag, sipping from his flask of whiskey.

“What am I doing?” you chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Getting’ drunk on the job,” he smirked, tipping his head back as he drank. You swallowed thickly, smile fading as you stared at his long, thick neck, and the way it was exposed when he tilted his chin up. It had been weeks since the two of you had done anything more than kiss, too preoccupied with Ellie, and getting to Wyoming.

It was as if Joel could sense where your thoughts had travelled, because his expression darkened, eyes squinting greedily at you from across the open space.

“Why don’t you come over here, darlin’,” he said, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Joel,” you warned quietly, but he just patted his thigh in encouragement, taking a long sip from his flask.

“Just c’mere.”

You spared a glance around you, will power hanging by a thread, but ultimately shook your head, refusing. Joel let out a huff and stood up. He moved slowly, eyes never straying from your face as he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. And you watched him, tongue darting out to wet your lips as he came to rest beside you, leaning against the truck. Doing your best not to look at him, you tightened your grip on the gun and allowed yourself to lean back against the vehicle as well.

Joel held out the flask to you. “What’s got you so worked up, sugar?”

Casting an irritated glance in his direction, you snatched the flask from his hand and took a long swig, welcoming the stinging distraction as the liquid burnt down your throat.

“You know I hate the dark,” is all you said.

He hummed from low in his throat, nodding once. He stretched out a hand and snagged one of your belt loops with his finger, tugging you quickly into his side. You stumbled into his chest with a sharp gasp of surprise.

“It’s not so bad,” his deep voice drawled, plush lips grazing your ear. You shivered, tucking the flask away before placing a hand on his chest, your fingertips digging into the soft muscle there. “Nothin’ scary about it.”

Joel let his nose trace along the shell of your ear, and then across your cheek, and then his fingers were gripping your chin, turning your face to his..

His lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, sucking and biting, lathing his tongue along your bottom lip until you welcomed him into your mouth with a pitiful sigh. His tongue pressed against yours, stroking slowly, coaxing your jaw open. You were vaguely aware of his other hand gripping the zip on your jacket and tugging it down. Heat flared in your abdomen, and you gripped the collar of his jacket, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and pulling back, enjoying the way he groaned as you stretched it out before releasing it with a wet pop.

You watched, glossy-eyed and already a little dazed, as Joel pried the gun out of your hands. He placed it gently onto the bed of the truck. His hand traced over your stomach, fisting the material intermittently, and then he was gripping your hips, spinning you so your chest was to the car, and he was pressed firmly against your back.

“Joel,” you muttered nervously, but he ignored you, sponging kisses behind your ear, suckling on the sensitive spot where your neck met your jaw. You could feel him, hot and hard against the curve of your ass. One of his hands drifted along the softness of your lower stomach, toying with the hemline of your shirt, and a stuttered gasp escaped your lips.

Sharp teeth grazed your neck, nipping at the skin and then he was lapping over it with his tongue, soothing the piercing ache he’d caused. You sighed at the feeling, rutting backward against him. You allowed your eyes to drift shut. And then they slammed back open again, as you realised neither of you would be keeping watch if you shut them. Joel’s face was hidden against your neck, there was no way he would see if anyone snuck up on the camp. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thought, and you kept your eyes open from then on.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough and wanton with need. “I’ve been missin’ you.”

“What abou-“

“She’s asleep,” he reassured, grip on your waist tightening. You could feel the way he was straining against his jeans, cock desperate and begging to be touched, as if he’d been thinking about this moment for hours, days, weeks. The ache between your thighs grew painful, and you rubbed against him harder.

“We have to be quiet,” you murmured quickly.

His only response was the distinct sound of his belt clinking, and then a shuffling noise as he dragged his pants low enough to free himself from the tight confines of his underwear. Not wasting a second, he gripped the waistband of your jeans and tugged them down as well, only satisfied when they rested around your knees, giving him full access to you.

One of his fingers glided messily between your folds and he sighed into your ear, marvelling at how wet you were for him already.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Wish I could put my mouth on you right now. Know you’d taste so good for me, baby, always do.”

You groaned. A soft, pathetic sound.

“It’s been so long,” he groused, and you murmured your agreement. It felt like you were suspended in the air, anticipation holding you firmly in its grasp as you waited for him to do something, anything. “Can’t stand it; s’all I could think about today.”

He tapped the rough pad of a finger against your clit and your entire body flinched forward against the car. As if he could sense the way your knees were buckling, his free arm wrapped around you, holding you up. You murmured his name desperately, hips pushing down against his hand.

“Should I fuck you with my fingers first?” he asked quietly, middle finger circling your entrance. “Or should I let my cock stretch you out?”

When you didn’t answer, mind too fuzzy to string a sentence together, he said, “Hmm?”

“Please,” you keened roughly, turning to glance at him over your shoulder. “Just want you, need you inside me.”

You saw the way the muscle in his jaw worked, lips pursed together as tension rolled through his shoulders. And then his cock was gliding through your folds, smearing your slick over his length, before the blunt tip of him nestled at your entrance. A harsh shout left your lips as he pushed himself, bottoming out in one thrust. Instantly, one of his hands slapped over your mouth, fingertips pressing into your cheek. Your eyes widened, darting around the clearing that surrounded you both on all angles.

“This ain’t gonna work if you do that,” Joel said gruffly, adjusting his hips so he pulled out halfway, before pressing himself back into you. The burn was delicious, and you fluttered around him, gripping him tightly after so much time missing him inside you. A garbled version of your name escaped him, and you whimpered in response, bucking your hips backwards, silently begging him to continue.

He set a gruelling pace, pressing into you relentlessly. One hand covered your mouth while the other gripped the front of your shirt tightly, holding your body still as he fucked into you. When your body jolted against the car from a particularly rough thrust, he muttered a gruff apology into your ear, but didn’t let up. Back arching, you contracted around him, revelling in the sound of the muted groans being let out against the back of your neck.

You bit down into his palm, a muffled cry escaping you. The thought of Ellie waking up and discovering the pair of you flitted through your mind and you cringed. But it disappeared from your mind just as quickly, Joel’s movements driving it away.

The air filled with sounds of heavy breaths and an odd squelching sound, as your slick squeezed around his cock and dripped out of you. Low curses spilled into the atmosphere, and Joel was saying something, speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the roar of blood in your ears. Everything was heightening. The muscles in your abdomen tightened and twitched with every movement of him inside you, and your hips strained backwards, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was all so fast, so desperate, and your body was begging for release after being left untouched for weeks.

But right as you felt yourself reach a precipice, as Joel pushed himself to hit the deepest part of you, everything was ruined.

Because a violent image ripped through your mind of someone storming into the camp in that moment and dragging Ellie out of her sleeping bag. Of someone pointing a gun at you and Joel, while you were defenceless. The darkness of the night seemed to crush in around you, reminding you of its presence and suffocating you. Anybody, or anything, could be out there right now, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.

Goosebumps rose across your skin. You gasped at the thought, icy dread spiralling through your veins, your orgasm drawing further and further from reach. Except Joel took your gasp as a good sign, and groaned in response, hand dropping your stomach to toy with your clit as his thrusts grew jerkier. You jerked against him, mewling into his hand. It felt good. It felt so fucking good, and yet you couldn’t focus, too distracted to lure back the orgasm that had been dancing in the edges of your periphery.  

Your head was a violent jumble of pleasure and panic. A devastated moan tumbled from your lips, mouth hanging open as the head of Joel’s cock angled against your g-spot.

“There?” he asked breathlessly, and you nodded, reaching to grip the back of his neck. He moved faster, pushing and pulling and hitting that spot over and over. And you could feel the coil inside of you burn again, liquid heat spreading through your limbs as your body tried to reach that high again, but it just wasn’t fast enough. The car was cold against the front of your body, and your brain was on such high alert, that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get there.

“Come with me,” Joel encouraged gruffly, fingertips holding your jaw in a bruising grip. “Come on now, let me have it.”

He was so close. You could feel it in the way his rapid heartbeat crashed against your back; in the ragged breaths that were exhaled across your neck. His hips were stuttering against you, thighs tense. And you wanted him to feel good. Wanted him to let go after so long – god, he deserved it. So you did something you’d never done with Joel before.

You faked it.

Your chin tilted upward to the sky, and you let deep, elongated breaths rattle through your chest, singing his name into the palm of his hand. Joel made a deep guttural sound. His fingers rubbed messy circles against your clit, and you bucked against him, heart thrashing in your chest. He said you’resotight, and you said I’m comingohgodJoelohfuck, and through it all, you could feel it growing inside of you. Your lungs burned inside your chest. He was stretching you so perfectly, so deliciously, and you let out a genuine moan at the feeling of his rough thrusts. You could feel him in the bones of your skull, in the tips of your toes, and in every inch of your body in between, and yet you needed more.

Joel trembled, his entire body shaking against yours. You felt his cock jump inside you in quick, jerky movements and clenched around him, and then he exhaled a deep groan, and went still.  

After a few moments, he pulled out, and you gasped at the cold sensation. Rapid breaths left his mouth, he peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, removing his hand from your face only to wrap both arms around your torso and hold you against him. Your core ached, clenching around nothing as his spend seeped out of you, spilling onto your inner thighs.

Turning in his arms, you offered him a dazed look. Your body was hot, coiled like a string pulled taught, waiting to snap. He kissed you, with less rush this time, and you returned it lazily, reaching down to tug your pants up over your hips again. Your tried not to cringe as your underwear pressed against you. You were uncomfortably wet, and the cold material stuck to your tacky skin. Joel did the same.

Pulling back from the kiss, you rubbed the side of your jaw, flexing your mouth open in an attempt to soothe the ache that had settled there. Joel watched you all the while. His dark eyes flickered over your face, trying to see you through the darkness.

“You good?” he asked quietly, at the same time as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the trees, off to your left. Your head snapped to the side, eyes glaring out through the thick inky black, ears straining. “Baby?”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Thought I heard something.”

Strong fingers gripped your chin, turning you to face him once more. A frown had settled across his face, eyebrows drawn tight across his forehead. His lips were a thin line, and his chest still shook as he regulated his breathing, but you could see it there; the understanding. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as nervousness zipped through your body. He knew. There was no way, you told yourself. No way he could have known. And yet the longer you stared at each other, the deeper his frown got.

Wordlessly, his hand dropped between your bodies, and he pressed his palm against your mound through your pants. A soft sound of surprise escaped your mouth as his fingers curled against you, pressing against where your clit ached. You whimpered softly, numb fingers gripping his hand and holding it against you. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and you stilled, hand going lax on top of his.

“Fuck,” Joel said gruffly. “Fuck.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to deny it, to tell him it was fine, to say anything, but a rustling sound caught both of your attention. It was coming from the same spot as before, only this time it seemed louder, more pronounced. Your breathing paused.

“Get in the truck,” he said.

“Joel,” you tried, panic laced through your voice.

“Get in the truck now,” he said, grabbing the hunting rifle from the truck bed. “I’ll get the kid.”

Blood rushed in your ears as you walked swiftly to the passenger side of the truck, swinging yourself up into the seat and shutting the door behind you as softly as possible. Anxious goosebumps rippled across your skin as you stared out the window into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of Ellie or Joel. Minutes passed, and then the doors opened, and Ellie slumped inside, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, as Joel slammed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and tearing out of the field.

“Did you see anything?” Ellie asked from the backseat.

“No,” he said, not looking at either of you.

“Then why are w-“

“Go back to sleep,” Joel ordered her firmly, and you cringed at his tone, turning in your chair to offer her a sympathetic smile. She didn’t return it, laying down across the backseats and turning her back on the pair of you.

The car was entirely silent as Joel drove the three of you back onto a road, and continued heading towards Kansas City. And as much as your body yearned for sleep, you found yourself wide awake, eyes focused out the windscreen, watching the tarnished landscape pass you by, exposed up by the car’s headlights.

After an hour of driving, Joel finally spoke.

“Ellie?” he said, tone even.

No response came from the back seat. You watched him out of the corner of your eye. He repeated her name.

Satisfied when there was no response, he spared a glance in your direction, before turning back to look at the road.

As if against your own will, you whispered his name quietly, pleadingly.

“Don’t,” he practically growled.

“I’m s-“

“You thought I wouldn’t know?” his lip curled upward, a grimace painting his face. “Think that I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re faking it?”

Your entire body stilled. Heat prickled across your skin, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that Ellie was truly asleep in the backseat. Your hands were clammy, and you wiped them fruitlessly against the material of your jeans, unsure of what to say. He waited for you to speak, and when you didn’t, a loose sigh rattled from his chest.

“You do this thing,” he said quietly. “When you come.”

“What?”

“This huge smile,” he frowned. “Like you can’t help yourself. Like it felt so good, that you can’t control your face, and you smile so big I can see every one of the fuckin’ teeth in your skull.”

“Joel—"

“Every time,” he interrupted firmly.

“I-“

“And I didn’t realise,” he whispered harshly. “How much I look for it – that I wait for it, I god damn expect it.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured feebly, heat flashing through you. You gazed at the side of his tense face, stomach twisting at his words. You’d never known you did that. Never known he would notice if one day you didn’t.

“You’re sorry?” Joel scoffed. His hands gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You should be angry.”

You watched him with bated breath.

“First time I touched you in weeks, and I didn’t even make sure…,” he trailed off, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. “Like you’re some fuckin’ toy.”

“It was good, Joel,” you spoke in a hushed tone, glancing over your shoulder at Ellie’s back. “I swear, I was just distracted, and it was dark, an-“

“It’s not good with me,” he said curtly, and you stopped, wetting your lips anxiously.

Before you could say anything else, a soft murmuring came from the backseat, as Ellie started to wake up once more. You cringed, straightening in your seat and returning your gaze to the road ahead.

“This isn’t over,” Joel said, voice rough. And when he turned his head to look at you, just for a second, you nodded in acknowledgement. A dark glint of determination shone in his eyes, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

A long, tense day passed by before Joel could get you alone again. You felt the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Those dark eyes watched you, uncaring of whether you noticed or not, his hands twitching towards you whenever you were close, aching to touch you, to repent. Without a chance to shower, you spent the entire day with a sticky reminder of the night before. You were uncomfortably wet, your own slick mixed with Joel’s come making a mess of your underwear, streaking down your thighs inside your trousers.

It was late afternoon by the time he spotted a house in the distance, and when he pulled up outside of it, he ordered you and Ellie to stay in the car while he checked it out.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” she said from the backseat, as soon as Joel was out of earshot.

“Me too, kid,” you muttered, eyes on the front door until he reappeared, giving the all clear for you both to get out of the truck and go inside.

“There’s a few rooms,” he told you as you looked around the house, eyes drifting over the dusty furniture, bookshelves, dining table. “Two down here, one upstairs.”

“Shotgun upstairs,” Ellie said quickly, heading towards the staircase at the end of the hall.

“Are you hungry?” Joel called out to her back.

Ellie paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave him a look that said what do we even have to eat? But all she said was that she was gonna crash, and grumbled something about him never letting her get any sleep as she marched up the creaking steps.

“I think I’m gonna get some sleep as well,” you yawned, stretching your arm out against your chest. Joel’s eyes flashed to yours, and he huffed quietly.

“Is that right?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You faltered, pulse quickening at the insinuation laced in his words.

“I—”

“First door on the right,” he motioned his head towards the hallway, and you followed him wordlessly towards the room.

It was small, cosy. Late afternoon light gleamed in through a north facing window, and the sun’s rays shone across a double bed in the middle of the room, and a bare side table. Silently, Joel stripped the sheets off the bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor before unzipping his sleeping bag and draping it across the mattress.

“You tired?”

You watched his hands as they spread the sleep bag out, flattening out any lumps in it. Thick, long fingers pressed against the material, and heat spread through your lower stomach.

“Yes,” you said honestly, and he nodded, tilting his head to look at you. You unzipped your jeans and discarded them on the floor before crawling onto the bed.

“How tired?” Joel queried, kicking his shoes off and joining you on the mattress. He rested back on his heels, hands splaying across your kneecaps as he gazed down at you.

You mmm’d from the back of your throat, wetting your lower lip. “Not too tired.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped as his eyes drifting across your body, down your bare thighs, to rest on the dark spot on the front of your panties. His fingers traced down your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until he gripped the hem of your underwear.

He pulled them down your legs, tantalisingly slow, and you watched with wide eyes as he lifted the ruined material up to his face. Maintaining eye contact, he held them over his mouth and nose, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away as he inhaled deeply. Heat soared across your cheeks, and you would have been ashamed, if it weren’t for the way you could see him beginning to bulge against the zipper of his jeans, hot and hard for you.

“I want you,” you whispered brokenly. Joel dropped your underwear onto the bed beside your body.

“I know,” he gritted his teeth, sliding his palms down your inner thighs and prying them apart so he could settle in between them.

One hand raised to cup your face and you smiled, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. His thumb grazed your bottom lip in a silent request, and you parted them for him instantly, welcoming the digit into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, wetting it, and watched intensely as he lowered his hand down your body, and pressed the finger between your folds.

“Christ,” he cursed, mouth falling ajar as he felt you. “You been like this all day?”

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered.   

“Then I’m a fuckin’ monster,” he chuckled mirthlessly, staring between your legs with hooded eyes. “Left my best girl all worked up. God, darlin’, look at you; dripping wet for me, desperate for something to come on.”

“Please,” you exhaled sharply. “I need you, want your cock inside me so bad.”

He tutted quietly, shaking his head a little. “You think I deserve it?” his eyes flashed to yours, mouth downturned. “Think I deserve to be inside this pretty pussy, when I’ve been so mean to it?”

Your thighs tensed painfully as his finger started rubbing lightly against your bundle of nerves.

“Because I don’t,” he said ruefully. “Think I need to make it up to you first, what do you think, baby?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

“And we aren’t finished unless you come,” he said darkly. “Do you understand?”

Your lips felt numb, tongue heavy in your mouth as you stared up at him through hooded eyes. Joel glared down at you, nostrils flared. “Say you understand.”

“I understand,” you finally mewled in frustration, twitching into the mattress as his thumb swiped over your pulsing clit. “F-fuck, Joel, please.”

His finger dragged between the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading you open so he could see your glistening core. He swore under his breath, the tip of his thumb gliding over your entrance where he could see remnants of his seed still easing out of you. His knees thudded against the old mattress as he dragged himself down the bed, and then his mouth was on you.

“Ohhh,” an exaggerated moan left your mouth, leaving your lips parted in an O shape as your head dropped back into the pillow. His tongue flattened to lick a stripe up your core, all the way from your entrance to above your clit and you shuddered into his mouth, crying out at the contact. His hands gripped your thighs and dragged them over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into you.

Joel’s nose dragged across your clit as his tongue circled your entrance, and slurping noises filled the air as he cleaned the remnants of himself from your hole. You gasped, fire racing through your veins at the idea of him drinking down his own come, and your hips bucked off the bed. The tips of his fingers dug into your thighs in a silent warning to stay still. You clawed your nails into his scalp, raking through his messy hair, doing your best not to absolutely writhe against his face.

He groaned against you, pulling back momentarily to smirk up at you, your slick shining on his lips and beard. It was shameful, the way the noises he made went to your head. The deep, growling moans, the way his hums vibrated against you. You absorbed them and filed them away into your memory, somewhere only for you to ever see. Your hips framed his face, thighs bracketed over his shoulders as he gripped them, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips dug into your flesh.

Joel worked painstakingly slowly at first. His hot, long tongue glided along the entirety of you, and then he dipped it inside your weeping hole. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped his hot muscle in and out of you, until you were begging him to just please fuck me Joel please I’m sorry, but then he just sped up, moving upward to flick the tip of his tongue across your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed as he swiped back and forth sharply, his lips suctioning around it as he abused your swollen clit.

And then one of his hands disappeared, and he eased a long, thick finger inside of you. He stroked along your walls, hooking his finger against your g-spot as you cried out his name, clenching around the digit. Encouraged by the response, he swiftly pushed a second finger inside, scissoring them and stretching you out as he sponged messy kisses against your clit.

Your mind was a blur. “Shit, Joel.”

Every single nerve, every point of feeling in your entire body, was directed to the apex of your thighs, and you trembled with the intensity of it. Every kiss, every lick, every suck was a reverent apology, a vow to never let it happen again. Joel was on his knees at the altar of his god, begging for forgiveness, and you were more than happy to grant it.

It felt like your chest was being ripped open as heavy breaths worked their way out of your burning lungs, heavy panting mixing in the air with the sounds of his tongue gliding through your wetness. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and you moaned roughly as he let his teeth skate ever so slightly over your clit.

His fingers pumped inside you, curling against the roof of your channel in a continuous motion as his tongue rolled against your nerves. It sent a familiar fire spreading through your abdomen, warming your entire chest, until you were gasping for air, jaw aching as it hung open, in awe of every point of contact he had with your body.

You clenched painfully tight, pussy squeezing around his fingers as his tongue swiped back and forth across your clit. Joel hummed in encouragement, mouth buzzing against you in a way that sent you careening towards the edge even faster. It seemed like every muscle in your body was tightening. Arms tensed awkwardly, one hand buried in his hair, the other twisted in the sheets beside you. Thighs pressed against the side of his head, stomach burning as he built you up and up and up and—

“Oh, oh my—fucking god,” you sobbed as your orgasm hit, and Joel braced you against the bed, working you through it. Pleasure rushed through you like an avalanche. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you let go of everything that had ever existed in your world except for Joel. You lost yourself in him; in the glide of his tongue against your core, in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, in the rough scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. He was everywhere, everything.

In time, you were vaguely aware of him pulling back, of only the drag of his fingers inside you remaining, and you knew he must have been watching you, raking in the sight of you so exposed.

“There you go,” you could hear him saying, somewhere past the ringing in your ears. “Give it t’me. That’s it, look so pretty like this, all fucked out just for me.”

And when he dragged his fingers out of you, it was only to make room for his head to drop down once more to suck and lick at where your orgasm dripped out of you, moaning as he went, desperate not to miss a single drop.

Finally, after the final waves of your climax had settled, and your limbs dropped heavily against the bed, he kissed his way up your body, wet mouth leaving a shimmering trail along your skin until he reached your face and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulled back after a moment, and you breathed deeply, lost in the way the sunlight danced across the back of your eyelids. You weren’t aware of the corners of your mouth tilting upward, of your lips peeling back to reveal your teeth as you grinned brazenly, cool relief coursing through you.

“Look at that,” Joel’s voice brought you back down to earth, and you blinked heavily, trying to focus your bleary eyes on his face. His hair was messy, a dark rough halo around his head as the sunlight shone around him. One side of his mouth was pointed upward, a small smirk decorating his features. “There’s that smile.”

[surielstea]

Debts and Gifts

Fic requested by @weirdo-fun

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (marriage of convenience au)

Summary: Azriel and Reader are out shopping for solstice when Reader stumbles upon someone from her past and Azriel’s sees to it that she forgets about him.

Warnings: PDA | Reader is a former courtesan | very, very slight nsfw, public (ish) | Azriel being feral for reader at all times.

3k words.

It was the last market day before Winter Solstice, which meant pop-up shops and vendor carts lined the main streets of Velaris, selling anything from hand-made jewelry to warm meals.

The streets were teeming with last-minute shoppers dressed in their warmest coats, everyone seeking warmth so much so that one of the cocoa vendors had a line around the corner.

I stood at one of the less crowded establishments, staring at the crystals beneath the protective glass, twisting my wedding ring around my fourth finger, a habit I picked up the moment it was placed on my finger.

"Come, this way," A familiar voice says and I turn from the crystals to face him, the dark-haired male holding out his scarred hand as an invitation. I pull my scarf up higher, hiding my flushed cheeks as I intertwine our cold hands. It was just so the crowd didn't split us up.

"I still have to get Rhys a solstice present," Azriel murmured, using the advantage of his height to look over the bustling crowd.

"The High Lord is the last on your list?" I giggle teasingly.

"Who says I got anything for you?" He lifted a dark brow at me and I frowned, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I think Mor and Cassian would beat you up if you didn't get anything for your wife," I state and he tenses slightly as if he's never heard me call him my husband before. I have, of course, many times to win arguments or just to tease him, so what was the difference now?

— flashback —

As a girl born in the Hewn City, I really didn't have much of a choice when it came to my line of work. It was a Courtesan or a housewife. And I wasn't exactly wealthy enough to afford the pretty dresses or delicate perfumes that would draw in the suitors in the first place. So courtesan it was.

Madame Welder was an older lady but I swore there wasn't a wrinkle on her. She was also the only person I've ever been afraid of, and I was her favorite disciple, lucky me.

It was my bidding day today, a day in every courtesan's life that would determine her fate of success. A day when men across courts would offer an obscene amount of money to take her virginity.

I dreaded this day. "At least you look pretty?" Mor smiled from beside my head, her hands planted on my shoulders as I stared at myself in the mirror, the dress I wore was more conservative than I had been expecting, don't get me wrong it wasn't modest by any means, but I've seen other girls dressed in sheer white chiffon for their own bidding days.

The gown was made of delicate white silk, and my décolletage was enunciated by curtaining fabric, covering just enough to prompt curiosity. The length was short, but not alarming enough for me to be embarrassed.

I did look pretty. I didn't exactly feel it.

"Yeah," I murmured. "At least I look pretty," I sigh, spinning on my heel, deciding the sight of myself was too foreign to handle. I walk towards my vanity and reapply my slightly faded lipstick.

A knock at the door made me flinch, I wasn't ready for this.

"Dearest, it's time," My Madame’s voice says through the door and my spine stiffens. I looked to Morrigan with creased brows.

"Everything will be fine," She smiles at me so casually the facade makes me believe her for a moment. "I'm taking care of everything alright?" She hums, coming closer to cup my cheeks. "Alright?" She repeats and I nod, my shoulders slightly relaxing and she smiles a bit brighter.

"Good."

The Shadow Singer had bet on me that night, in fact, he bet the largest sum that my Madame had ever made off a girl. She was more than happy to usher me off towards him.

"Az? What are you doing?" I whisper shout at him the moment we're in solitude. "Did Morrigan not tell you the plan?" His brows furrow, creasing in the center.

"The plan— what are you talking about?" I shake my head confused.

"We're getting you out of here," He says simply and I blink, then blink again, making sure I wasn't imagining this.

"I can't just leave, I'm indebted to my Madame," I explain and he rolls his eyes as if I should've already figured all this out.

"I just paid her more than she's made in her career, you don't owe her anything."

"But—" I begin.

"No buts, Morrigan and I devised a whole plan to get you out of this wretched city, you're not ruining it because of your good morality," He tuts, cutting me off and a frown pulls at my lips.

"No, Az it's not that," I sigh with a shake of my head. He cocks a brow, waiting for an explanation.

"Every girl under Madame Welder's wing is, more or less forced into entering a bargain with her," I pause, only to swallow thickly before continuing. "A girl cannot leave her organization until she has met the qualifications," I finish but his confusion still lingers.

"The qualifications being?" His head tilts and I rock slightly on my stiletto heels, my feet aching.

"There's only three, the first is that the girl has made Madame Welder a certain amount of money," I murmured and Azriel snorted. "I think I crossed that one off, the others?" He leaned back against the hallway wall, so very casual as he gracefully swept his hair away from his eyes.

"The second is that it must be after your bidding day, which we now needn’t worry about,” I murmur, upright about the third and final requirement. He noticed my stress but said nothing, waiting for me to finish.

“The third is marriage.” I finally manage to spit out and he blinks, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank the cauldron I thought it’d be far worse,” Azriel hummed and I looked at him like he was crazy. “We'll find you someone to marry,” He waved me off.

My brows creased. Someone would have to give up their chance at love so I could have a chance at freedom? It didn’t feel right. I’ve never been free, marriage meant surrendering my family name, which meant that I was one-half of someone else that I barely knew.

“Who would possibly give up their freedom if only to grant mine?” I narrowed my gaze and he shrugged. “We’ll get married,” He suggested and a pink flush warmed my cheeks. “We can figure this out, I’m not leaving you here,” He shakes his head, grabbing my hand in his. I squeezed it in reply, my blush still blazingly hot across my face.

He suddenly pulled me down a hall and I yelped as he took me towards the exit of the slightly crumbling tower. “Where are we going?” I asked with pursed lips.

“I bought you for the night didn’t I?” He cast a glance back towards me with a sly wink. If I wasn’t red, I most certainly was now. My spine stiffened but I continued to race after him. “Relax,” His thumb brushed over the back of my palm reassuringly. “We’re going to find you a ring.”

———

I was grateful for him that day, even more grateful that it was him Morrigan selected to bid for me. Not that I'd ever admit it aloud, but gods was I glad it was he was the one, out of all the others, who ended up putting a ring on my finger.

"Stay close," Azriel snapped me out of my thoughts but before I could register what he said, he pulled me into the crowd. I squeezed onto his hand tighter as I weaseled my way through people to keep up with him. He let go of my hand in favor of slipping it around my waist, holding me close to him as we traveled through the sea of people.

Lucky for us, most people of Velaris feared Illyrians so everyone made an effort to avoid us at the sight of Azriel's wings.

"What are you thinking of getting Rhys?" I ask as we weave and bob through the crowd.

"I have no idea. What do you get a lord who already has everything?" He sighs.

"A lint roller?" I suggest and he turns to look at me, slightly confused but I brush him off. "How about a new pair of shoes?" I try but his skeptical expression remains.

"He's not Morrigan," Azriel grumbles and I roll my eyes, continuing to shuffle alongside him. "What'd you get him?"

I shrug. "A new fancy jacket, say what you want. The male likes his clothes," I state and he only nods, his mind reeling.

We continue to walk in silence for a few minutes before he suddenly tightens his hold on me and pulls me in another direction.

"You really have to stop yanking me everywhere, I'm going to get whiplash one of these days," I huff as we enter a small, cozy bookstore. I look at him incredulously and he brushes me off.

“Since when does the High Lord read?” I scoff, walking down an aisle of colorful, and very enticing spines.

“We’re not here for Rhys,” He shook his head and I looked at him bewildered, my brows bunched. “Go on, pick out a book,” He waved me off and I blinked, still slightly confused. He sighed, giving me a soft smile.

“I got you a gift already, but I figured I wouldn’t exactly be fulfilling my role as the best husband ever if I didn’t spoil you,” He flashed me a pearly smile, showcasing a pair of dimples that I loved so dearly.

“How many can I get?” I ask him cheekily, as a joke surely, only expecting him to get me one but instead, he reaches to his side and picks up a wicker basket from its stack. “You can fill this up,” He handed me the basket and my eyes nearly popped from the sockets.

“Gods I could kiss you,” I muse, crashing into him in a hug. He didn’t stumble, but it took him a moment before he hugged me back. Registering what I said, I quickly pulled back. “Sorry,” I murmur, clutching the handle of the basket tighter.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. “That was the reaction I was looking for,” He smirked and I blinked, my breath caught in my throat.

He jerked his head towards the books behind me and I closed my mouth, realizing I must’ve been staring at him like a gaping fish. “Thank you,” I say, normally this time, and spin on my heel to examine the titles and covers of the many volumes.

I was in the midst of skimming through some adventure tale when a glimpse of someone caught my eye. I looked up, spotting a blonde male in the aisle beside mine. My breath hitched and I quickly slammed the book shut, putting it back on the shelf and walking as fast as I could without running towards the other direction. I foolishly bumped into a hard chest before I could turn the corner.

Fortunately, it was only Azriel. His shadows swirled around my ankles worriedly. “Everything alright?” His hands come to my shoulders and I swallow thickly. “Yeah,” I nod, glancing back to the male in the other direction who I wish I didn’t recognize. I looked back to my husband but his gaze had already followed mine, picking up on what I was running away from.

“You know him?” His expression hardened.

“No!” I blurted out, terribly loud and I clapped my hand over my mouth nervously. He gave me a pointed look and my shoulders slumped. “Fine, yes. He was a patron at Madame Welder's organization,” I say with a hushed tone. “He always kept an eye on me. If you weren’t the one that won on my bidding day, it would’ve been him,” I explain in a murmur and his face contorts, not into anger but rather… amusement?

“What’s so funny?” I scowl.

“We’re married.” He grabbed my left hand, holding it up to showcase the ridiculously large diamond on my fourth finger. “Remember?” He tilts his head but my frown remains. “As far as I can tell, there’s no ring on his finger. This means two things, one: you’re taken. And two: you’re doing a lot better than he is,” He said unambiguously. I swallowed down my nerves.

“Yes, but this,” I gestured between the two of us. “It isn’t real,” I argue, keeping my voice low.

“It can be,” He smirks, and my flush returns. “To him, at least,” He goes on.

“What do you want me to do? Kiss you in front of him?” I cross my arms.

“I mean unless you want to keep hiding behind me then go right ahead, but when he looks over at you and recognizes not the ring on your finger, but your shyness he’s going to think you’re the same girl you were ten years ago.” He explains.

“I’m not.”

“I know that, but don’t you want him to know too?” He raises a brow.

“You’re just trying to manipulate me, so desperate for some touch in your life,” I narrow my gaze on him.

He smiled, then shrugged. “Have it your way, I’ll be over here.” He began to stroll towards the male I was so terrified of being seen by.

I cast a glance at the blonde and noticed he was walking closer. “Wait he’s coming over here,” I grabbed Azriel by his shirt and he stumbled towards me finding purchase on the shelf beside my head, caging me against it.

“Oh, now you want my help?” He taunted and I rolled my eyes.

“Shut up and kiss me already,” I pulled at his shirt again and he wasted no time in following my command.

His lips were tender against mine and warmed me so thoroughly that I thought about stripping from my winter jacket. We’ve kissed before, for our wedding, and a few times after that in front of crowds to prove our love, but it didn’t feel like any of the previous kisses this time.

Because this time it was just us, the rest of the world melting away as my arms sling around his neck, one of my hands tangling into his black hair while my other one traces lines on the top of his taut wings.

He pushed me back onto the shelf, cradling my hips as he pressed against me, needing our kiss to be deeper.

It could’ve been a peck, could’ve been an innocent, chaste moment. But when his tongue swiped at my lower lip I understood that both of us wanted so much more than that.

I opened my mouth, granting his tongue access and gods did it feel good to be explored so fervently by him. He was hungry, like he’d been aching to taste me for years and he wasn’t prepared to give me up anytime soon.

He shifted, kicking my legs wider, and pressed his knee against the apex of my thighs. Every nerve in my body thrummed in reaction, my back arching off the shelf, my chest pushing against his. I needlessly gripped his hair, using all my energy to resist grinding against his leg.

“Az,” I murmur onto his lips, trying to convince myself to pull away but my willpower wasn’t strong enough, because to be honest, the last thing I wanted to do was end this.

“Hm?” He murmurs in reply.

“We’re in public,” I reminded and he nodded, very aware of our surroundings, aware of everything in fact. His shadows were slithering up my torso sporadically. He removed his knee from my core and a soft sigh escaped my lips. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” He whispered, then kissed me gently once more, just a soft peck this time. I was slightly shaky as he pulled away entirely. I nodded, licking my lips and savoring the lingering taste of him.

I turned back to the bookshelf, completely forgetting about the blonde male across the way until an unfamiliar voice spoke from beside me. “Pardon me, can I get by you?” I turned to the sound, finding the blonde male. I froze for a moment. It wasn’t him. I had no idea who this man was. I was so stupid to think someone so wretched from the Hewn City would be here, in the most protected city in the world. I catch myself, quickly peeling my leaden feet from the floor, scooting closer to the shelf so he could pass.

Azriel looks at me, slightly alarmed. “It wasn’t him,” I murmur, and this time my husband’s amusement actually forms into a laugh.

“You just wanted me to kiss you,” He teases and she crinkles her nose in spite.

“It was your idea,” I huffed, stomping away to a separate aisle, far away from him. But he caught me quickly, his arms slinging over my shoulders as he hugged me from behind while I examined a display table of Sellyn Drake's new novel.

After what felt like only another moment my basket was filled and Azriel had paid for each book, making me promise that I’d be surprised when I opened them on Solstice morning.

We stepped back out into the cold, my hand in Azriel’s while his other held my heavy bag of books. I smiled greedily, looking up at him. A gust of wind blew past us and it wiped away my smile, a shiver running down my back as my eyes stung from the cold.

“Come on, let’s go home,” He pulled at my hand and I looked up at him curiously.

“What about Rhys’ present?” I say and he shrugs.

“You’re cold, I’ll find something for Rhys another time,” He proposed and I nodded, squeezing his hand a little tighter and inching closer. I blamed my body for seeking warmth but we both knew that the kiss we shared meant more than we played off.

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[elliaze]

Don't take my love away | j. velaryon

Warnings: spoiler! for the book, HEAVY!angst, twincest (let's be honest they are targaryen), their age has been changed, mention of sex (nothing descriptive), inspiration from Billie Eillish - CHIHIRO

Word Count: +1900

MASTERLIST

She remembered their first kiss. 

Innocent, because it was both their first time doing it.

Forbidden, because they shouldn't do it.

Jace was her twin brother. He was born just a few minutes after her. They were always together.

Maybe that was why it seemed inevitable. Or maybe that night, when they were both two–and–ten and fought with Aemond, they needed each other more than usual. 

Which wasn't true, because they had spent every moment together for years. 

Maybe it was the emotions that were running through them. Certainly hers, because even though the stealing of Vhagar was behind them, the maesters had dressed the wound on Jace's head and the one she had on her forehead, the adrenaline was still pumping through them. 

She remembered that they had both escorted Lucerys to his chambers and waited until their younger brother had fallen asleep from exhaustion. That evening – or even that morning – they both said Luce had been incredibly brave in standing up for them and taking Aemond's eye. They had also known that, as his older siblings, they should have been defending him, not the other way. They both felt a pang of guilt, and maybe that was the reason they had kissed.

She remembered that when they had finally reached Jacaerys's chambers, he had kept saying that he should have been faster, braver, more observant. He panicked, and she was afraid her brother wouldn't be able to control his breathing.

And then she kissed him. It had been a completely innocent kiss, but it had also been a confirmation that they meant so much more to each other than mere siblings.

She remembered his first touch. One where he touched her like a man could touch a woman.

They were six–and–ten, and the whole act seemed uncertain, even awkward. They didn't know what they were doing, and all they thought about was being as close to each other as possible.

This time, it wasn't just emotions that influenced it. They were completely aware of what they were doing and didn't think for a moment about stopping it. 

They wanted each other, their kisses and touch.

They didn't care about the consequences, or that they shouldn’t have done it. They both knew that sooner or later they would be forced to marry someone neither of them loved, and they shouldn't get so attached to each other when it was only a matter of time before they had to part ways.

But they couldn't stop. 

The thought of not being by each other's side was destroying their hearts to the core.

She remembered the first I love you he said to her, not as a brother, but as a man.

It was the day their mother found out about their forbidden affair and she couldn't do anything else but announce that they would get married. That evening, Jace came to her chamber, or rather rushed inside. She was sitting nervously in front of her mirror and combing her hair, when the sound of the door opening made her turn around.

“Jace…” she started, but he was quickly at her side. He grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her up, and then placed his hands on her cheeks. “What are you doing?"”

“I just wanted you to know how much I love you,” he confessed as honestly as she had never heard it. She felt as if her whole insides were melting under the influence of his words, as well as his gaze full of love and devotion. “You are my whole world. My life. Without you, there is no me. I love you like nothing else. I love you more than I love myself. You are the only one. You will always be.”

She had tears in her eyes when she heard his words, and at the same time she was unable to stop the charming smile and the blush that spread across her cheeks. She was happy and finally understood all those love stories she had read. In books, the couple in love were never related to each other, but in their case, she thought that it only worked in their favour.

It was inevitable.

“I love you too, Jacaerys. And I don't want to live without you. You’re everything I have and what matters to me. Our hearts are connected forever.” She confessed a moment before she connected their lips.

The kiss was calm at first, as if she just wanted to confirm her words with it. However, it quickly turned into a hot, lustful one. Her hands quickly landed in his curls, and his lifted her nightgown to her waist and stopped at her completely exposed thighs and hips. Jace lifted her up and led them to her bed. He laid her on the satin sheets, joining her immediately.

This time they knew exactly what they were doing. They both knew their bodies and knew how to extract the sweetest sounds of pleasure from each other. Their hands were clasped together the whole time, as if to make sure that it was real. She felt shivers every time he kissed her body, and Jace did not hold back to show her that everything she did was the sweetest pleasure for him.

When he entered her, their eyes met and they both connected their lips in a thirsty kiss. Their bodies moved in complete sync, as if this was what they were made for – to be together in the most intimate way possible, the closest they could be. She saw stars in her eyes, and when she came with his name on her lips, and Jace right after her, she thought this was exactly what she wanted. 

A future with Jacaerys. 

She saw them together, their children, and the whole happy, long life that lay ahead of them.

But that future didn't include them being embroiled in a bloody war. The Dance of the Dragons, they called it.

From the very beginning, they had to deal with the loss of loved ones. Lucerys, Rhaenys... Death came to them one by one, and both feared that it would eventually come for them. But every time it didn't, the fear was still there. Maybe it was their stupid luck that kept them alive. Or – as she liked to say – this world wouldn't be able to accept their deaths. They had to live because they loved each other so much that they wouldn't be able to survive without the other.

And she was rarely wrong.

And yet, this time she was.

The Battle of the Gullet was completely chaotic. The Velaryon fleet was fighting against the Triarchy with exceptional ferocity. But she didn't pay attention to which side had the upper hand at the moment. Her only goal was to find Jacaerys and Vermax. 

She didn't think she should even be there. Even though Vermithor, who had been her companion for many years, burned every enemy ship to ashes, giving the Velaryon fleet a slight advantage, all she could do was look around for the sight of the familiar dragon and its rider.

She remembered how the four of them had gone for rides many times. The young Vermax had always been relatively witty and ready to have fun with Vermithor. The old dragon might seem to ignore his younger brethren, but in the end, the two were very much bonded, in the same way as their riders.

Finally, she spotted Vermax, and somewhere on his back sat Jacaerys. Bolts and arrows flew towards them, and her heart was pounding as she realised that Jacaerys was too low and much more vulnerable to attack. She needed to do everything she could to protect them together with Vermithor, not even caring about her own safety.

However, she was unable to stop the bolts that hit Vermax. The dragon let out a terrible scream and began to fall down with its rider.

“JACE!” She screamed in horror. Her eyes misted and tears filled, and at that moment Vermithor was responsible for what had to be done. He fell down after the dead dragon, and all she could see was Vermax's body falling into the water. 

"We have to find him" she said to the dragon and Vermithor just screamed loudly and breathed fire that consumed one of the enemy ships. They circled for a while looking for Jacaerys until she finally managed to spot him on the beach not far from the fight. She could hear the sounds of battle clearly, so when she saw Jace standing on his own two feet, she knew she had to get him out of there as soon as possible before someone realised he was still alive.

Vermithor landed hard on the beach, and she slid down on his wing and ran to her brother. 

Jace was weak and wet. She also noticed an arrow in his arm, but the wound didn't seem serious enough to prevent them from escaping together.

“Y/N” she didn't hear him say her name, but she saw his lips moving. 

Jace breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was okay, and she did everything to get to him as quickly as possible. 

They were only a few metres away. 

A few steps away and then she would be able to take him in her arms and save him.

However, fate can be cruel. It takes away what we love without warning.

Neither she nor Jace noticed the arrow that was shot straight into his back. Jace stopped mid–step and staggered on his feet, and she had the impression that he was experiencing some worst nightmare. However, she didn't give up and still believed that they had a chance to survive. That she would manage to save him and get him to Dragonstone, where the maester would heal every wound on his body. 

There was still a chance. 

She believed in it with every fiber of her being, because if she lost him, she would die with him.

She was almost there when another arrow whistled. Jace watched her as she approached, as if he knew what was about to happen. 

There was no other thought in his head but her.

They had come into the world together. And she was also supposed to be there when he was about to leave it.

“Y/N” he ​​said to her before the last arrow hit his neck.

Jace fell, and she caught him in her arms at the last moment.

“Jace?” She whispered nervously, her voice breaking. “Jaecerys, wake up!” She touched his face, and his skin was still hot, just like it was always when she touched her. Hot dragon blood. “Jace, I beg you. I can’t live in a world without you.”

Her prayers were in vain, and when she kissed him for the last time, he was already dead.

She remembered their first kiss, touch, and declaration of love.

But she never wanted to remember the last time she tasted his lips, how he looked at her with love and told her he loved her. Their story had no right to end in such a drastic way.

They were only twenty. Their whole lives ahead of them. They deserved more time. 

They were supposed to be king and queen after they helped their mother get back what was rightfully hers. 

He had no right to die in front of her, and above all, to leave her alone in this cruel world.

She never believed in gods, but if one of them stood before her and asked her what she wanted, her answer would be only one.

Don’t take my love away from me.

She didn’t want to stay in this world when he was gone.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

[reidsworld]

The Time We Have

Summary: Logan struggles with the fear of dying and leaving Laura alone, but meeting you helps him find peace. Set in an AU where Logan does not die at the end of Logan (2017).

Paring: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Talks of death.

Word Count: 1.4k

Mars speaks… gif is from pinterest!

Masterlist

Logan’s knuckles ache, the bones beneath his skin creaking with every movement as if they’re finally giving in to the wear of time. It’s a pain that never quite leaves him anymore, a constant reminder that his body is failing him, betraying him in ways he never thought possible. He’s lived more lifetimes than most, fought more battles than he can count, and somehow, it’s this—this slow, inevitable decay—that feels like the cruelest blow of all.

He’s not afraid of dying. That’s never been something that scared him. He’s seen it too many times, come too close to it on too many occasions, to feel anything other than a resigned acceptance when he thinks about the end. But this… this slow, agonising decline is something different. It’s not the swift, clean death he always imagined for himself, the kind that comes in battle, in the heat of the moment. No, this is something that eats away at him bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but a shadow of the man he used to be.

And that scares him. Not the dying part—he’s made his peace with that—but the idea of leaving Laura alone in a world that’s anything but kind. He’s fought so hard to keep her safe, to give her a chance at a life he never thought he’d have to walk away from before it was time. The thought of her being alone, without anyone to protect her, has kept him up more nights than he can count.

He doesn’t talk about it. He’s never been one to share what’s on his mind, to let anyone see the cracks beneath the surface. But it’s there, every time he looks in the mirror and sees the new lines on his face, every time his claws take just a little longer to come out, every time he feels the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones.

It’s a bitter realisation, knowing that his time is running out. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he’s slowly dying and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. The adamantium that made him unbreakable is now his undoing, poisoning him from the inside out. And there’s no one left to save him, no one who can stop the inevitable.

He’s spent his life fighting, surviving against impossible odds, but this is a battle he knows he can’t win. It’s a fight he’s destined to lose, and it’s not something he’s ever been good at accepting.

And then, he met you.

You came into his life like a breath of fresh air, a light in the darkness that had consumed him for so long. He didn’t want to let you in at first, didn’t want to admit that you could make any kind of difference in the mess that his life had become. But you were persistent, stubborn in that way he’s come to admire, and somehow, without him even realizing it, you slipped past all the walls he’d built up around himself.

You weren’t like anyone he’d ever met. A mutant, yes, but your powers weren’t about brute strength or regeneration. Instead, you had the ability to manipulate energy, to create barriers and shields that could protect those around you. It was a power that reflected who you were—a protector, a guardian. And it was exactly what he and Laura needed. Before he knew it, he found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was Laura who first noticed the change in him, the way he seemed lighter somehow, less burdened by the weight of the world. She’d always been perceptive, too smart for her own good, and she didn’t hesitate to call him out on it.

“You’re different,” she said one day, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. “You’re… happier.”

Logan had grunted in response, not wanting to admit that she was right. He wasn’t used to being happy, wasn’t used to feeling anything other than anger or pain. But with you, it was different. You didn’t change his purpose; you just made the burden lighter, made it easier to carry on knowing you were by his side.

But you didn’t push him. You let him come to terms with it on his own, never demanding more than he was willing to give. You were patient, understanding in a way that made him feel like he could finally breathe, like he didn’t have to be on guard all the time.

And slowly, without even realising it, Logan found himself accepting the inevitable. He was dying—there was no denying that. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like a death sentence. It felt like… closure. Like maybe he could finally find peace, knowing that he wasn’t leaving Laura alone, that you’d be there, that you’d spend the rest of your life with him.

One night, as you lay curled up against him on the couch, your head resting on his chest, he found himself speaking the words that had been weighing on his mind for so long.

“I’m not gonna be around forever,” he said quietly, his voice rough with the weight of the truth. “I’m dying, and there’s nothin’ I can do to stop it.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you lifted your head to look at him, your eyes full of understanding and love. “I know,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

He let out a slow breath, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “I’m scared,” he admitted, the words coming out before he could stop them. “I’m not used to this… to not knowin’ what’s gonna happen. To not bein’ able to fight back.”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Logan,” you said, your voice full of warmth. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re not alone in this. Laura and I… we’re here for you, for as long as you need us.”

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “I don’t know how much time I have left,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But whatever time I do have… I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”

You smiled, a soft, loving smile that made his heart ache with something he couldn’t quite name. “Me too,” you said simply, as if there was no question, no doubt in your mind.

And in that moment, Logan felt something shift inside him. The fear, the uncertainty that had been gnawing at him for so long, began to fade. It didn’t disappear completely—he knew it never would—but it didn’t seem as overwhelming anymore. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had Laura. And that was enough.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he could hold on to this moment forever. You settled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in the scent of you—something that had become so familiar, so comforting.

And then he thought about Laura, about the future he’d once feared she’d face alone. But now… now he had hope. You were by his side, and together, you could give Laura the life she deserved. She’d have you to guide her, to be there when he was gone. And maybe, just maybe, she’d have a sibling to watch over her when both of you were long gone.

For the first time in a long time, Logan felt like he could finally accept what was happening to him. He was dying—there was no escaping that. But it didn’t feel like the end. It felt like… a beginning. A chance to live the life he’d never thought he’d have, with you by his side.

And when the time came, when the poison inside him finally took its toll, he knew he wouldn’t be alone. He’d have you, and he’d have Laura. And that was more than he’d ever hoped for.

So, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of your presence wash over him, and for the first time in his long, tumultuous life, Logan felt at peace.

Mars speaks… (again) Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Will Never Leave You (Daemon x Reader)

I think this more a love letter to Rhaenyra than anything but I’m really proud of this one cause I adore writing characters like this, I hope you guys enjoy it

Rhaenyra adored her mother since she drew her first breath, yet the woman she admired the most and desperately seemed her nod of approval was her beloved aunt (y/n) Targaryen, the middle child of prince Baelon and princess Alyssa, the seat between the brothers suited her, (y/n) had the good heart and the bright mind of her older brother that went hand in hand with the wild spirit and the constant need to protect the ones she called her own that she passed down to Daemon.

(Y/n) had been by Rhaenyras side when she needed her the most, wrapping her arms around the shaking frame of the young princess burying her face at the crook of (y/n)s neck.

“Dracarys”

Even though the dragon was not (y/n)s, beautiful Syrax complied whilst Rhaenyra broke down at the arms of her aunt, (y/n) ran her fingers through Rhaenyras long hair to offer her comfort as she whispered the lullaby she would sing to her when she was little.

She had also been the one to almost harass her beloved brother and king to name Rhaenyra his heir.

“As much as I love my lord husband, he is not fit to lead, the weight of the realm will crush him until he bursts into flames, we can prevent this, you can prevent this”

“And name Rhaenyra my heir? A queen has not sat the iron throne”

“Why not name the princess your heir? She is the second born”

Otto had questioned, (y/n) side eyed the man before she looked down to collect her thoughts, the wound of her brothers digging their claws on that piece of metal had brought such mental combat between them, turning blood against one another, if she had taken a go at them then all efforts for a harmonious family would have gone to war ages ago.

“I am afraid it is too late for me to claim what could have been or some could argue “should have been” but the time is just right for my niece, Rhaenyra is the result of the love you shared with the late queen Aemma, you have already wronged her, do not turn your back on the only thing you have left of her”

(Y/n) and Daemon had wed a fortnight after Viserys and Aemma, their wedlock’s were as similar as the sun with the moon, Daemon and (y/n) mirrored one another, their fire burned bright and their thick skulls could cause the the strongest storm to lash, still at the end of the day they ended up in each others arms, holding each other tight and whispering words of love and admiration.

(Y/n) was the only one that could keep Daemon on a leash, staying by his side as he raged for the “disrespect” their brother had shown, in a delicate manner (y/n) would always grab his hand and bring it up to her cheek to ground him.

“I love you and your bravery, however I do despise when you let your rage overtake everything that’s good in you, let me fix this for you”

Daemon would always take her in his arms and kiss her lips with all the might he could master. (Y/n) was his life line, her eyes were like a much needed breath after a deep dive, her smile resembled the feeling of the brisk air on the early hours of a summer day, her hair was as soft as a birds feather as it brushed on his skin, and her touch, oh that touch of hers…like a soothing balm on Daemons wounded heart.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“We must fly to kings landing by the morrow”

“Has something happened?”

“Lucerys’s claim is at question by Vaemond, Lord Corlys has not even passed and they are already circling around Rhaenyra like crows”

(Y/n) half mumbled half explained whilst her fingers rubbed circles on her temples, (y/n) had never voiced it still a pang of guilt ate her soul as slow as the carnivores ate their dead prey whenever she exchanged letters with Rhaenyra, she gave up on her, she left her alone to fight against those Hightowers, withering away as the bastards started to tighten the rope around the heiress’s neck.

Daemon puffed out a breath, the conversation had always been the same, (y/n) would often bring up her concerns over Rhaenyras well being, asking Daemon if mayhaps they made a mistake by leaving her, fabricating elaborate scenarios of how things could have been different.

With caution Daemon approached his lady wife and once he reached her he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles on her aching shoulders as she slouched back and a grunt of pleasure left her, the flames from the fireplace licking her face in such a complimenting light, had he not touched her he could assume she was just an extremely accurate portrait from the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist.

“Rhaenyra is strong, she will overcome this”

“Rhaenyra is alone, our brother is barely able to make a sentence, she cannot stand alone at court”

“And what do you think our presence will do? We have been cast away for far too long, no one will pay attention to what we have to say on the matter, besides, driftmark is none of our responsibility”

After the birth of their first born daughter Enora Daemon and (y/n) decided to leave kings landing and reside in Pentos, granting protection with their dragons they were gifted with land and lived like the Targaryens only knew how to live.

“It is under the Targaryen rule, our closests bond to old Valyria”

“Dragons are our bond, which we have our own”

(Y/n) stood up from her chair to face her lord husband, fury that intertwined with confusion painted across her face as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips half open from the shock that his dismiss had caused.

Daemon resented when they fought, he did not enjoy his love being cross with him, though he loved a battle he would hang on dear life on anything and say whatever to make her curl up in his arms with content.

“You do not want to come with me” (y/n) stated

“I do not believe we will change anything”

“You believe that? Out of all I thought you would be the one to get on your dragon the fastest”

“You are with child, our other children are happy here, must we indulge in that mess?”

“That mess? Our brother has been crippled, our niece tortured by the Hightower and now she asks for our aid and you think I will just ignore it”

“You are emotional”

“I am, and proud of it, I will fly to kings landing with my children, you can choose to stay and hide behind our thick and tall walls of this castle. I will not leave our legacy, our blood, to slowly perish. It is your decision at the end of the day”

Daemon puffed out of breath before he reached for (y/n)s arms to which (y/n) stepped back to avoid, her eyes that spewed fire starring right into his soul.

(Y/n) was the diplomat out of the pair, one can imagine the surprise of her stubbornness when it came to this, which also revealed how important this was for (y/n).

“You mustn’t get upset in your condition”

“That is something you should remember, I was fine until I saw that the years turned you into a coward”

(Y/n) spat inches away from his face, with hurried and swift motions she intentionally bumped his shoulder as she made her exit of their chamber, Daemon did not catch a wink of sleep, (y/n) had never slept at another chamber separately since they had wed.

As the sun started to shyly make its descent (y/n) was assisting her three children on their dragons for their journey to kings landing.

“Hold on”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder to find her husband with his dragon walking towards them, she had to admit that leaving without him would have costed her a great deal, she wanted him by her side, to help her, to hold her, to have her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“My astonishing devotion to you and your stubbornness, I won’t leave you alone with the wolves”

Daemon reassured her before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a smile making its way to (y/n)s lips as she gazed at him with love, that sparkle of joy was what kept Daemon alive, he would risk anything to see her well.

A giggle that came from their youngest children interrupted their sweet moment, Daemon and (y/n) looked up as the twins sat on their dragons, admiring the deep affection that oozed out of their parents, Daemon only winked at his children in response and turned back to his lady wife.

“Allow me dearest”

A shriek was heard when Daemon swiped the princess off her feet and lifted her up at her green dragon Zephyr. The family landed unexpectedly since they had not given any information to their visit, Otto and Alicent were fuming upon their arrival, the pair would stir the pot and cause chaos all in the princesses name, Otto was certain of it.

However no one could expect the ever defiant (y/n) holding Viserys by his right arm and the stoic prince Daemon holding the king by the left.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, and the rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with princess (y/n) Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Time stood still as they entered the throne room, (y/n) had persisted on visiting her brother, encouraging him to stand and back Rhaenyras claim, begging him to find his strength and sit on the iron throne.

“I will sit the throne today”

Viserys was able to say to Otto who only bowed his head and stepped aside. When (y/n) gently assisted her brother to sit comfortably his crown managed to move and fall, Daemon was the one that caught it and placed it back on Viserys head. As the pair took a step back (y/n) was the first to curtsy in front of him.

“My king”

She whispered before she smiled, Viserys managed to get a hold of her hand and bring it up to his deformed lips, as cold and slimy the weird texture of his lips left on her hand (y/n) looked back on that memory until the end of her days, as many times as they fought (y/n) held a spot for Viserys, one of loyalty and respect.

Daemon snaked his arm around her waist as they went down the steps and took their place next to a baffled and ecstatic Rhaenyra, (y/n) subtly nodded and side eyed Rhaenyra letting her know she is her for her.

As Viserys reaffirmed Lucerys claim and Rhaenys announced the betrothal of Baela and Rhaena (y/n) was ready to turn and hug her dear niece when Vaemond stepped in front of the king, interrupting the glorious moment.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, don’t you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon, No, I will not allow it”

“Allow it? I do not think anyone hear asked for your opinion Ser…. Apologies I haven’t been at court in so long, what is your name?”

(Y/n)s words sliced through Vaemond like Valyrian steel and Rhaenyra struggled to hide her chuckle, Daemon stood proudly by her side though his grip tightened around her waist when Vaemonds eyes fell on her for a brief moment before he pointed to Lucerys.

“THAT! is no true Velaryon and certainly not a nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra as the mother that she is took a step forward to stand closer to Vaemond and in front of Lucerys, what no one had seen was an important question that (y/n) had whispered at her husband.

“Which side is your sword on today?”

“Go to your chambers, you’ve said enough”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson and you are no more than the second son of drift mark”

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine, my house survived the doom”

“To which you owe it to much greater men than you Vaemond, men that knew their place and played their part in history, something that you refuse to do”

“And you think that you can tell me what my place is? Your brother skipped over you and gave the name of heir to your niece, the gods know what you have done to make him skip over you and your… husband, my name survived and gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this”

“Say it, say it”

Daemon antagonised the man, (y/n) assumed her position and slipped away from Daemons grip, her hand gliding from his back all the way down to his sword, dark sister, and pulled it out the sound of metal brushing against its scabbard was enough to make (y/n) grind her teeth in annoyance, thankfully no one seemed to pay attention to what she was up to.

Except Daemon whom had already a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he internally thanked whoever blessed him to change his mind and was now going to be a witness on this wonderful event and as he viewed it “important milestone” in his lady wife’s life.

Vaemond was caught in his own fury and sense of entitlement to see his end coming, even if he had seen (y/n) with a sword he would pay her no mind, a man of such ignorance wouldn’t feel threaten by a woman with a swollen belly or any woman for that matter.

“Her children are BASTARDS and she.is.a.whore”

“I will have your tongue for that”

Daemon watched with pride as his wife lifted the sword and with one clean slice Vaemonds head was cut right above his tongue. Enora was taken aback by her mothers acts while her two siblings Alastor and Aelia hid behind their fathers legs to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight of the corpse at such a young age.

(Y/n) stood still as the sword touched the ground to support her, glaring down at the man that had so much to say, a man that thought himself as indestructible and yet he laid on the cold floor as his blood gushed out of him and pooled on the ground.

“He can keep his tongue, to explain his treachery to the gods”

“Disarm her”

Otto commanded as his voice boomed through the throne room like a proper king that would command his kings guards to obviously attack (y/n), though the real king -Viserys- had just opened his mouth to stop this when Daemon took only a step forward.

“Don’t you dare”

Daemon warned them, in a rather surprisingly composed way for the situation Daemon approached her and took the sword from her, wiping it away at his clothes lazily before he placed it back on its original spot, his hand brushed a few strands of hair that had moved and let it glide behind her shoulder, he preferred it when her hair was out of her face, so he can fully take in her beauty.

(Y/n) was seen smiling brightly, basking in her accomplishment that was so grotesque that some reported that a numerous ladies that had been witnesses had fainted or vomited at the sight.

“You must rest, my love”

“Before that”

(Y/n) proclaimed, she left her husbands side momentarily only to stand before Rhaenyra, her hands going up to cup her nieces cheeks and place a kiss on top of the heiress head, a gesture that held such affection and compassion, (y/n) had Rhaenyra in her heart and her mind as her own daughter, images of the princess running careless on the grass and finding refuge in (y/n)s hug flashed before (y/n)s eyes.

“My dear niece”

“(Y/n)” Rhaenyra breathed out

“I will never leave you, ever”

Requests are open!

[kasagia]

Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes. 

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog ​​bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Vanity

Aemond uncorks his bottled frustrations. You listen whilst combing his hair.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader | 700< | cw: implied targ sibs, implied marriage, gender neutral!reader, whiny!aemond, hurt/comfort-ish, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: my birthday gift for @pendragora 🫶🫶🫶 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda

@risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa @lxdyred

I groan and lift my head from my pillow. I squint at the darkness, reaching out for the lamp on the bedside.

"Go back to sleep."

"Aemond?" my voice croaks. I slowly sit up and light my lamp. From across the room, I see a long haired man changing out of his riding gear.

I hum and lean on the headboard, "how was it?"

He chucks his boots off with more force than necessary. He repeats, colder, "go back to sleep."

Needless to say I'm wide awake.

I huff and push my blanket off me. I stand and whimper at the feel of the cold floor on my bare feet. I pass looking for my slippers and simply walk towards Aemond.

He spots me by the time he's removed his tunic. He pinches the bridge of his nose and chastises me in High Valyrian.

I ignore him, and once I'm close enough, I grab his hips. I pull him towards me and undo his breeches, "and when have I ever listened to you?"

He watches as I unlace his ties. I get him pants and a shirt from his drawer, handing them to him. He begins to change. Just before I can ask him what's wrong, he tells me himself, "mother has ordered me not to join uncle in his travel."

I hum and cross my arms.

Aemond's shirt collar hangs by his shoulder. He secures his pants and scoffs, "it's not as though I was who made those plans."

"And well made plans they were, my love," I adjust his loose fitting shirt, "Lord Hightower will benefit greatly from it."

"Yes, I can-"

I push him towards the vanity.

He sits on the chair, "-only hope-"

I light the candles on the vanity.

"-the great Ser Gwayne Hightower will make good use of it."

I press my lips as I walk behind him.

He grabs the comb on the vanity top and hands it to me.

I take it from him, stroking his hair once before combing it.

Aemond crosses his arms, "mother thinks me a helpless boy with one eye."

I tilt my head and section his hair.

Aemond stares at me through the mirror. His face twists at the lack of response. He tightens his arms around himself and I finally catch the expression on his face.

I flatten my lips before kissing the crown of his head. I remove his eye patch and place it on the table. He looks at me with expectation. I clutch his cheek and comb his hair away from his face, "you know that's not true, Aemond."

He turns back to the mirror. He purses his lips and slumps on his seat.

"Has the queen ever decided on anything without reason?"

"She's afraid," he dismisses.

I knit my brows and comb my fingers through his silky hair before using the brush.

"She's afraid of Daemon."

I tuck his hair behind his ear.

"She should know not to show it." He looks up at me, "I am not. Him and his ride are no match for Vhagar and I."

I rest my hands on his shoulder momentarily.

"He would do well not to face me."

I circle behind his chair and continue brushing his tresses, "he would."

He straightens up and rests his hands on his lap, "Caraxes is no match for Vhagar. She is nearly twice the wyrm's size, and has seen the fires of the Conquest."

"Indeed, my love," I part his hair, placing the ones I've gone over to his chest.

He tilts his head, "a wise warrior would know when to pick his battles."

"A wise warrior would know when to pick his battles."

By the time I was finished with his hair, he too was finished and was no longer as tightly wound as when he'd arrived. I place the comb back on the vanity and he stands.

I look him once over with a soft smile. I swipe his chin with my thumb, "pretty."

He brings an arm around me, pulling me in to kiss my temple.

I press my hands on his chest and urge him back, "off to bed with you then. I'm exhausted."

"Mmm," he leans down and kisses my neck. He mutters in High Valyrian, "when have I ever listened to you?"