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strawbeerossi · 6 months

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Taking Calls

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever a man who makes you feel uncomfortable asks for your number, you give him your boyfriend’s number instead. Whenever he texts him all day and finally decides to call, Spencer plans on taking care of it.

Content/Warnings: Minor case details (nothing explicit), creep officer, loving boyfriend Spencer, intimidation mention, kissing, unprotected sex, Spencer answers a phone call in the middle of sex (I didn’t know how to word that so it works lmao.)

Word Count: 1.2K

Anon Request: I had a spicy idea where a creepy cop tries to get readers number for “work purposes” and instead she gives him Spencer’s number and the cop happens to call Spencer and reader while he’s in the middle of fucking reader or the reader is in the middle of giving him a blowjob and the cop sort of hears her in the background? I just thought you’d be the perfect person to write this 😍

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie @lov1ngreid @sobbingcryingattsizzles @doriantomybasil @thegluesong @rosiehale23

Spencer had his number given out before due to a prank on Derek’s end that had so many people blowing up his phone. It was something he vowed that he would get the man back for and specifically state that it could never happen again.

The team was on a case in Manhattan, a standard killer who had an awakened blood lust was terrorizing the city. After six victims, the NYPD felt it was best to invite the BAU onto the case, which seemed to be too little too late due to the man going dormant.

Every lead was buried so deep that you’d need an excavator to dig them up, still the team persisted. You were currently on day three, staying back at the police precinct along with Dave to interview the families of the deceased, hoping to dig up any leads.

You had currently stepped out for a brief break, standing by the coffee machine as you were getting one of the disposable cups, filling it to the brim with a healthy mixture of coffee and sugar. “Hey, Y/L/N, correct?” A voice came from behind you, making you turn to look over the person addressing you. Officer Laslow. “Hi, yes. That’s me. How can I help you?” You asked, eyebrows raising.

You didn’t like to judge people, however you had a very uneasy feeling around him. The way he was looking at you was a good enough reason to be uncomfortable, the man seeming to mentally undress you as he stared into your soul. “I was just wondering if your team had any leads? I mean, I’m sure the families know something,” He spoke, making you sigh as your shoulders slumped. “Nothing, unfortunately.” You spoke while sipping from the coffee cup in your hands.

“Nothing? What a shame. I was actually wondering if you and I could exchange numbers? No funny business, I’m just wanting to make sure we can stay in communication throughout this case. You know, share intel.”

He could’ve just asked Aaron for updates. However, in the moment of being uncomfortable and not knowing what to say, you were clearing your throat. “Well. Okay.. Just for intel though.” You murmured, slowly taking the device from his hands to put in Spencer’s number instead of your own. You’d explain things to your boyfriend later. Until then, you were doing the next best option. Spencer could handle this. You were sure of it.

As another day passed and there was no leads, the team was retreating to the hotel for the night to try and get some rest, even if they were overly focused on trying to catch the murderer running around freely. “Honey, I have a question.” Spencer began as he was walking from the bathroom, a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a white t-shirt clinging to his lanky frame. “I’ve just had a lot of texts today. The person is addressing you by name. Wanna talk about who you gave my number to?” He asked softly. He knew it had to be a big deal if you wouldn’t give someone your number.

“Some creep on the NYPD team. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me, Spencer. It made me so uncomfortable.” You shivered while looking over at your boyfriend. “I’m sorry that I gave him your number. I didn’t know what else to do.” The feeling of his hand rubbing your shoulder caused your body to relax, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“I’m not upset with you by any means. I just wanted to ask. He didn’t try and touch you or force himself on you, right?” He asked, slowly letting his arm wrap around your shoulders as you shook your head. “No. Nothing like that. He was just twice my size and intimidating. I mean, he could’ve hurt me if I rejected him.” In this job, Spencer saw cases like that far too much, so he believed it.

“Come here.” He spoke while slowly pressing a few kisses against your cheek. “It’ll be okay. I’ll speak with Hotch about it tomorrow. It’ll get taken care of.” He smiled, the back of his knuckle gently caressing your cheek. “How did I get so lucky to be with you?” You asked softly, offering a smile as you leaned against his touch. “I’m the lucky one.” He mused, now moving to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

However, the kiss was only cut short whenever he could hear the ringtone on his phone designated for texts. “This guy is a real piece of work.” Your boyfriend muttered against your lips, opting to ignore the incessant sounds coming from his phone as he carried on your shared kiss. As the kids deepened, his hands were working to push your shirt over your head before his hands were working on your work pants. You hadn’t changed just yet, so he felt like he was definitely helping you out in the grand scheme of things.

Once you were undressed to his liking, it wasn’t long until your own hands were pushing at his clothes to bring him to the same level of unclothed as you were. “Lay down.” Spencer breathed as he broke the kiss, watching you push yourself back in bed before he was crawling on top of you to attach your lips once more. You were both eager, a lot of stress from this case as well as your own yearning for pleasure making things go just a little faster than usual. He used one hand to bring one of your legs around his waist, which prompted you to mirror your actions with your other leg.

Pushing your panties to the side, your boyfriend wasted no time pushing his cock inside of your eager cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as the hand propping him up was gripping the sheets. “Fuck. I love you.” He whispered, pressing a few sweet kisses to your lips. For once today, you felt like you could forget the officer from earlier, to enjoy the moment. Until Spencer was getting a call. “Are you kidding?” He huffed out of frustration, hips still thrusting at a slow pace as he was reaching over to take his cellphone from the bedside table.

“W-we should stop.” You breathed, knowing he had to take the call judging by the look on his face. “No. No, just lay there and take it, pretty girl. I’m gonna settle this once and for all.” He murmured. Before you could object, he was swiping to answer the call. “I don’t appreciate being ignored.” The male on the other end of the phone huffed. Just hearing his slimy voice had Spencer cringing. Using his shoulder to hold the phone up to his ear, he let out a soft breath. His hips thrusted into you at a faster speed, your lip tucked between your teeth as you really did try to keep quiet.

“She’s busy but I can take a message.” Spencer answered as if he wasn’t jackhammering you into the mattress right now, whines and moans slipping from your lips as you couldn’t hold them back anymore. “Who is this?” The officer asked, now his annoyance being clear as day. “Spencer!” You gasped out, answering his question without even being aware of it.

“You heard her. Tell the nice man on the phone who has the pleasure of fucking you.” Spencer grunted, making you red in the face as you gripped his upper arms. “You!”

“My name, baby. Tell him who gets to take you home every night.”

“Spencer!” You panted, head tossed back as he was pounding into your sweet spot.

“Now. If you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to. I hope you get the hint.” He murmured.

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid smut #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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etfrin · 4 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — prologue | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | coriolanus is his own warning, mentions of death, elitism, self harm (Coryo burns his wrist)

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 eight year old Coryo finds out who his soulmate is and his feelings about it

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 this is the first official post about this series that I started on a whim! I am excited to see where this goes, please give me feedback, thank you!

series taglist | series masterlist | navigation

It started with Sejanus. Despite being friends with the boy, eight-year-old Coriolanus Snow couldn't help but loathe the fact the boy had District blood.

Sejanus' presence in the Capitol Academy was an insult to all of Capitol. He couldn't comprehend how it was all allowed before he heard the whispers. Sturbo Plinth bought his way in with money.

Money. The one thing a Snow should be entitled to and yet has none of. Even the power his name held was dwindling. Coriolanus will do anything to make sure ‘Snow lands on top'.

With that vow, Coryo gently brushed his thumb over the tattoo on his wrist. A number, something of significance for his soulmate. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he traced over the dark lines. He felt instantly calm.

Everything is going to be alright.

His soulmate will be a princess, a goddess, a rich Capitol girl no one can compare to. He will have a happy ending with her. Snows will rise on top, and his girl will be beside him every step of the way. The First Lady of Panem as he will be the president.

He vividly remembers the day all of his hopes were crushed. It was a couple of weeks after Sejanus started attending the academy. The boy was mocked by everyone, and Coriolanus thought it was deserved, a district boy was nothing more than an animal.

Then came the district girl, this one from District One, the district closest to the Capitol. But still not the same. The girl from the district was the prettiest he had ever seen. Although she's district. She had claimed the hearts of the teachers, and in return received many privileges. It was rumored that even the dean had a soft spot for her.

It was understandable why. She was a girl with a sweet smile, a secret sharp tongue, and hidden cruelty in her eyes he wasn't sure anyone saw except him. Her eyes always softened when she looked at him but she was always friendlier with Sejanus. Pea in a pod sticks together after all.

It was a bright day, a hot summer making him sweat in his uniform more than the walk to the academy did. That was the day he felt his heart break, and soul crushed. It was completely by accident. Sejanus and you thinking that maybe, you were soulmates. And Coriolanus thought so too, after all, you both were so close, attached to the hip.

Coriolanus felt like he was intruding into something private whenever he was near you both. With your shared giggles and secret smiles, you were as close as children could be.

When you raise your shirt sleeve revealing your soulmate's tattoo, the date is meant to be the most significant to your soulmate. Sejanus didn't recognize it but Coriolanus did, much to his nightmare.

It was the date most important to him. It was the day of his mother's and unborn sister's death. The day he lost someone he held so close to his heart. That's the number etched on your skin.

No. No! He grabbed your wrist, ignoring your yelp and the protest from Sejanus. His eyes were wide and he felt his body shake. “No. . .” He whispered, a sob in his throat.

“What's wrong?” You asked, trying to get your hand out of his hold, and due to his weak, underweight body, you did it easily enough. You rub your wrist and wait for Coryo's answer.

You don't get one because Coriolanus Snow had turn away and begun to walk away from you and Sej.

When he reached his home, his body was shaking and fat drops of tears falling from his eyes. A district girl as his? Never, never in a thousand years. His dead father would have been so disappointed. He refused to accept her as his.

He won't. Ever.

Tigris tried to ask what happened, but Coryo ignored her. He went into the kitchen, turning on the stove. The fire burned blue and orange. He didn't hesitate, ignoring the scream from Tigris as he put his wrist forward. He bit his lips to not scream himself.

By that time, Tigris had pulled him back. The skin had burned, along with it was gone the soulmate tattoo of his. He let himself sob as Tigris tried to fix him up as much as she could. She didn't scold him, couldn't, when he was crying like he had lost everything, all of his dreams shattered and the reality had settled in.

This was ten years ago, he decided he had no soulmate.

Now as eighteen, he wondered if it would remain true.

next chapter!

Taglist: @tristanswildcat

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andy-15-07 · 2 months

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hi! I love your feyd rautha fics 🥰 can you write one where the reader is pregnant with his child, a female, and he’s upset and cold with the reader because she’s not a male heir? but then, when she’s born, he’s so transfixed by her beauty and just the fact that she’s his, and that he just melts and swears to kill anyone for her?

My precious one

masterlist ! pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader

Dune Masterlist

The halls of the fortress echoed with an air of tension as Y/n, heavily pregnant with Feyd Rautha's child, moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors. Feyd, the formidable heir to House Harkonnen, had been distant and cold ever since learning the gender of their unborn child. Tradition demanded a male heir, and Y/n's heart ached with the weight of disappointment as she faced the impending birth of a daughter.

"Y/n," Feyd's voice, usually smooth and commanding, was laced with discontent as he entered their chambers. "What use is a daughter to the House of Harkonnen? You were to bear me a son, a worthy successor."

Y/n's eyes welled with tears, but she fought to maintain her composure. "Feyd, she is still our child, a part of both of us. She will carry the blood of House Harkonnen."

He scowled, turning away. "A daughter will bring us nothing but weakness. I need an heir who can command respect, instill fear in our enemies. This changes everything."

As the days passed, Feyd distanced himself further, leaving Y/n feeling isolated and burdened. The weight of disappointment settled upon her like a heavy cloak, but she clung to the hope that when their daughter arrived, Feyd's heart would soften.

The day of reckoning came, the air thick with anticipation as Y/n went into labor. Feyd, though present, maintained a stoic silence, his eyes betraying the turmoil within. The labor was arduous, but when the cries of their newborn daughter filled the room, Y/n felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief.

"She's here, Feyd," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Our daughter."

Feyd's eyes met the tiny, squirming bundle in Y/n's arms, and for a moment, the hardness in his gaze softened. The baby girl had a delicate beauty that seemed to captivate him, a sight that defied his earlier expectations.

"What shall we name her?" Y/n asked, her heart swelling with love for their precious child.

"Feydra," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a tenderness that surprised them both.

Feydra's arrival sparked a transformation in Feyd. The once cold and distant heir was now consumed by an overwhelming protectiveness and love for his daughter. As he held her for the first time, his fingers traced the contours of her tiny face, and he couldn't help but marvel at her innocence.

"She's ours, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I will do anything to protect her. No harm shall come to our Feydra."

From that moment on, Feyd became an attentive and devoted father. He would spend hours cradling Feydra in his arms, his stern countenance replaced by a softness that only she could evoke. The fortress, once a place of cold authority, became a haven for the blossoming love between father and daughter.

As Feydra grew, Feyd's determination to shield her from the harsh realities of their world intensified. He vowed to eliminate any threat that dared to cast a shadow over her, swearing to protect her with a fierceness that only a father's love could inspire.

One day, as father and daughter strolled through the fortress gardens, Feyd's eyes gleamed with an unspoken promise. "Feydra, my precious one, you are the future of House Harkonnen. No harm will befall you as long as I draw breath. I would destroy worlds to keep you safe."

Feydra, oblivious to the dangers that lurked beyond the fortress walls, gazed up at her father with adoration. In those moments, Feyd's heart swelled with a love that transcended bloodlines and tradition. The bond between father and daughter had forged a legacy that defied the expectations of House Harkonnen, proving that love could be a force more powerful than any political alliance or familial obligation.

#feyd rautha harkonnen x you #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagines #feyd rautha #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd oneshot #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler imagines #austin butler #austin butler x y/n #dune x reader #dune imagines #dune imagine #dune fanfiction #dune part 2

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orionremastered · 25 days

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Hybrid/shapeshifter golden tiger reader as a vigilante with batfam? I really love your writing :0

They're so PRETTY how did I not know they existed before???? Also I love shifter fics bc who doesn't

Masterlist

Part Two

Golden

Being a shifter is bad in this day and age, at least until the shifter is mature enough to shift on command. Before then, young shifters can shift with any strong emotion, especially negative ones like anger and fear.

Most shifters mature when they turn into adults, which means they're either taught to become temporary psychopaths or are homeschooled until they're mature enough.

You, like many shifters, were the latter. Now that you're in university and studying biology, living in your own apartment states away from your parents, you're free. So incredibly free.

Free to be you, free to talk to people who interest you, and free to fight the lowly criminals of Goth- wait, what?

It was an accident, you swear. You couldn't bear to hear that poor little girl's blood-curdling screams (you hadn't understood what the phrase meant before, but you sure do now) any longer, so you shifted and almost, but not quite, mauled the man to death.

"Pretty kitty!" she had called you, and from then on you vowed to look after the young kids of Gotham, especially when going to and coming from school as well as at night (if you weren't studying). Sometimes you simply lay in the bushes of a park and watched over the kids as they played on the playground.

They remained your main focus (though you did save others, you mostly watched over the young children) even when the press got wind of the golden tiger shifter vigilante. "Golden" is what they called you, and it was certainly better than other names the press had given vigilantes before.

The local bat population had gotten word of your existence beforehand and had tried to even just get a glimpse of you, but you were too quick. After the press got wind, they amped up their efforts.

You've decidedly had enough of your studying and walked out of your apartment, climbing into the window of an ashy-smelling abandoned building, the charcoal staining your fingers as you moved into the dark to shift.

One could guess what happened to the building, but it didn't have anything to do with a golden tiger climbing out its window on a cool early spring night, the snow thawing slower than usual. There weren't many people on the streets at this hour which you were glad for.

You take your normal route today, going through the less fortunate neighbourhoods where kids are most commonly found. Slushy snow drenches your paws in cold water as you leap onto the next roof and climb down the stairs on the side of the building.

There's a bundle of blankets placed gently into a plastic bucket. You nudge the bundle with your nose gently and when the wailing begins you huff. Another abandoned baby; it's the third one this month. A mother you can't afford a child or is scared for the child's safety when it comes to the father.

Your teeth close around the bucket and you begin carrying the baby to the hospital in Crime Alley, a long trek from where you picked the baby up.

You hear something. Whispers. Your ears rotate to find the source of the sound which would be impossible for a human to hear.

"That's the tiger?"

"No shit," the second voice hisses, much older than the first. "What else could it be? A cow?"

"Whatever," the first one replies. "What do we do? Think that's a baby?"

"Probably. I say we take the baby and bring it to the hospital."

You turn your head to where the sound is coming from, impeccable vision allowing you to see Robin and Red Hood perched on a building above you.

"What about the- how good is a tiger's hearing?"

You do trust these vigilantes but not more than you trust yourself. You flick your tail and continue walking, a few corners from the hospital. The sound of their grappling hooks as the vigilantes follow you are only able to annoy you.

There's the hospital, just at the end of the street. You take no more than two steps before Red Hood steps out in front of you. You aren't surprised as you could hear him the entire time.

"Can I have the baby?" He asks, hand outstretched as he gestures for you to hand it over.

Your eyes narrow and you turn to see Robin behind you.

"It'll be easier for me to get it to the hospital," he explains. "They won't react calmly to a tiger carrying a baby."

He had an unfortunately valid point. The other times where you'd brought a baby into a facility, people freaked out.

Reluctantly, you gently place the bucket on the cold pavement and step back, letting the vigilante pick it up.

As Red Hood takes the baby to the hospital, you turn fully to face Robin. He's short and you reach up to the start of his ribcage.

"You're not an easy tiger to locate," he says. "It takes a few idiots."

You make a sound akin to a laugh, turn your head and vanish into the alleyway beside you.

Robin curses himself for not getting to pat the tiger. He'll be damned if his siblings get to first.

#batfam #batfamily x reader #damian wayne x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #batfamily #tim drake x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 29 days

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Lost Time

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Jason comes home to you, his wife, after a mission and makes up for lost time.

Warnings: fluff and comfort! brief mention of the Lazarus Pit and human trafficking

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

A/N: I really want to write a lengthy oneshot for Jason but I don't know if I capture him well enough. I don't get many DC requests but I love them so much!!

Picture from Pinterest (WFA Jason >>>)

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

Jason Todd leaves, it’s what he does. Sometimes there are warnings, direct and indirect, but other nights he leaves while you sleep or simply doesn’t come home when he should. That’s who he is, what he does. There is more to Jason than meets the eye; he isn’t just Jason, Red Hood, or Bruce Wayne’s dead and nearly forgotten son. One piece of Jason makes him whole: being your husband brings him back, every single time. Jason leaves, but the time you spend alone is spent in confidence that he will come back to you, even if he’s broken and crawling.

While Jason is in Blüdhaven helping his brothers with a mission that Bruce doesn’t know about, you spend the time alone missing him. He hates leaving you, but you understand. That doesn’t mean, however, that you just wait for him to come home. Being married is supposed a 50/50 arrangement, yet you have given everything to Jason and there is not a single thing you wouldn’t do for him.

Tonight, nearly 96 hours after you last saw Jason, you make yourself comfortable with one of his books. The pages are yellowed from use, and highlights and notes fill the margins and the empty pages. Each word reminds you of Jason, and though you miss him, you refuse to look at his empty side of the bed. In the time since he left, promising to come back to you with a kiss and a tap to your wedding ring, you have read several of his books, cooked his favorite meal, and baked his favorite goodies. The distractions you created are all centered around Jason because despite what you tell yourself about needing to think about other things, Jason Todd takes up every single one of your thoughts. He’s captivating, and you never want to escape him.

Your phone beeps as you finish a page of Frankenstein. After taking a calming breath, you read the message from Barbara.

The bats are Gotham-bound.

The message makes you smile, and you rise from the bed to prepare for Jason’s return. He has come home without a scratch, drenched in blood, and everything in between. In sickness and health, you vowed, and you plan to keep it. With his favorite food already prepared and water heating in the kettle on the stove, you sit on the couch and wait for his entrance. The front door is behind you, and you watch as the Red Hood lands on your fire escape and expertly navigates into your home. His home.

The couch is empty by the time he turns from the now-closed window, and your arms loop around his waist as he moves. Jason chuckles at your immediate attention and pulls his helmet off.

“Miss me?” he asks.

You can hear his smile in his voice, and as Jason’s arms wrap around you, you sigh and release every fear and worry that had been pushed into the back of your mind.

“I need to shower,” Jason says, though he doesn’t move his hands from your back. “Blüdhaven is gross.”

“And Gotham is known for its cleanliness,” you argue.

“Get off,” Jason grumbles.

He raises his hands to your shoulders and easily pushes you back. You look at him as you raise your hands to hold his wrists. Jason’s gaze is soft and his touch is softer.

“Ten minutes,” he requests quietly.

“Someone needs pampering,” you tease. “Take your time. There’s food and tea if you want any.”

“Just wan’ you,” he murmurs.

Jason leans in and kisses your forehead quickly. He avoids your hands as you reach out for him. You laugh as he walks away, and the sound brings Jason home. He’s physically home, yes, but he is only home when you are completely and wholly with him.

The water echoes through the apartment as Jason enters the shower, and you prepare two mugs of tea before carrying them into the bedroom. You would wait forever for Jason, but as you lean back and close your eyes, content listening to him move through your shared home, you know that you’ll never have to wait long.

When Jason enters the bedroom clad in a pair of Wonder Woman sweatpants and smiles at you, everything seems better. The darkest Gotham day can’t cast a shadow on what you and Jason have. Before Jason left, he told you all you needed to know about the mission, and you won’t bring it up again. If he wants to talk about it, he will, and you’ll listen.

You raise the blanket as Jason approaches the side of the bed. He doesn’t hesitate to join you and pull you closer. After looping your arms over his shoulders, you push your fingers into Jason’s wet curls and twist them gently around your fingers. His white streak is closest to you, yet you concentrate your attention elsewhere to keep your eyes locked on his.

“You read it again, didn’t you?” Jason asks.

His eyes threaten to flutter closed, but he forces them open to talk to you.

“Read what?” you whisper.

“Tell me what I missed,” he requests.

You know he can see his books piled on your nightstand, but you enjoy the smile he gives you when you pretend not to know what he’s talking about. Jason pulls your hands away from his hair, opting to hold you against his side. You lay a hand over his heart and gently trace the bottom of a scar. You know his scars by heart, and each story behind them is ingrained in your memory.

“Not much,” you answer after a moment.

“Did you do anything? Because everything you do is important, and I want to hear about it,” Jason argues.

You lean closer and spread your fingers flat against his skin. His heart thrums steadily beneath your hand, and you think your heart beats in time with his.

“Maybe you just married me for the post-mission cuddles,” you say.

“Or maybe I just married you because I love you. I love you for accepting all of me and loving the parts that I don’t let anyone see.”

“Jason,” you hum.

“You didn’t tell me about what I missed,” he replies.

The first raindrop hits the window, and Jason is reminded that he’s back in Gotham. He’d move to Metropolis and listen to Clark as long as you were by his side, but being in your arms in his home town is a feeling unlike any other.

“I’ll take it you didn’t go to the manor,” you deflect.

“Why would I when I have a beautiful wife waiting at home for me and four days to make up for? Lost time with you will always be more important than Bruce.”

You sigh before you begin telling him about what you did. There isn’t much to tell. You read one of his books, cleaned, cooked, baked, and read another book.

“You baked?” Jason interrupts. “And didn’t bring it up until now?”

“I thought time with me was more important.”

Jason furrows his brows as he turns, pulling you to lay on top of him. When you first started dating, Jason was hesitant to initiate any sort of physical touch. Not long before, he had been Gotham’s most-feared crime lord and the rage caused by the pit was still present. Now, there is nothing to stop Jason from touching you: no fear of hurting you, no concern of scaring you away, and no doubt that you won’t love him once you see his darkest secrets. Jason’s scars, his past, and his nightly activities make him the man you love, and you love those parts of him, not the other way around.

As you cuddle with the man who recently scared human traffickers into turning themselves in to the authorities rather than running into him again, you simply enjoy being together. Your husband Jason and Red Hood Jason aren’t the same, yet you love them both equally.

“Do you really want to make up for lost time?” you ask over the rain.

Jason thinks your voice is more soothing and melodic than any rainstorm could dream of being. He pries his eyes open to answer, “Every second of it.”

You nod and lay your head against his chest. With your hearts pressed to one another and your fingers intertwined with Jason’s, you know that you are loved, and Jason knows you will always be here when he comes home.

You’re nearly asleep when you mumble, “’S a lotta time.”

Jason smiles but doesn’t move because he doesn’t want to disturb you. “Never enough time with you,” he whispers against your temple.

#hanna writes✯#jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd #batfam #red hood #red hood x reader #requests #fem!reader #dc comics x reader

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emepe · 1 month

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— Pairing: Yuuta x Reader, established relationship

— General info: 18+, one-shot, smut

— Summary: When it comes to Yuuta, “just the tip” is the start of a dangerous game.

— Content warnings: nsfw, unprotected vaginal sex, virginity loss, implied religious guilt, mild god complex if you squint, coercion, slight breeding kink.

— Notes: Honestly, I wrote this just to see if I could still write decent smut (and Yuuta fits the trope perfectly ugh, I can't lie). Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You promised each other you would wait. But an innocent kiss on the cheek while watching TV led to a sloppy makeout session on the sofa, with your legs on either side of Yuuta's lap and your clothed cunt grinding needily onto his crotch as his fingers crept under your shirt and dug into your waist.

A whine escapes your lips when he involuntarily thrusts his hips upwards, meeting you halfway, desperate for further friction.

“My God, Yuu,” you moan into his mouth, as your combined drool trickles down your chin.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, yet makes no effort to hold back. Because little by little, with every movement of your hips, his erection has become downright painful. It's practically throbbing in the confines of his jeans, swollen and red, aching to be let out, begging for relief.

But he promised.

It's a mental game to come down to his senses and draw an end when things get too heated between you. God knows you haven't one ounce of willpower when you're spiraling down a lustful haze. But he'd rather be the stronger one than risk the loss of your virtue ending in remorse.

He loves you too much to force you to carry such an immense guilt. You vowed to wait until you were married and instead settled for a few steamy moments here and there — always sure you never made it too far.

You could hump and whine and he'd swallow every sweet sigh you pour into his mouth — as long as you never fully undressed and as long as he didn't ruin you by pushing himself between your legs. Then he'll wrap his arms around you, assuring you that whatever you did was still innocent, that you have no reason to feel guilty because you're both still pure.

The vicious cycle never ends.

You're incredibly precious to him — you're everything — but man, it really pisses him off sometimes that he has to be the one to protect a promise you were the first to suggest.

He brings a hand to collect your hair and nip at your neck, kissing it, tracing its slope with his tongue and sucking fervently at the supple skin. As if that's enough, as if it could compare to the glowing promise that being buried inside you represents. His cock twitches at the thought, the movement causing you to expel another string of holy affirmations.

His eyes land on the hand that grips at the fabric of his shirt as you whimper into his ear and the air thickens with the scent of spit, sweat, and desire.

The engagement ring on your finger has become a symbol of dread. So close to having you bound to him forever, and yet the time couldn't come fast enough.

His chest rises and falls dramatically with every shallow breath. It's all too much — the blood rushing south, the precum he can feel leaking from his tip and soiling his underwear, the line of sweat that transfers from your forehead to his as you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe against his mouth — it's all too good.

But it's not enough.

He's tired of it, and you're not making things easier with your pathetic whimpers and your feverish body clinging to him. He can feel your pussy clenching around nothing through the layers of clothing dividing you. If he didn't know any better, he might’ve thought you wore a skirt on purpose to further drive him mad. He might be a patient man —loving, understanding, doting— but he's still a man.

“Just the tip,” he groans.

Your hips slow down as you struggle to comprehend what he just said, earning him a chance to will the cum threatening to spurt inside his jeans back.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head as you observe his blown pupils and his eyebrows upturned in desperate pleading.

“Just the tip, please.”

Your lips part to draw a sharp breath as it dawns on you what he's asking for.

“But we promised,” you softly pronounce.

“It won't change anything if it's just the tip,” he promises. “It's barely anything. It'll be like the time you used your hand.”

He hopes your mind is too dizzy to comprehend that the two situations don't compare at all.

Uncertainty casts over your features, but he can see a hint of consideration gleaming in your eyes at the idea.

You'd be lying if you said you never considered loosening up on your convictions every now and then when you got so close to the act. But you didn't think you could handle disappointing Yuuta by breaking the promise you brought up in the first place. After all, he's so devoted to you and he promised to abide by your wishes no matter how long it took because the gratification when you finally joined in carnal pleasure would only make your commitment to each other all the more special.

“As long as I get to be with you, the rest doesn't matter,” was what he said.

But now that he's looking up at you with such helpless eyes, like you're some sort of god he prays to, your morals take a toll.

His blue eyes stare adoringly into yours.

“Please?” he asks again.

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Please,” he insists, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, biting down just hard enough to cause a whisper of pain before alleviating the feeling with his tongue.

“Please, please, please, it hurts,” he whines, tears lining his lashes and threatening to spill as he reaches between you to palm himself over his jeans. “I can't take it anymore. I'm begging you, I need you, I love you.”

How could you possibly say no when he asks so nicely?

You'd have to be made of stone to deny him the pleasure. You'd have to be a monster to not relieve him of his throbbing pain. You'd have to be the cruelest god to impose him with such inhumane punishment.

“Yuu,” you whisper, his pain reflecting on your face upon witnessing his desperation.

“Please,” he sniffles.

“Okay.”

The word falls over him like a fresh breeze.

“Really? You mean it?”

His lips curve into an eager smile, with butterflies fluttering in his stomach in anticipation.

You nod, happy to see his teary eyes light up.

“Just the tip.”

“Just the tip, I promise.”

He brushes away at his tears with the heel of his palm.

“You're an angel,” he murmurs as he cradles your face with one hand and starts guiding your hips over his erection again with the other.

Soon enough, you're back to panting into each other's mouths, feverish and dizzy at your new promise to fulfill.

Your hands fumble to undo his jeans, clumsily pulling down the zipper in fragments.

“Just the tip,” you huff, as he moans upon feeling your clammy hands palm him through his underwear.

You pull on his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free.

“Oh, god,” you exhale, in awe of the intense red that consumes the head of his cock. Precum oozes from the tip, balls heavy as if he's seconds away from bursting. It's no wonder he looked so pained.

“Just the tip,” he reminds you kindly as he pets your hair, heart rate spiking when he watches your thumb trace over his leaking tip.

He flips you over so that you're pressed onto the sofa while he hovers over you and hooks his fingers around your pink cotton panties, tugging them down your hips with ease and tossing them onto the floor, leaving you in your skirt.

The sight of your bare cunt — already a sopping wet mess from everything that now counts as foreplay — makes his cock twitch.

With his weight balanced on one forearm, he carefully drags himself between your folds, the most sinful sound reaching your ears as he coats his length in your juices. His free hand cradles your face as he bends down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes against yours, swallowing each of your moans as your hands lose themselves in his raven hair.

With fingers trembling in excitement, he lets you go and starts lining himself to penetrate your insides.

“Yuu,” you gasp.

He watches in fascination as his reddened tip squeezes in and slowly disappears inside you, your cunt glistening with enough arousal that you barely feel any pain in the sudden stretch. In fact, Yuuta swears he can feel you suck him in the tiniest bit further as you flutter around the foreign member in your body. He can feel himself grow weaker as he's hit with the warmth and wetness of your insides.

“Fuck,” he hisses, face dropping into the crook of your neck.

The overwhelming ecstasy of knowing he's connected to you burns at every inch of his skin as he scrambles to gather enough strength to pull out and push his tip back in again.

You writhe under him, hands frantically pulling him in for a kiss. He complies. After all, you've gifted him with this — not that he wouldn't give in to your wishes otherwise.

His brows furrow in concentration, eyes squeezed shut with the image of his tip swallowed by your insides flashing behind his eyelids. He pumps his head inside you — in and out, in and out — mesmerized by how good it feels even if it's barely a taste.

It alleviates him… just a little.

He grips your hips with bruising force, rolling his hips further into you all at once, leaving a mildly burning sensation in its wake.

A whine escapes your lips and your eyes close as you feel a tickle of his pubic hair brushing against your lower tummy. Your arms hook under his, bringing him close, scratching his back over his shirt.

An animalistic power washes over him, pushing him to penetrate the deepest part of you, over and over again. His hand squeezes your face, demanding your attention and forcing you to meet his crazed gaze. His pupils are blown with lust, the gentle blue of his irises nearly gone. With the help of his thumb, he pries your mouth open, aggressively pushing his tongue against yours, relishing in the muffled cries of pleasure you release.

The kiss is so needy, so aggressive, it's borderline painful and your jaw hurts from the tight grip of his hand. But it's still so fucking good.

When he pulls back, your eyes are lined with tears, much like his when he was begging to let you use just his tip minutes ago.

The sound of slapping skin echoes around you. Sloppy, wet, sinful.

“Yuuta, this doesn’t feel like just the tip,” you heave, feeling an unfamiliar knot tangling in your lower stomach.

“It is, baby. I swear.”

You both know he's lying but you're too caught up in each other to care.

Your legs wrap around him, barely granting him enough space to move, but he doesn't care. This is better, this is what he needs to relieve the mild guilt that stems from lying to you, because this means you're just as thrilled by him ruining you as he is. And if you're so unwilling to ease your hold on him, he might as well kill two birds with one stone tonight and fill you to the brim with his cum.

The possibility of knocking you up has him reeling. A breathless laugh pushes past his lips as he looks down at you.

You're such a pretty mess and he's so in love. Your pussy does such a good job at sucking him in and he's so fucking drunk on it.

The image of you sprawled below him, sweating and whining out his name will be burned into his memory forever. And you do have forever promised, he remembers. That ring on your finger — the very finger on the very hand that's creeping between your bodies to toy with your clit — stands as proof.

You perverted little thing, he thinks, as he feels you bucking your hips upward to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Yuuta, my god, oh my god!” you whimper as his strokes grow even sloppier and he grows even heavier on your body.

“Feel good, angel?” he taunts, using the nickname he imposed on you back before you became such a needy disaster.

An airy chuckle bubbles up his throat when you fervently nod and caress his cheek. He hooks an arm under your leg, pressing it further into your chest in a semi-mating press position.

He carelessly thrusts his hips a few more times before he's washed over with a glorious relief that he pours inside you, marveling at the way your insides flutter around him, milking him dry with every wanton squeeze.

It's like you want to get knocked up, he thinks.

His hold on your leg loosens and his weight tumbles down on top of you as you work your way to clarity.

He moves around on the limited space of the sofa so that you can snuggle into his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses soft kisses onto the crown of your head.

You can feel his cum leaking from your insides and seeping into the couch cushions, but it'll be a while before either of you care to clean up your mess.

His warm embrace coaxes you to sleep. As you're teetering the line of peaceful slumber, a familiar thought pops into your head.

“Yuuta,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“What we just did wasn't wrong, was it?”

He looks down at you, fingers lifting your chin so he can see your face. Your eyes are wide with worry. The duality with which you're able to confront these matters will forever be a mystery to him.

His gaze softens and a smile graces his lips.

“Don't worry, angel. This was innocent.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It's pure love.”

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#yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu smut #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuta smut #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

Text

✰ 𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐏 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my head between your legs.” - Simon gets bored during a very special medal ceremony. Chest Candy isn't exactly what he's after when there's something much sweeter between your legs.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. This is so self indulgent it’s ridiculous. Anti-Monarchy (sue me), cheeky Simon (my favourite kind), vague dirty talk, oral (f receiving) you see PART OF Simon’s face, vague allusion to p in v sex and cream pie. Inspired by this article I found.

ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

The Crimson red carpet stretches down the aisle to the medal platform, an uncomfortable reminder of the colour of the blood you had to spill to get here. A sea of uniformed SAS colleagues stands before you, making The King look distant from where he handed a medal to those worthy of the chest candy. The golden lighting is giving you a headache, and this ceremony feels as though it's taking forever. He's just a man-

"If we weren't in public right now, I'd have my head between your legs."

Simon's gruff voice so close to your ear has you jumping out of your skin, wide eyes gazing up at him through your lashes as you try to steady yourself from the shock. Was... Was he dirty talking you in the middle of the ceremonial halls of Buckingham Palace?

"Simon-"

"Never been one for pomp an' pageantry," he speaks over you, keeping his voice low as to avoid a very pointed look from Captain Price. Despite leaning down ever so slightly for his whispers to be heard, his eyes stare straight ahead, moving lips concealed by the worn fabric of his ski mask.

"This isn't pomp, Simon. It's Buckingham Palace," you remind him pointedly, a little hiss of frustration bubbling in your throat. Ghost had the habit of choosing the worst times to pull this bullshit-

"Exactly my point, love."

Admittedly, when you saw The Times article a few months ago, you threw up in your mouth. 'SAS get medals in secret palace ceremony'. While each of you had taken a vow to protect (what was then) Queen and Country, years on the field had twisted the priorities of each of the members of Team 141. You could ask any of them why they serve, and it certainly wasn't for this family.

What you honestly hadn't expected, however, was the team's invitation. The invitation, written on a thick, grained card with an embossed royal seal, detailed the team's bravery in the Gulf of Mexico, redirecting the missile aimed towards inhabited land. Ghost had scoffed at the idea of going to Buckingham Palace, but Price had been adamant that all of 141 would be there.

"You know, he's not even served a day in his life," Simon subtly nods towards the medals resting at The King's breast,"' Least Harry saw action."

Keeping your eyes aimed towards the ceremonial stage, you swallow back a grimace at Simon's truthful observation. Sure, he wasn't wrong, but it took everything in you not to dare Ghost to say it to the monarch's face.

Because you're sure as shit that he would.

"Whatd'ya say?" Simon whispers, his voice dropping a tad lower and dripping with eroticism, "There's an open door at your six, Delta. Make it worth your while."

Before you even check over your shoulder to see if his observation is accurate, you're turning on your heel, whispering to the king's guard patrolling the open double doors that you need the toilet- that you are desperate.

One of those admissions is true.

✰

"What took you so lo-ng?!" You gasp out as Ghost's tongue curls around your sensitive clit.

"Recon, love," he muses, the rumble of his voice against your throbbing cunt making you throw your head back against the wall of the bathroom stall, "Couldn't just follow after you into the women's loos, could I?"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimper, pushing your fingers into Simon's buzzcut hair and shoving his face deeper into your cunt. His words had shot straight to your clit when he entered the bathroom, eyelids heavy and voice as rough as glass on gravel.

"Eyes shut, panties down."

When his bare lips and nose pressed to your wet pussy lips, you could have cum right there, threats of a fierce orgasm roughly pushing up against the base of your spine. You wrap your thighs around his head now, wailing out his name as your eyes roll back.

"Shhh," he mumbles against your soaked cunt, but it's so hard to take note of his warnings when they're drowned out by even louder sloppy, messy sucks of your sensitive flesh. He's swallowing your juices down, groans ricocheting off the bathroom walls.

"Fuck, Princess," he's never used that name for you, and you know it's only because of the frankly ridiculous circumstances, but your cunt clenches around his tongue when he shoves it inside of you anyway, "Mhmm, so fuhgin' wet."

He's slurring his words as he plunges his tongue deeper, but he won't shut up. A chorus of "good girl" s and "like that" s and "c'mon" s have you pushing your hips up into his face and grasping at the smooth walls of the bathroom stall.

"Oh my God, Simon!" You sob weakly, tears welling in your eyes as he sinks his fingers into your throbbing cunt. He finds your G-spot instantly, far too acquainted with each curve and crevice of your body—too many reccy missions with his hands down your pants.

"Hah," he pulls back, breathless pants rumbling in his chest. The sound makes your back arch, chasing his lips again with your pelvis, "Gonna swear allegiance to me?"

His corny joke is almost lost on you; eyes rolling back into your skull as you grip at his short hair between your curled fingers. "L-Last I checked, yo-you were on your knees for m-me!"

It doesn't matter that you squeak out the last word of your ballsy sentence; it lands exactly as you intended it to. Simon stalls for a moment.

You don't mean to. You don't! But your eyes snap open at the sudden stalling of the blissful sensation. Simon's amber eyes gaze up at you from his position between your thighs. They frame his face, covering his ears. Your pubic bone smothers his lower visage, covering the bridge of his nose to his chin.

Squeaking, you squeeze your eyes shut. Blonde. Simon's blonde, and a white scar runs down his left eyebrow and eyelid.

"Naughty," you hear him smirk at your startled reaction, a breathy, exhaled chuckle fanning across your wet pussy lips, "Guess I'll have to fuck you so hard that you forget what you just saw."

When you return to the ceremonial hall, the guards on the door keep their eyes uncomfortably fixed on the crimson carpet. You wish you could say that your shaking legs are from nerves when you step onto the ceremonial stage to receive your medal from The King.

The smug gaze of the skull face in the crowd is a reminder of otherwise, his cum leaking into the fabric of your uniform as you bow for the monarch.

Authors Note: Congrats on your coronation, "King" Charles... Would be a shame if Diana made it rain on your big day. ;)

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@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @Malici0uspuff1n

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risuola · 27 days

Text

ENTRY #2 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU

As if the pleads could never be heard, You turned away the cerulean blue, And while the lines began to get blurred, I struggled to bask in the might of you.

cw: arranged marriage!au, brief mention of blood I guess — 1,2k words

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It didn’t take long until you realized that there’s something no one considered when arranging the marriage between you and the honored one. An aspect of life that got heavily overlooked, painfully ignored. When the main objective was to secure the bloodline of your clan and make sure the precious genes of the strongest won’t end with the demise of the man himself, not even one person thought of the consequences you will have to face. Maybe no one expected that to happen, maybe no one was bright enough to realize that the moment your hand was adorned with a golden band, and the vows that echoed in between the walls silenced down, all of Satoru’s enemies will automatically become your enemies.

You were a warrior – strong and fearless. A sorcerer of true blood and bones, you were proud of what you represented while entering the battlefield, proud of your abilities and power. Before you became Gojo, not much was able to surprise you. Before your name was changed, nothing ever threatened you enough to make you feel uneasy. Nothing until now.

It didn’t really surprise you anymore, it wasn’t the first time. It was logical in a way, attacking your husband was bound to be futile – infinity made him invincible, untouchable, and those characteristics you lacked severely. You were an obvious target, a person that’s closest to the real target and in times like this, when facing few curses that you were certain were special grade, you wondered if their approach would be different if they knew how little you meant to your husband. Would they retreat if they knew that attacking a mere assistant like Ijichi would cause more emotions in Satoru Gojo than the death of his own wife?

You fought, making the most out of your abilities to stand against the force whose main objective was to brutalize you as much as possible. You saw it as a chance to learn more, to develop more resistance, to grow stronger. There was a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, a thrill of excitement as the battle unraveled with an air of dread and death surrounding the desolate area. The metallic taste of blood was distinctive on your tongue once your body failed to protect you from a series of attacks. You moved despite the sharp pain that slowly but surely was making its way throughout your entire system. For a moment you felt giddy, almost euphoric as the idea of going all in settled in your mind and then you realized that it might end up bad.

Equipped in a blade that’s made fully from your own cursed energy and sharp enough to cut through the hardest of stone, you moved forward, ready to collide with the cursed spirits that caught you in the middle of nowhere. But then you stopped and your eyes closed tightly as the bright, red light blinded you. A strong arm held you around the ribcage and a large frame of a man was pressed to your back.

“Can you please fucking tell me, is running away against your beliefs?” You heard the familiar, sharp tone of your husband, a groan of annoyance and something else that you couldn’t decipher carrying his words. You tilted your head to look at his unamused face. His eyes, now unobscured, weren’t even directed at you, but his jaw was clenched and his hold on you was tight. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to tell that it’s way above your level of jujutsu.”

You couldn’t tell how much of his words was care and how much was pure insult, but either way it put you at ease to know he’s there. There was a sense of safety that you never experienced before, the calm embrace of infinity that wrapped around your frame, the subtle taste of what it’s like to be untouchable. And it lingered, crawled softly across your skin along with the foreign warmth of your husband’s body.

“If you look around you might realize that there’s literally no way to run away,” you replied with just enough of venom to mask how grateful you were for his appearance. The spiteful tone felt natural on your tongue, a default of when you spoke to him and yet, this time you had to remember to use it.

“Yeah, right, so next best thing is to face something that will fucking kill you head on.” He groaned, annoyed, nervous. You felt his fingers digging between your ribs, he kept you closer than he needed to. “Such a wise and well thought through decision.”

“I’m not as weak as you thi–“

“I know,” he cut you off, bothered and harsh. “But you are too weak for this.”

He was right and you knew that. You were far from your best shape, the job you finished just few hours prior ate most of your cursed energy and even with full power you’d most likely struggle against the threat of those curses. But then, you were not given a choice. It was rather fight or die without a fight and the decision was easy.

“Good thing my husband is so strong.”

A sharp tsk left Satoru’s lips and then, the cursed creatures vanished, seemingly aware of how much the power scale tilted to their detriment. Next time you blinked, you were at home and your husband’s touch was gone. The subtle pressure of his fingers against your ribcage now only a ghost of what it was seconds ago.

“It wasn’t the first time now, was it?” He questioned and you struggled to tell if what you heard below the detachment and coldness was care or annoyance.

“It wasn’t. But I’m usually able to deal with it myself.”

Gojo sighed. A long and deep exhale of air left his lungs and he seemed to think, to weigh his next words and actions carefully.

“You should’ve told me. I’ll take care of it,” he said finally, bluntly, matter-of-factly. “You’re not strong enough to face my enemies.”

“I held them long enough for you to come, didn’t I?”

“And what if I didn’t show up?!” He snapped and growled, loud and angry. His fingers wrapped around your jaw, forcefully tilting your head back, to look at him fully. His face was closer, your noses almost touching and the piercing blue of his eyes fixed on you, as the tone of his speech got low and quiet, almost whisper-like. ”What if I didn’t come?”

“Then I’d be dead,” you replied, surprised by how small your own voice sounded. There was no right answer you could’ve given him.

“Yeah, you’d be dead,” he nodded, panted. You watched the spectacle of emotions playing across his handsome features. His brows furrowed and the narrowed eyes seemed to look straight through your very soul. For a second or two, his jaw clenched and lips pressed together forming a line and you were stunned to realize that even his beautiful face creased when angered. And then, his lids dropped, the muscles relaxed. He breathed out, you felt it on your lips and skin, a subtle sweetness and mint of his breath. The tight hold of his fingers loosened up as he looked at you again, allowing his eyes to run down your features, to linger on your lips before they got back to stare back at you. “I don’t want you dead.”

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domnamewoman · 7 months

Note

I was wondering if I could request an angst we’re all of the MK 2023 characters S/O get turned injured severely by Titian Shang Tsung (could have a happy end, could not…up too you!)

Characters: Liu Kang, Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Kitana, Mileena, Tanya, Sub-Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile, Baraka, Shang Tsung, Rain

Warnings: Angst 😭, Canon-Typical Violence

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Requests Are Open

Liu Kang’s heart stopped as he saw your body lying there, lifeless on the ground. He bent down to cradle you in his arms as tears fell from his eyes. He couldn’t believe it, the love of his life was now gone. He blamed himself for not getting there in time. Why was fate always so cruel, was he really destined to be alone? No, no he wouldn’t accept it. He was the Keeper of Time. He would reverse time and make sure that he is here to prevent such a horrid outcome. He would end Titan Shang Tsung once and for all.

Raiden felt as though he could throw up as he looked at your unconscious body lying in the bed. Titan Shang Tsung had blasted you off a cliff and you hit your head on a rock when you landed. The physician told Raiden that you were in a coma from the head injury. There was no telling when you would wake up or if you ever would. Raiden held your hand and rested his forehead on it as he let his tears fall. All he could do was stay by your side and wait. And he would, even if it was forever.

Kung Lao was angry. At himself for not being there, at the physicians for not being able to save you, but mostly at Titan Shang Tsung. He was the cause of all of this. Kung Lao placed one last kiss on your lips as he promised you to get revenge. He would stop at nothing to see Titan Shang Tsung taken down. He pushed his grief to the side and focused on making a plan to get to Titan Shang Tsung. He would grieve once his promise to you was fulfilled.

Johnny Cage struggled to find meaning in anything anymore. Without you, there just wasn’t any point to life for Johnny. Who cared about the movies, or the awards, or even saving Earthrealm from destruction? He couldn’t bring you back by doing any of it so he deemed it all useless. Johnny stopped trying, losing his arrogance and bravado. How great is “Johnny Cage” if he can’t even save his love? He was nothing but a failure in his eyes now and that’s how he would live.

Kenshi Takahashi felt all the joy in his life slipping away as he felt your blood slip through his fingers where he was applying pressure to your wound. He tried to smile and reassure you that the physician was on their way and you would make it out alive but he knew it was too late. He knelt there, helpless as you exhaled your final breath, going completely limp. Kenshi sat there with you in his arms for hours, pushing away Johnny and Kung Lao as they tried to get him to let you go. He couldn’t, not ever.

Kitana released a scream as she heard your neck snap at the hands of Titan Shang Tsung. Why? Why did it have to be you to charge at him? Why didn’t you listen to her when she told you to wait? Why couldn’t she move fast enough to prevent this from happening? Kitana gripped your shirt and cried into your chest as the fight continued around her. How was she supposed to go on? But she had to, for you. It’s what you would have wanted her to do. She vows to you as she grabs her bladed fans that she will avenge your death.

Mileena spent all of her time trying to find someone to help you. She was the Empress and she would spare no cost of getting the best physicians, the best medicine, whatever was needed to accelerate your healing process. The court could be mad all they wanted, but she didn’t care about her duties. Her only priority right now was seeing you healthy and back on your feet again. The only thing that could distract her from this is any updates on Titan Shang Tsung’s whereabouts. She would make sure that he died by her hands for harming her love.

Tanya watched in unbelief as Titan Shang Tsung stuck his claws deep into your abdomen. You crumpled to the ground, coughing up blood. Tanya rushed over and held you in her arms. She didn’t know how could she let this happen. She was Umgadi for goodness sake. And yet, she could protect her love from danger. She pulled you out of the path of battle, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be as she applied pressure to your wounds. She would make sure that you survived no matter what.

Bi-Han was filled with rage. Titan Shang Tsung dared to take his love away from him. How could Bi-Han call himself Earthrealm’s protector when he couldn’t even protect you? No, he would make Titan Shang Tsung pay for what he did. Bi-Han would gather all of the Lin Kuei and hunt him down. No longer was their purpose protecting Earthrealm. Their only mission was to kill Titan Shang Tsung to avenge the death of his lover. Nothing else mattered or was more important to him.

Kuai Liang couldn’t control the fire rolling off of his body as he saw you there unmoving, at Titan Shang Tsung’s feet. He rushed toward him, swinging out his chained knives aiming for his head. Kuai Liang fought with everything in him, letting his anger fuel his fire. He didn’t worry about his own well-being, what was the point now that you were gone? He ignored all the pain from his injuries and pressed on. He would put an end to Titan Shang Tsung, or he would die trying.

Tomas ran with all his might holding on to your limp body. He had to get you to a physician and quick. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t lose another family member. After his family was killed and he joined the Lin Kuei, he thought he would never have to go through heartache like that again. He couldn’t imagine a world without you. He pleaded with you to stay with him as he looked down at you taking shallow breaths. He ignored the burning in his legs and he pushed himself to run faster. He won’t lose you too.

Syzoth didn’t believe what they told him when he arrived at the palace. How could you be dead? It wasn’t possible. While he was out on a mission Titan Shang Tsung attacked? No, no that couldn’t be. He continued to deny it until they brought him to see your body. This couldn’t be happening to him again. Why could he never protect his loved ones? Why did he always have to be left completely alone? He will get his revenge. He will take away everything that Titan Shang Tsung has ever held dear.

Baraka knew that fate could be cruel when he got infected with Tarkat. But he thought he would be allowed some form of happiness in his life. That proved to be wrong when you were killed, leaving him all alone. Baraka could feel his sanity slipping. He was left with nothing yet again. The only one he loved was taken from him. All he could think about was shredding Titan Shang Tsung into pieces. He would turn into the savage beast everyone thought he was. He had nothing more to lose.

Shang Tsung couldn’t believe you were killed. To make matters worse, it was at the hands of his doppelganger. Shang Tsung would question what type of person he was for there to be a version of himself out there that would commit such a heinous act. Shang Tsung would practice all the sorcery in the world to find a way to bring you back. He didn’t care how many souls he had to steal. Starting with the soul of Titan Shang Tsung. He would prove that he was the best version in all timelines.

Zeffeero dropped to his knees in front of your lifeless body. What was it all for? He spent all his time trying to get power and status and for what? Just for the beloved to no longer be a part of his life? Zeffeero looked up, no one seemed to notice you, the most important person to him, lying on the cold ground. No, they didn’t get to go on with their lives like nothing happened. He would ruin their lives just like his now was. He would rain down an endless flood and drown them all.

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

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⁙ six seeds, like rubies...

... and the flowers find themselves blooming in decay...

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; 0.5k wc; inspired by the hades and persephone story; warning: sukuna is sukuna, so expect the expected [mentions of blood & implied violence – not towards the reader]; spicy & fluffy; hints of reincarnation(??)

▸ this was written for the ask submitted by the amazing @heresan as part of my 100 followers celebration. ty tina!! also, i own neither the characters nor the gif nor the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Ruby is the sky when Sukuna sees you, the very first time.

Strands of hair fluttering in the summer breeze and a pleased smile playing on your lips, whilst you watch your companions frolic in the meadow – you appear an oasis to his parched eyes. Elixir disguised as your frail body, the curse reckons – nay, he knows – it is fated to be drunk by him. To be devoured by him.

Ruby is the earth when Sukuna touches you, the very first time.

Velvet-soft skin cradled in one of his calloused palms while the other cards through your hair, marring them with the blood of your kin – the very same dripping down the weapons in the curse’s other two hands. Your eyes stay wide as you gaze upon the sight before – a vision certainly too ghastly for a delicate maiden as you – yet Sukuna makes no move to conceal. Instead, he tilts your chin up with a finger and inquires, mouth twisted into a sneer, “Like what you see, pet?”

Ruby is your kimono when Sukuna kisses you, the very first time.

It isn’t tender; he knows. Nor is it loving; he knows this too. Yet, despite the knowledge, the curse finds himself pressing his lips to yours with increasing force; an attempt to draw out your taste and engrave it within himself. So new, so sweet, oh so, so addicting – a satisfied hum leaves him as he parts from you and lowers you onto the bed, a dishevelled mess in lieu of the composed woman you’ve always shown to be – until tonight, your wedding night, that is.

Ruby is your wine when Sukuna vows to you, the very first time.

The chalice falls onto the ground below, rendering it a deep red – not unlike the scene he created three summers ago. Amusement makes its way onto his features, a smirk paired with a huffed chuckle, before beating a hasty retreat – you’re staring at him, stunned, staggered, breaths fast and shallow while your dainty hands reach out to cup his cheeks.

“Say that once more, my king,” You urge him in a whisper – a request Sukuna decides to deny, choosing to instead drag his sharp teeth across your pulse point – before a quiet whimper floats into the air and the curse feels his resolve weaken.

Raising his head from where it lies at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, he brushes the moisture away from your eyes and laughs. A cacophony – greedy, cruel, selfish – yet your expression might as well portray it as a soft melody to one, your husband muses.

Sukuna decides to indulge his Queen, just this one time.

“I’m never letting go of you, woman. Hate me, love me, I fucking don't care. You’re stuck with me. For good. For now. Forever.”

Ruby is the gaze you find on the other bank of the river, that fated summer evening – the forbidden hue to your screened palette.

And ruby is the gaze you find on the other side of the room, this fated summer evening – eons and eons later – the only hue you know you’ll ever need to paint your greyscale life.

▸ masterlist

▸ taglist: @afortoru, @guccirosegold, @heresan, @luckimoon, @megu-meow, @nanamikentoseyebags, @pupkashi, @ritsatoru, @softsatoru, @sweetdreamssatoru. :))

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

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Hi! I’ve been thinking about this for awhile.

Imagine Astarion walking in to see his s/o, only to see them on their knees groaning and looking uncomftarble, because of Haarlep and his promise. ”Everytime I make love with your body, you will know.”

Maybe Astarion could like try to comfort s/o through one of those times? Not in a sexual way, just doing his best to show that he’s there, maybe throwing a comment to distract them ”pretend it’s me.”

If you’re uncomftarble with this you can ignore it! Have a nice day/night!😊

I used they/them pronouns for Haarlep when applicable because the Narrator refers to them this way

References and dialogue taken from a scene in the game, transcribed by yours truly

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, swearing, crying, reference to victim blaming, references to past trauma/abuse

Word Count: 1,031

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

It comes on like a violent shiver. You can feel hands all over you, tracing up and down your legs and chest, but you’re all alone in your tent. You try to ignore it, focus on a book or something. Anything. But it’s overwhelming. Haarlep is using your body to pleasure someone else and you can feel it all. Maybe for Raphael it was incredible - another layer of pleasure to heighten the experience. To you, it’s violating.

You curl into yourself, tugging your knees to your chest as you sit on the floor, and hiding your face from the lamp light. If you could curl up tight enough, maybe you could block it all out. It’s a useless attempt. You know nothing can stop it.

“Darling, you’re going to miss… Shit.” Astarion rushes to your side, the flap of the tent shutting out the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he should touch you, where he should touch you. But you’re shaking, and whimpering, and he wants more than anything to help. “Can I touch you?”

You lift your face from your knees, nodding as a groan tears from your throat. It should feel good, but it doesn’t. You want to squirm and dive into water and roll in the dirt - anything to get rid of the ghostly hands on your skin.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and tugs you into him. His touch is more solid. He’s not a phantom taking pleasure in your image. You sigh with how real he feels. He brushes his fingers through your hair. “It’s the incubus, isn’t it?” he whispers by your ear. You nod and grab onto his arm. Your hands are trembling. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I can feel it, Astarion,” you gasp. You press your face into his chest. “Everything. Hands, just, all over me.” You can’t bear to speak out loud what else you feel. He can tell when your legs press tightly together.

“Tell me what I can do to help.”

Your mind is blank. You can’t think. You don’t know. You squirm closer to him and he draws your body into his lap, pressing his cheek to your head. He tries to be more firm in his touches. He scratches lightly at your scalp, tugs gently at the hairs at the nape of your neck. His hand runs up and down your arm, stopping only to press his fingertips against different locations that follow no consistent pattern. He can feel your tears against his skin, and he wishes more than anything to have killed that creature when they had the chance.

“Keep talking,” you whimper. A violent chill forces its way down your spine and you groan against his skin to avoid being too loud. He can’t imagine what the others would think or say.

When this happened before, it was in public. You couldn’t avoid it then, couldn’t rush somewhere private away from public eyes, and they scolded you. Told you to be quiet, teased you about liking it. It made his blood boil just thinking about it. It hadn’t been this bad then - the sound you made wasn’t out of disgust or discomfort.

“I know what it’s like to lose control over your own body. It’s a wretched thing.”

“I may as well just try to enjoy it.”

“I thought the same, once. It didn’t last. I know what’s done is done - you made your vow. But I’m sorry all the same.”

“Please,” you cry. “Please talk to me.”

He hushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “It’s going to be okay, my dear. You’re going to get through this. And once these damn tadpoles are out of our heads, we’re marching right back to Avernus and killing that bastard.”

You chuckle, weak and wet, but it’s better than hearing you suffer. “Promise?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d march down there tomorrow if we could.” He moves his hand from your arm to your leg. He rubs circles into your thigh with his thumb, applying various amounts of pressure as he does. Quietly, unsure, he whispers into your hair, “Can you pretend it’s me?”

He’s not sure if he wants you to, truthfully. But he’s willing to carry that weight if it means easing your suffering. It’s a sentimental thought, but it doesn’t last long as you shake your head. “They don’t touch me like you do.” There’s an edge of teasing in your voice, trying to make it a joke, but it doesn’t quite land.

“Good.” He wants to say something more, but nothing comes to mind. He’s almost… proud. Definitely possessive. If that incubus and whoever they're bedding now doesn’t know how to touch you in all the ways you enjoy, then Astarion won’t feel bad when he touches you. He would hate to ruin intimacy for you because Haarlep touches you the same way.

Your legs shake and you hold onto him desperately, wrapping an arm around him to dig your fingers into his back. You try not to dig too deep, try not to hurt him, even in your torture. It breaks his heart. A sound bubbles in the back of your throat, agonized and lewd. With just one touch of your hand to his cheek, he knows precisely what you’re asking for, and he captures your mouth with his own. It’s not romantic or sweet. It’s teeth clashing and swallowing every loud noise that would be louder if he pulled away. It’s offering you a final comfort as Haarlep desecrates you.

As your legs stop shaking, the phantom touches on your body fading, you kiss him softer, until you feel safe enough to pull away. You don’t hide your face again; you press your forehead to his. Your cheeks are flushed and stained with tears. He continues to play with your hair as he wipes them away.

“Thank you,” you whisper. A sob rises from your chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and wrapping his arms around you. “It’s okay, my love. You’re okay. It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault. You’re okay.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis

@hypopxia

@flsalazar

@beverlybeav

@angelofthorr

@emiemiemiii

@lynnlovesloki

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ur-local-anti-hero · 26 days

Text

Speak now (Marauders' version) Masterlist

Hi! this is the first time I'm posting in the Marauders fandom, and as my formal application I decided to write a series of different one-shots and drabbles based on Speak now :)

Therefore I present to you: Speak now (Marauders' version), in which each song has its own piece of writing for a diffent marauders era character.

Here is the masterlist, I'll be uploading it weekly, (at least once a week). First piece of writing will be up tomorrow.

Some clarifications: reader is fem! unless stated differently. English is not my first lenguage, so some mistakes are bound to happen, if you spot any don't hesitate to politely reach out.

If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or ask!

Mine - Remus x reader

Remus swears he's never been more in love. "Flash forwards and we're takin' on the word together, and there's a drawer of my thing at your place" "You are the best thing, That's ever been mine" Domestic fluff

Sparks fly - Sirius x Pure blood Slytherin!reader + What happened after.

Dating a Black was not the problem, the problem was that is Sirius, a known bloodtraitor. “I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild. Just keep on keeping your eyes on me, it's just wrong enough to make it feel right” Hurt/comfort

Back to december - Remus x reader

Remus feels like he will regret that night the rest of his life, the marauders convince him to do something about it. “So this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you, Saying I'm sorry for that night" It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you. Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine” Hurt comfort, second chance romance

Speak now - James x Malfoy!reader

If the marauders are against something, its agaisnt pureblood families ideologies. Sometimes that implies to wreak havoc on a white veil occasion. “So don't say yes, run away now, I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. Don't wait, or say a single vow, You need to hear me out” Hurt/comfort, Fluff, arranged marriage

Dear John - Regulus x reader

Maybe you should have listened to your best friend's warning about Regulus, you didn't. Now you just have to deal with the consequences. “Maybe it's you and your sick need To give love then take it away. And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors, Who don't understand" "And I'll look back and regret. I ignored when they said, "Run as fast as you can" Angst

Mean - Lily x reader

You had some words you'd like to say to Snape after he insulted the kindest girl you've ever met "All you are is mean. And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life" Hurt/comfort

The story of us - Sirius x reader

Sometimes your relationship with Sirius looked like a contest of who could be more prideful, but this time it's gone too far and all you want is to have him back. "This is looking like a contest, of who can act like they care less. But I liked it more when you were on my side, the battle's in your hands now." Angst, fluff

Never grow up - Wolfstar x daughther!reader (No voldy au)

Remus and Sirius watch their daughter grow up and wish she could stay as their little girl forever. “Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple. I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart. And no one will desert you, Just try to never grow up, never grow up” Fluff

Enchanted - Remus x reader (Soulmate au)

As soon as you saw him walking through the door you knew you'd love him forever. His first words only verified it. Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?". Across the room, your silhouette, Starts to make its way to me The playful conversation starts, Counter all your quick remarks Like passing notes in secrecy. And it was enchanting to meet you” Fluff

Better than revenge - James Potter x reader

Maybe fake dating your ex's best friend wasn't the best way of getting revenge "The story starts when it was hot and it was summer, and I had it all, I had him right there where I wanted him She came along, got him alone, and let's hear the applause She took him faster than you can say"Sabotage"" Fake dating

Innocent - Regulus x reader

After he realized what his parents have done Regulus can't help but breakdown, good thing you are there for him. “Did some things you can't speak of, But at night you live it all again. You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now, If only you had seen what you know now then" Hurt/comfort

Haunted - Remus x reader

Remus' worlds shifts entirely when his worst nightmare becomes true and he isn't sure if he is ever going to be able to look at you again when he is sure he has destroyed your life. “Something's gone terribly wrong, You're all I wanted.Come on, come on, don't leave me like this, I thought I had you figured out Can't breathe whenever you're gone, Can't turn back now, I'm haunted” angst hurt/comfort

Last Kiss - Sirius x reader

Breaking up with sirius was the hardest thing you've ever done. You can't help but miss the way his lips felt against yours. "I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets. How you'd kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something, There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions” Angst

Long live - poly!Marauders x reader (Band!Au)

All your hard work as a band has led you and the boys to this moment, nominated as the best new artist and attending one of the most prestigius galas in the music industry. “I passed the pictures around, Of all the years that we stood there, On the sidelines wishing for right now When they gave us our trophies, And we held them up for our town, and The Cynics were outragedScreaming, "This is absurd!"” Fluff

Ours - James x reader (Band!Au)

When people start to comment on James' personality is your job to make sure he knows how much he means to everyone, but specifically how much he means to you. “So don't you worry your pretty, little mind. People throw rocks at things that shine And life makes love look hard, The stakes are high, the water's rough. But this love is ours” Hurt/comfort

Superman - Remus x reader (Spiderman!Au)

Remus worries that his girlfriend will leave him when she learns the truth. You worry he is too oblivious to realize you already know. "I'll be right here on the ground, When you come back down. Tall, dark and beautiful. He's complicated, he's irrational, But I hope someday he'll take me away, And save the day fluff

From the vault tracks

Electric touch - Sirius x reader (College!Au)

Your friends are tired of telling you that he is going to break your heart. You'd let Sirius gamble with your heart as long as the chance of hapiness is there. “All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life. Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life And I want you now, wanna need you forever. In the heat of your electric touch”

When Emma falls in love - James x reader

You navigate what's like to be in love with James 'Cause when Emma falls in love, she's in it for keeps She won't walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave” fluff Hurt/comfort

I can see you - Remus x reader

As much as you hated him, you couldn't deny his natural charm and the way he seemed to have a magnetic field around him that made you gravitate towards him, once and once again. “Passed me a note sayin’, "Meet me tonight", Then we kiss and you know I won't ever tell. And I could see you being my addiction, You can see me as a secret mission. Hide away and I will start behaving myself" Rivals to lover

Castles crumbling - Regulus x reader (Royal Au)

You loved him more than anything, you were the best thing that ever happened to him. But your love is impossible and forbidden. When he doesn't have anything left he runs to you, wondering if you'll love him now. “And I feel like my castle's crumbling down And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground And you don't want to know me, I will just let you down You don't wanna know me now” Hurt/comfort, forbidden romace, fluff

Foolish one - Peter x reader

Peter is used to being the second chance, but he can't help but feel betrayed when his bestfriend and crush starts to get closer to Sirius. "Foolish one, Stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love That ain't never gonna come You will learn the hard way instead of just walkin' out" Hurt/comfort

Timeless - James x reader (Soulmate!Au)

James and you are fated to find each other in every life you live. "Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this, So even in a different life You still would've been mine. We would've been timeless" Fluff

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baby-yongbok · 7 months

Text

Meltdown

Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Autistic!Fem!Reader

❗Genre: Angst

❗Warnings: Heavy themes of autistic meltdown, Very detailed explanation of a meltdown, Heavy themes of Anxiety?, self-harm (no blood), Mentions of not being able to breathe, Chris is an asshole but not for long. Again, this is very detailed. + Bang Chan is referred to as Chris.

❗A/N: I'm very nervous to post this, but I want to put out content for neurodivergent community. As an autistic individual, I rarely see content with an autistic reader. It may exist, but I've never really come across it. So, here I am. This work is purely based on my experience with autism and is based on my own meltdowns. This is not meant to reflect how every person with autism has meltdowns. I hope that you enjoy!

✨️Masterlist✨️

“You always do this, you always do the same shit and then try to play it off as an accident. How many times are you going to make the same mistake?�� Chris yelled in your direction, putting air quotes around the last word of his sentence. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep yourself stable.

“It is a mistake and I thought that I was doing a good job at avoiding it, I don’t perceive any of my behavior tonight as suggestive. I thought that I was being friendly.” Your speech is steady and smooth, a calculated response designed in your head to avoid conflict. That was your goal, avoiding conflict, but it seems that Chris’ temper has other plans tonight.

“Friendly? Are you fucking kidding me? You were practically saying your vows with all the compliments you were dishing out tonight. Laughing at every single word that your so-called friend said. I’m surprised you weren’t sitting in his fucking lap with the way your conversation was going.” Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the bright numbers of the digital clock to your right. You focus your eyes on the bright outline, trying your best to keep yourself calm.

“Chris, I really didn’t mean -” You’re cut off by his yelling, the sudden sound making you jump a bit, shifting your focus.

“I don’t want to hear that fucking excuse. You didn’t mean it? Yeah, sure, you always say that. And why the fuck do you let him call you all of those names? Honey, sweetheart, and anything else that slips off of his tongue, right?” He moves from his spot across from you, circling the couch and stalking towards where you're sitting quickly, only stopping when there’s about a foot between you. “Are you fucking him or something? Do the two of you have history? Because I can’t think of another reason for you to be so goddamn disrespectful.”

“Wha- no, I- I never did anything with him.” Your eyes dart up to his face but your gaze quickly falls, you blink a couple of times trying your best to hold back your tears. “I thought.. I thought I was being friendly I was watching -”

“Why are you trying to play innocent?” He squats down in front of you, his piercing gaze trying to find yours. Tears start to run down your cheeks and you start to rock your body back and forth. You wipe your tears away with open hands before starting to pick at your nails. “Look at me. If you’re not lying then look at me.”

“Chris I- I can’t right now. I’m r-really overwhelmed, I’m sorry.” He sucks his teeth at you, leaning closer into your space. “Please.. Back up.”

“Look at me.” He hisses and you can feel the tingling in your hands and feet starting as your thoughts start to spiral out of control. “Do you really think that you were just being friendly? Tell me, I’m fucking listening.”

His tone picks up towards the completion of his sentence, ending in a shout. You jump again, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. The thoughts in your head get louder as the seconds go by and you start to lose the ability to understand them. Every time that you try to pin point one of them it gets pulled away from you. You start to bounce your leg, fast and harsh. The bouncing of your leg paired with the rocking of your upper body seemed to have caught Chris’ attention. The real Chris, not the one that was standing in front of you seconds ago allowing his jealousy to spiral out of control in a fit of anger.

“Hey..hey” He lowers himself onto his knees, his eyes that were angry seconds ago now glazed with worry. “I’m.. I’m sorry I lost it, I know I shouldn’t have, I just..”

He reaches his hand out to touch you, a soft attempt at comforting you but it was the last thing that he should’ve done. You jump at the contact, a small whine falling from your lips. He moves his hand quickly, muttering a small apology. You bring your hands up to cover your ears, attempting to shut out the heavy buzzing of your thoughts. You start to rock your body quicker as you lean forward, shrinking into yourself.

“Fuck.” Chris hisses under his breath, his hands helplessly resting on his lap. He knows that you didn’t mean it, he knows that you have trouble interacting with your friends due to your autism. And he knew better than anyone what could happen when you got overwhelmed. He could usually see it coming and nurse you back to a more stable headspace but this time he couldn’t. This time it was him that caused the meltdown, the fault was at his feet and there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was wait and watch as you went through the motions.

It was the screaming that pulled him out of his thoughts. The piercing sound of you wailing, the verbal expression of the pain you felt as you tried your best to understand what was happening in your head. His eyes fixed on you immediately, he took you in slowly, maybe too slow. Your hands were laced in your hair pulling harshly at the roots as you sobbed, you were mumbling something through your sobbing. At first he couldn’t understand but eventually he caught on and his heart shattered in his chest as he reached for your hands in an attempt to loosen your grip on your hair.

“Stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes.” You mumbled as your tears fell. Your grip on your hair tightened just as Chris made contact with you, he tried desperately to gently pry your fingers from your curls.

“Baby, you can’t do that.” He nearly whispered, his voice was easily drowned out by your screams as you tried to get as far away from his touch as possible. “Baby, please.”

“Stop making mistakes, Stop making mistakes.” Once Chris was able to loosen your grip you balled your hands into fists. Your body tensed and your breath caught in your chest. Chris watched you with wide eyes, he slowly tried to move a bit closer to you, preparing himself to stop you from hurting yourself if needed.

“You have to breathe.” The panic in his tone was evident, you could hear it but you couldn’t react. There was too much going on, too much to process. “ Babygirl, please please breathe.”

You bang your fists against your thighs, trying to get your brain to slow down, trying to coordinate breathing with thinking, moving, anything. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why couldn’t you just stop holding your breath? Why? The more you thought about it the more frustrated you got. You could feel a burning in your chest as you looked up at Chris, eyes wide with panic.

“Babygirl, look, follow me. Do what I do, yeah?” His voice is soft yet strong as he tries to mollify the panic rising in his chest. He attempts to instruct you, using his hands to guide you into making your chest rise and fall as it should. You watch his hands, trying to concentrate, Trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the harsh buzzing of your thoughts. The longer you focus on the movements of his hand the more that you can feel your chest start to move. You take in a sudden breath, gasping a bit and choking for a second. You follow with another quick breath, gasping again and the pattern continues until the burning subsides and an intense dizziness hits you.

“You did it, you did so well, baby.” Chris whispers, his eyes wide and glossy. “You got it.”

Your body starts to relax a bit as you work to regulate your breathing. You slowly unclench your fist, resting your hands in your lap and scratching at the fabric of your jeans. Your movements start to slow and you sit up straight gradually, every move hurts a bit, the aching in your muscles already starting to set in. Your crying continues as you pant softly, you mumble the same statement to yourself a couple of times before you direct your words towards Chris.

“I’m s-sorry. I thought I-I was doing it right I t-thought…” Your sentence trails off into a pained sob as you bring your hands up to cover your eyes. The guilt of your reaction came flooding through instantly. First you make your boyfriend mad and then you have a fucking meltdown about it? You just can’t win, huh.

“Please don’t apologize, I should be the one apologizing. I should be begging for forgiveness right now. I had no right to get that angry, I was jealous and it was stupid. I was insecure, I’ve been insecure about you hanging out with him for months and I let all of that pent up emotion out and I hurt you. I’m so so sorry, I understand if you don’t forgive me, I wouldn’t either. I know that you struggle and I still fucked everything up.” He moved a bit closer to you, a mere inch separating the two of you.

You shook your head acknowledging that you could hear him. Your brain was slowing down just a bit and you didn’t want to add anything to the whirlwind to disrupt it.

“I’ll get your meltdown kit, and I’ll pick out your safe clothes. You need to take a hot shower to try and soothe your muscles… you’re going to be sore in the morning, okay?” You shake your head, glancing up at Chris for just a second before you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight but you try not to let it bother you. The aftermath of a meltdown was something that you’ve grown used to after all.

“Please believe me when I say that none of this was your fault. I’m so so fucking sorry, this will never happen again…ever.” He nearly whispers the last word before he stands from his position in front of you, rushing off to get your meltdown kit equipped with sensory aids of all types along with a pair of noise canceling headphones and a pair of tinted glasses in case the light is too much for you to take in.

You keep your eyes closed as you wait for him to return, the pitter patter of his feet across the hardwood is louder than usual as he makes his way back over to you. He leaves you with the kit before rushing to start your shower and pick out your clothes. You always tell him that after you have a meltdown you just want to be left alone, you need space to come down completely. He watches from afar as you put on the headphones and open your favorite calming candle to smell. He makes sure to stay just far enough for you to have your space but close enough to be there if you need him. Once you go to the bathroom for your shower he sits outside of the door, listening for any signs of a follow up meltdown. He takes a deep breath and before he can stop it a tear falls, trailing down his cheek and leaving a path for the rest to follow. He squeezes his eyes shut as it all replays in his head. He yelled at you, he caused your meltdown, you could’ve passed out or ended up more hurt than you already are. God forbid you had a shutdown, he’d never be able to live with himself if he caused that but he could honestly barely stand himself now. He took out his phone, typing a text to Minho, hoping for someone to help calm him down before he sees you again. He’ll only allow himself to fall apart behind the scenes, he doesn’t want to add to your distress any more than he already has. A couple seconds go by after he’s sent the text before his phone is vibrating in his hands. He swipes the green button and brings his phone up to his ear. He takes in a shaky breath before he lets the words leave his lips.

“I fucked up…”

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queers-gambit · 7 months

Text

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover"

prompt: ten years ago, Lucerys claimed Aemond's eye, and now, a Lannister will claim her debt.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.5k+

note: i use 'lover' because it sounds like the original line, 'mother'. also, what the fuck is this, Cherry?

warnings: very much not for minors! deranged characters? blood lust? depiction of grotesque, unhinged behavior. there's cursing, depiction of canon-typical violence and injury, show timeline and spoilers that lead into some VAGUE book references that might produce a slight AU timeline...? character death, obviously Team Green, so, there's some Team Black slander. half edited!

⚠️ season one, episode ten AND book spoilers

PLEASE BE AWARE I AM GOING TO MERGE THIS ONESHOT INTO A SMALL SERIES BUT WILL STILL LEAVE THIS UP

I AM CHANGING LANNISTER READER INTO A VELARYON READER

Rain water beaded against his leather trench overcoat, rolling off him like pellets to leave a scattered trail on the material. His boots splashed in the muddy terrain, dark castle looming tall in the stormy sky, and Mother Nature voiced her displeasure in the form of booming claps of thunder throughout the raging storm.

Long, straight hair turned unruly and crinkled in the torrential downpour; sticking to clothes and clinging to skin. His sword was latched to his weapons belt, bobbing on his hip with every stride he took to approach the Keep of The Stormlands, Storm's End.

"Identify yourself!" A guard shouted through the haze of rain.

You smirked, "Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys Targaryen, the Peaceful, and rider of Vhagar along with his wife, Lady Lannister."

The guards exchanged looks, then the other asked, "What business do you have here?"

"Official business that surely goes beyond your responsibility," you snapped. "We require an audience with your liege lord. Is Lord Borros in? Willing to receive? You'd do well to answer quickly, Vhagar isn't known for her patience - nor is my husband and I."

There was no dispute in leading you into the castle's throne room, members of court lingering in curiosity when they saw the One Eyed Dragon Prince and his Lady Lioness prowl through Storm's End. Lightning struck to flash through the cracks of the eery castle, creating an uneasy atmosphere and making Storm's End feel spookier then it probably was. Aemond smirked when you looked around the semi-empty throne room, the guards instructing you to stay put as their lord was fetched; you looking positively bored.

"You seem to have a natural liking towards our new status, do you not, my lioness?" He mused softly. "The way you commanded the guards to retrieve their Lord for us was very telling of your ease."

"Perhaps. Though I do not like the reason we are here, flexing our status in the first place," you told him with a sharp look. "Surely, there's other alliances to be made, Aemond. Why marry you off to some plain-faced Baratheon bitch?"

"Because war's come for us and we must all sacrifice for the cause," he sighed, staring at you without so much as twitching; letting you approach until standing chest-to-chest. "We require this pact, my love, because we must strengthen Aegon's claim. To use Daeron and I as marriage pawns feels logical given our proximity to the King."

You snarled, "You told me yourself that Aegon did not deserve to be King. Now, we must sacrifice our marriage vows for his claim?"

"I know it is not ideal," he relented, "but it's our current reality."

"Only for now, I sense the tides will turn several times before this is fucking over."

"Hmm."

When Lord Borros finally arrived, he appeared disgruntled by the abrupt arrival of you and your husband, Prince Aemond. He was grouchy, but still welcoming enough; slumped in his chair, eyeing you both, mentioning, "This must be of grave importance to arrive in such a manner, with no warning."

"It is," Aemond answered smoothly, "because war has come to shadow Westeros once more, my Lord."

"Is that so?"

"King Viserys is dead," he informed clearly, "and as such, the natural succession would've passed to the King's named heir, Princess Rhaenyra, but King VIserys had a change of heart. Instead of his daughter, the King wanted his first born son, Aegon II, to ascend the Iron Throne after him."

"And that's to do with me...?"

"The Princess will demand your loyalty, Lord Borros," you stepped in, "to uphold a stale oath your father made decades ago. Come the day, you will be forced to pick sides; yet we simply would like to offer you terms of consideration before hearing Rhaenyra's."

"If the Princess is willing to offer terms, that is," Aemond punctuated.

Borros sat still, then leaned in slightly, "And what are these terms you wish to offer, girl?"

"My Lady-wife has earned the title Princess, my Lord," Aemond corrected sharply, "and will be addressed as such."

Borros nodded stiffly, "Of course, my apologies."

"No matter," you assured. "Tell me, Lord Borros, do you not have unwed daughters?"

"I do, a gaggle of them."

You smirked, "My husband, though not King, is of ancient and rich Valyrian blood. He is happy to uphold customs of his ancestors by taking another wife - so, we offer a marriage pact in exchange for your swords and banners."

"And what of you?"

"What of me?"

"You would just let your husband wed another woman?"

"Who am I to question the will of the Gods?" You mused, figuring you wouldn't tell him how Aemond had already promised never to bed the Baratheon girl. "Should they smile upon this union, so would I. My father, may he rest in peace, before his passing ensured to instill in me a sense of duty and honor, Lord Borros, and with this civil war, we might all do our part to see the end of it."

He hummed, eyeing you both. "All right," Borros half-agreed, "but which of my daughters, hmm? I've four of them - uh," he snapped, "what is this? Someone fetch the girls! Let the Prince see - he may choose to wed whichever he deems acceptable."

"Do we have a deal, Lord Borros?" You asked.

He nodded, "Pending the Princess' terms - my father did swear fealty to Princess Rhaenyra, I would do well to honor that by at least hearing her."

"A noble answer," you accepted.

It wasn't a long wait for his four daughters to arrive, an even shorter wait for Aemond to make a decision. There was Cassandra, Maris, Ellyn, and Flora Baratheon - all ripe for the picking. "Well?" Aemond asked you.

You shrugged, "This is your choice, you're the one who has to bed her." His lips twitched in amusement, eyeing the women stood in a straight line. "Fuck's sake - why not kiss them all and chose that way? Leaves less room for surprise later. Plus what're the odds Rhaenyra's sent her envoy? We should solidify Baratheon's loyalty now."

Aemond chuckled, looking each woman over carefully as a guard entered the room. "My Lord," he called, earning the attention, "another dragon has been spotted and is approaching the Keep."

"What did I fucking say?" You smirked at Aemond.

"Receive whoever it is," Borros permitted. "And you? Have you come to a decision? My girl, Maris, there, would make a clever wife."

"I've one clever enough wife and would be overrun with another," Aemond answered wistfully. "The Lady Flora is acceptable."

"Very well," Borros nodded, "and the terms of dowry?"

You watched as Aemond pulled Flora from the line of sisters, standing to the side as he examined her. He told Lord Baratheon the number of Gold Dragons he thought his daughter was worth, the two haggling lightly over prices before Borros accepted that with the threat of war, his son might become preoccupied, so, the seat of Storm's End would be inherited by Aemond and Flora's children.

Thunder rumbled as a deal was struck.

Boots marched down the stone hall and all conversation ceased to await the newcomer with taunt curiosity. Aemond subtly turned to look at you, ignoring his pretty new intended, as a procession of guards marched into the gloomy room. You boldly stared at the arrival, feeling your heart stall in your chest when you saw it was him... That bastard... The Strong Bastard that mutilated both you and your husband a decade ago.

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon," it was announced, marching coming to an echoing halt. Aemond chose that moment to turn and present himself to the young prince who haunted your every living and dreaming nightmare. He looked startled to see you both there, the guard ending, "Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

Against the thundering storm, Lucerys spoke timidly - as if, any louder and his voice would squeak and crack. "Lord Borros... I brought you a message from my mother... The Queen."

"Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King," Borros shot at the young prince. "Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it." He laughed at his own joke, but when none others joined, he asked Lucerys stoically, "What's your mother's message?"

The Strong Bastard just held up a scroll like the spoilt brat he was, a guard taking it from his fingers to walk it to the Stag Lord since the Prince deemed himself too important to hand deliver the message. Lord Borros sighed when he took up the scroll, looking expectingly to his court, then snapping, "Where's the bloody Maester?"

Lord Borros Baratheon could not read, you see.

So, you all waited as the Maester was retrieved; Lucerys sparing spooked looks at you and Aemond - the latter of whom just smirked in amusement. Luke couldn't truly see the disfigurement he caused, but your scars almost glittered in the flashes of lightning to assure him they were right where he left them. You turned to your husband, whispering in his ear, "Remember all those times when you promised me his eye as a gift? When shall we be presented an opportunity such as now?"

He shushed you with a restrained smirk, wanting so bad to entertain your banter - and daydream about doing to Luke what he did to you two. You told Aemond you didn't need Luke to bear a scar like your own, and that's when he promised to give you the Prince's eye.

The Maester arrived when Luke felt uneasy enough to palm a fist around the hilt of his sword, elderly man hobbling up to Lord Borros, taking the scroll, then reading it.

The Maester bent to summarize the letter to his Lord. You smirked at Aemond when Borros snapped, "'Remind' me of my father's oath? King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact! If I do as your mother bids," he leaned forward on his throne, looking to the side, asking, "which one of my daughters will you wed... Boy?"

"My Lord," Lucerys trembled, "I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed."

"I did not realize betrothal was weighed heavier than marriage," Borros sneered, indicating to you and Aemond, "which means you come with empty hands. Go home, pup, and tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

There was a beat as his words sunk in.

"I shall take your answer to the Queen, my Lord," Lucerys informed, sparing everyone one last look before turning on his heel to vacate.

Yet he couldn't just walk away so easily.

"Wait," Aemond called out loud before you could, the Prince halting, "my Lord Strong." You grinned when Luke turned fully and then stepped forward to the edge of his guarded protection, a look of disbelief adorning his features. "Did you really think that you could just fly about the Realm," he continued, taking a few slow, stalking steps forward with you on his flank and Floris stepping further away, "trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

"I will not fight you," Lucerys declared. "I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

You giggled to mock the boy's sword skill, wanting to hurt the boy's ego as much as possible. Your husband smirked at you before musing, "A fight would be little challenge." He paused to consider his options. "No," he told Lucerys, reaching for his eye patch and pulling the leather from his head. "I want you to put out your eye," He growled, staring at Luke, sapphire winking in the low torchlight; his arm coiling around your waist to keep you at his side. He explained, "As payment for mine. One will serve," and he flipped back his leather overcoat to reveal a dagger, yanking it free to toss across the distance at Lucerys. It clattered and skidded, the sound ominous between the claps and rolling booms of thunder. "I would not blind you," he told the boy. Then, as if concealing a smirk, he finished, "Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover."

The ground shook violently when Vhagar landed outside the Driftmark Dragon Pit. The air whooshed your hair back, little feet stumbling back a few paces into the rock wall, hair on the back of your neck standing on end when Aemond dismounted the beast. It wasn't as if you weren't proud or incredibly impressed by his ability to claim the oldest dragon in the known world, but you weren't a Targaryen and dragons made you uneasy.

You could understand animals had minds of their own, and while, yes, Targaryens were closer to Gods than Men because they fly on dragons, you knew they did not control the dragons. They merely domesticated the winged terrors, but you knew the animal could snap at any moment's notice. You didn't like being so close as to become an accidental casualty, so you waited in the mouth of the Pit to give plenty of room between you and Vhagar.

"Well? How was it?"

Aemond beamed at you, "Like nothing I've ever experienced before."

"She's much, much bigger up close," you eyed the dragon watching you both. She was too large in size for the Dragon Pit, but for you, it was a way back into the Driftmark Castle; so, Vhagar was left to her own devices as you and Aemond strode inside.

"You'll have to come flying with me."

"No, no, I like the ground very much. It's safer down here."

"You'll love flying, I can all but promise you."

"If the Gods wanted me in the air, they'd of made me a Targaryen," you teased, both entering the torch-lit passage. "Alas, I am not, so, I think it wise to keep my feet on the ground."

"I'll get you on dragonback with me one day," he smirked. "She's the oldest, you know, and the largest, too."

"I know," you beamed in amusement.

"And she's mine," he whispered, shaking his head and fighting off his grin. You looped your arm with his, giggling your praise over his display of bravery; entering the division foyer of the Pit only to spy Prince Daemon Targaryen's daughters, Baela and Rhaena, with Princess Rhaenyra's sons, Jacerys and Lucerys Velaryon.

"It's them!" One barked.

"It's us," Aemond sneered quickly, understanding confrontation when he felt it. You didn't like this... Something about this exchange felt very wrong; there was four of them, two of you, and you were not their blood relative - so, why be involved at all?

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon!" Rhaena seethed.

"Your mother's dead," Aemond reminded sharply.

You smirked, tacking on, "And Vhagar has a new rider now."

"She was mine to claim!"

"Then you should've claimed her!" You barked in annoyance. "You are not the only dragon-less Targaryen, but you're the one who expects to just be gifted one!"

Aemond sneered right after you, "Maybe your cousins can gift you a pig to ride. It would suit you."

This (rightfully) angered the girls. Rhaena charged and latched onto Aemond but was easily swatted to the ground. At that same moment, her twin, Baela, took the opportunity to jab her knuckle into your nose, sending you into the dirt. "Fuck's sake!" You snapped, Aemond clocking the injury and slamming his fist against Baela's cheek to send her into the dirt, too.

Aemond helped you to your feet as he snarled at the girls, "Come at us again and I'll feed you to my dragon!"

Jace charged, and from there, it was a blur of adrenaline. Before you understood, you were defending yourself from a hurricane of fists and feet; reaching up to grab hold of Rhaena's locs and yank as hard as you could. It gave you a small advantage to get up, see the three others beating on Aemond, and rushed for the fray.

The Prince saw you and pause his resistance to let you grab hold of Baela - also pulling her so hard, a loc or two might've been ripped from her scalp. Aemond kicked Jace, you sent the girls into the dirt, and Aemond managed to catch hold of Lucerys by the throat as he got to his feet. Aemond's hand found purchase on a large rock, standing above them all as you panted from his side; rock raised in threat.

"You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did!" Aemond declared, snarling, "Bastards."

Through his whimpering, Luke sobbed, "My father's still alive!"

For a moment, Aemond appeared disarmed, but then sneered, "He doesn't know, does he? Lord Strong?"

This upset Prince Jacerys enough that he brandished a concealed dagger from his sleeve; holding it at the ready, ignoring his cousin's pleas of his name. "Blade in play," you warned Aemond.

Luke was kicked away, Jace was dodged, disarmed, then shoved to the ground. You were all bruised, bloodied, beaten; thinking that despite twice the numbers, you and Aemond managed to hold your own pretty damn well. The Prince lifted the rock again, this time with his sights set on Jace, ignoring Luke scrambling in the dirt.

Pretty damn well until it was too late.

You screamed in absolute horror when a white hot pain flashed across your face when you meant to turn away from the fight. You went down, Aemond looked over in shock and confusion, and in that moment, Lucerys swung his brother's blade again. It cut through half of Aemond's face, the eye being severed in two; blood gushing between both your hands.

Of course, this was the time the White Cloaks arrived - but it was too late. The damage was done. You sobbed uselessly as the knights tried to help you off the ground, trembling violently as adrenaline wore off. You were instantly escorted to the castle's throne room where the Maester and other attendants met you.

Guards posted.

Blood soaked into cloth.

The Queen arrived with the Hand before anyone else - instantly demanding her son (and you) be attended to at once. She listened to the shaky account of events, but it was difficult to get an accurate picture as you and Aemond were both preoccupied with being medically attended to.

You held Aemond's hand as you were both cleaned up. There was nothing to save, Aemond's eye removed and your face being pinched and stitched. Nearly 200 years from now, one of your descendants will earn nearly the exact same scar during the Battle of the Blackwater; a mark that cut through the face from temple, over the nose, to opposite ear.

You listened to the spoiled brats spin their webs, opting to remain quiet in the presence of the King.

However, after Princess Rhaenyra finally showed up with Prince Daemon, after Lord Corlys Velaryon and Lady Rhaenys Targaryen arrived, attention shifted.

" - Didn't just mutilate our son, but the Lady Lannister as well!" Alicent raged.

King Viserys eyed you as if seeing you for the first time, slowly approaching. "My Lady," he spoke softly, "you have not yet said a word this evening."

"It is not my place, Your Grace."

"It is now," he permitted. "Speak, and tell me the truth of it. What happened tonight?"

You swallowed nervously, "The Prince Aemond claimed his dragon, Vhagar, Your Grace, and upon returning, the... Uh, well, the Princes Jacerys and Lucerys along with their cousins, Ladies Rhaena and Baela, were waiting for us."

"Waiting?" Viserys repeated.

"Yes, Your Grace, I believe they wanted to see who had claimed Vhagar," you offered.

"Who hit who first?"

With a sigh, you answered, "Lady Baela hit Prince Aemond first. A solid hook, for whatever it's worth."

Alicent now approached, squatting in front of you and asking, "How did you sustain such injury, Lady Lannister? Come... Speak the truth. Tell us the meaning of this."

"Prince Jacerys brought the blade, Your Grace," you mumbled, "but it was lost in the scuffle. It was Prince Lucerys who offered injury to both Prince Aemond and I."

You could've cried when Rhaenyra, as usual, managed to somehow spin your story into making her sons the victims. Despite being told the four ambushed you two, they weren't even reprimanded because their parents were all so angry that it truly distracted from the present situation at hand. In the end, Queen Alicent snapped and charged to attack, but the Princess Rhaenyra intercepted her before damage could be done.

The blade Alicent stole from her husband's belt was dropped - but not before the tip sliced into the flesh of the Princess' forearm. You were fuming, watching them all leave; you had been seriously maimed, and so far, you had been the one spoken to as if a criminal. Rhaenyra would need stitches, sure, and a broken nose was the worst of their injuries - but Aemond lost his eye, and you?

You felt as if you lost your life because who the hell would want you now? With this scar? This big, fat, noticeable scar that split your face? Sure, your Lannister name would get you places - but not everywhere. Considering your young age, this only left time for rumors to fester and for everyone to notice your injury; being no escape and no where to hide from ridicule.

For years, you would consider yourself damaged. For years, you would mourn yourself. For years, you would sharpen your mind, wit, and intelligence because if you couldn't bring standard "beauty" to the table, you wanted to be able to offer something redeeming.

For years, you would undergo emotional turmoil before your engagement to Aemond is announced; convincing yourself you did not deserve love because your anger made you likened to a shrew. You felt ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside; a product of your environment and experiences. When the promise of marrying your best mate was bestowed, the entire court was shocked by the 180 you both did; where once stony and stoic, both were now soft and kind - but only to one another.

To everyone else, you were both still stony and indifferent. But to each other? You and Aemond would move mountains.

Yet that night on Driftmark would haunt for you for the rest of your lives; no matter the promise of love, marriage, and a 'normal' life. Late nights would be held together, fantasizing about your revenge; considering the future in which you made Lucerys Strong pay for what he did to you.

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover."

"No," Lucerys barked, looking distraught by the sheer idea of what Aemond demanded. His answer made the amusement drain from Aemond's features, this was a man not often told no. His hand passed you his eye patch for safe keeping; the raging storm outside portraying the tension brewing in the throne room of Storm's End.

"Then you are craven as well as a traitor."

"Not here!" Borros understood fighting words when he heard them - not wanting the repercussions of a dead or injured Prince Lucerys, because, let's face it, Luke couldn't do damage to Aemond even if he tried.

Aemond literally sprang into action, releasing his grip on you, shouting as he strode forward. "Give me your eye," he stooped to snatch his dagger from the ground, "or I will take it, bastard!"

Lucerys brandished his sword for protection, but Borros launched out of his seat to intervene by shouting, "Not in my hall!" This made Aemond skid to a halt. "The boy came an an envoy. I'll not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon... Now."

You smirked when Aemond just watched the boy flee the hall, hand flipping his dagger expertly before sheathing it. You met his gaze, holding prolonged eye contact to publicly show you were not afraid of him, his looks, his lack of eye, or adoration for him.

"Well, Lord Borros," you mused, turning to the Stag Lord, "looks as if you've chosen in this war."

He huffed, "We can discuss specifics later."

Aemond nodded, "We'll be off."

"Do not - "

"You said no blood shed under your roof," you reminded, "not above."

"The Prince is young and small - "

"We gave him a fair head start." Borros looked ready to rebuttal, but you snapped, "We're at war, my Lord. Either you let the dragons fight in the skies or it'll be your men fighting in the trenches. The choice is yours."

"See that? His woman bites harder than he," Maria scoffed to her sisters, only juuuuust loud enough for her voice to carry across the room. Then she snarled at your husband, "Tell me, Prince Aemond, was it just your eye Prince Lucerys took, or one of your balls, too? You threw a dagger at him and stopped when Daddy said stop," her eyes rolled, "those are not qualities of a man."

You were ready to attack. In fact, you started striding up to Maris when Aemond intercepted you swiftly with a suffocatingly strong grip. "We've more important matters," he reminded you, turning, and promising to send word to Lord Borros before disappearing out of the side door.

"How dare she," you seethed on your way to Vhagar. "That buck-tooth looking rodent dares insult you? Her own Prince? In front of others - oh, the nerve of that family!"

"Bigger picture at work here, love," Aemond mused as he fixed his patch back on, never one to address the things that were bothering him - like when someone hurt his feelings or bullied him over his missing eye.

But you were always ready to bite those that offered insult. You were a Lion in a golden cage, after all.

You grumbled the entire time, reaching Vhagar, launching as discreetly as she possibly could to scan the skies. It wasn't easy to find the Prince because his dragon blended into the storm so perfectly, but once the tiny beast was located, you were locked on. You rode behind Aemond in his saddle, both being harnessed to prevent any unseating; the combined weight never phasing his ol' girl. Vhagar understood they were in some kind of chase, and when she gave a grumble that rumbled over the thunder you flew through, Aemond gave her a command in High Valyrian to quiet herself.

You could see glimpses of Luke turning to search areas you had just vacated; loving this game of cat and mouse. You hoped the anticipation and anxiety of being watched was upsetting the Prince - just so he had a little bit of emotional trauma from this, you know? Just so he had a little taste of the emotional turmoil you had to suffer the past decade.

"Ready?" Aemond asked you.

You squeezed his waist before boldly reaching down to palm his cock through his breeches, hissing in his ear, "Do it, you owe me a gift."

Aemond grinned and directed Vhagar to circle around and fly forward until almost colliding with Lucerys - should he not've steered Arrax lower at the last moment. The close call was enough to make you both laugh, the sound traveling over the noisy nature. Aemond turned Vhagar again, trying to snatch at Arrax with her talons while your husband hurled insults and taunting phrases as his nephew.

With a small groan, you reached for a separate piece of the saddle to hold onto while Aemond drove Vhagar into a nosedive after the smaller dragon. When they came up to a cavern of sea rocks, Aemond was forced to pull Vhagar back before she could crash - but Arrax had no issue navigating into and through the canyon. You were forced to fly above it, searching for your prey once more.

Lucerys seemed to evade you for a time.

"What happens when we find him?"

"I will have the bastard's eye," he reminded you.

"Yes, but what if he resists?"

"Of course he will."

"So you mean to kill him? Is that the plan, Aemond?"

He did not answer you, looking over Vhagar's sides for his prey. He shouted in High Valyrian, "You owe a debt! Boy!"

Suddenly, from your left, Arrax descended upon Vhagar with a vicious spewing of fire that licked your flesh hatefully. Aemond flinched back into your chest, trying to shield yourselves from the heat of the flames, but it was too late. You cried out, whimpering with discomfort when the flames died; marring and mangling your skin. Prince Lucerys was heard scolding his dragon, and for a moment, you felt as if you could see the future because there was no way Vhagar was going to let that kind of disrespect occur and do nothing about it.

The ol' girl gave a rumble before bellowing after Arrax. She turned herself to where the other dragon had disappeared and started to push off as her owner begged and pleaded with her not to. "Serve me, Vhagar, no!" He commanded, desperate to keep his beast under control, but being evident these two wild animals were in an altercation all their own and meant to follow their instinct.

"We want his head still, Vhagar!" You laughed loudly, Aemond growling with a smirk.

"Do not encourage her!"

"Do not try to domesticate a 180-year-old dragon!" You gave a small whoop of excitement. "She's a Dragon of War, Aemond! Violence is what she knows!"

He grunted as he struggled with the reins. However, Vhagar ignored him and made her own turn, pumping her wings twice and then breaking into the morning sun above the storm. For a fleeting moment, it was incredibly gorgeous to be so high in the sky...

And then it was over before anyone could stop it.

Vhagar opened her mouth and gave one chomp around the body of boy and dragon. There was a shrill cry of fear before Vhagar's moan of content, then eery silence settled as half-consumed bits fell to the ground beneath.

"Well," you cleared your throat, staring at the bloody bits falling, "if it wasn't enough that Aegon took her crown, surely, the two of us taking her son will be the push Rhaenyra needs to meet us in conflict."

"No," he cleared his throat, "you were not here - "

"I was, I would not allow you to bear this burden on your own. To take the blame," you met his eye. "I encouraged this just as much, and Rhaenyra will know it was us - she'd never believe I was not involved."

"Can you not be logical right now?" He trembled, leaning his forehead to yours.

"Okay..." You whispered, "Well, could we go see if there's anything left?"

"That's morbid, my love."

"What? You're the one who promised me his eye. I know you didn't mean for this, but the truth is," you smirked, "you did. You knew what pursuing him would result in - your dragon doesn't understand your need for revenge, she understands eat or be eaten."

Aemond sighed, "Too soon for that phrase."

"Noted. Now, c'mon," you encouraged, giving his waist a squeeze. "I know you're curious to see what's left, too."

And he was, so Aemond directed Vhagar back down. It was difficult to predict where the body parts could've ended up, but seemingly, luck was on your side and you descended to the shore. There was a small scattering of remains, bits being washed up or away with every new lap of sea water.

You dismounted and started searching through the remnants, storm still outlandishly raging around you. "Love?" Aemond spoke from behind you, making you jump slightly. He smirked, "Got something for you, my Lioness."

"You do not..." He held up the messily decapitated head of Lucerys "Velaryon", your laugh surprising and genuine. "Oh, we're sooo going to Seven Hells," you sighed, shrugging, "but you know, it doesn't really get worse than what we've already done, so," you motioned for him to set the head down.

"Here," he agreed, using his dagger to harvest Lucerys' eyeballs from the skull you helped hold. When he was done, you chucked the head away before Aemond's bloody hands set both eyes in your cupped, outstretched palms; watching you weigh them.

"You know, Lannisters always pay their debts," you mused, smirk pulling at your lips, "but we also are always repaid our debts. How strange, to hold his eyes and think they were once functioning... In his head, of use, probably full of tears when Vhagar chased him in the sky."

"Hm," Aemond considered, then pointed to your hand. "It's with his eyes, I promise you, my Lioness, the fall of our enemies." He proclaimed, then musing, "Should we give Maris Baratheon one to prove ourselves?"

You smirked, "She said you must've lost your balls, right?"

"Almost positive Vhagar ate Lucerys' so we cannot present her with them."

"Damnit," you pouted. "All right, fine, sure, we might show the Baratheon's we mean war... But I'd like to keep them both, please."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Put them in a jar and keep until I'm no longer angry about what he did to us..."

"So, his eyes are going on our mantle?"

"You bet your sweet balls," you grinned, twirling Lucerys Velaryon's Strong's organs in your hand like a pair of game dice.

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