#what does it mean to do more than you've been commanded | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonny-kookoo · 7 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐎𝐟𝐟-𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 | Dogworthy

"Oh you'd be surprised by what this tiny package has to offer."

Tags/Warnings: Police Officer!Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, Partners to lovers?, Alternate law-system/made up laws, crime, futuristic, sci-fi, body-modifications?, Fluff, romance, Adult themes (sex, alcohol, mentions of drugs but no consumption), Comedy?, Angst, gender prejudice but it's resolved, past injury, MC tackles a guy?, wholesome police action, Seokjin being a menace

Length: 4k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook and you have been partnered for almost four years now.

When he was training, he always wondered what his future hybrid partner would be like. Would they be older than him? Younger? He's seen a lot of officers with their hybrids- he will probably get a male partner, as it's the norm most of the time, female hybrids too fearful and nurturing most of the time. What he didn't think would happen was to be partnered with you- because, if he just had to look at you, he'd never think you'd work in the police force in the way that you do.

Basic tracking? Maybe. But actual criminal pursuits and field work? No way.

It's not until you both started training that he saw beyond your mere physical appearance. From seeing you in action in defense and attacks, to learning how to command you properly- and now, living with you, since he has to be ready as quickly as he can if a job comes in. You could loose valuable time if you had to go back to the station and get your partner and then respond to the call, after all. So Jungkook and you live in the same apartment- with you having your own room, while he takes care of you as a part of his main job.

Your diet, exercise, healthcare- all of that is a part of his job as a hybrid canine handler.

And it's a good job- it offers him a way to feel needed and valued, gives him a purpose even when he's off-duty. Although he has to admit, that sometimes, he does feel a little bad- because vacations he takes are off-limits for you, due to insurance reasons. Jungkook would have to file in for actual ownership over you, and that's out of the question after merely a four year span. You have to be with him for at least five.

And he knows handlers who haven't filed in for ownership after more than ten years even.

Turning off the stove as he prepares your breakfast, he hears the familiar sound of your room opening, before your naked feet tap into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. You typically wake up as soon as he does- you've told him that it's a simple instinct thing, that you've begun to adjust to his rhythm at this point in time, and it makes everything a whole lot easier. Because you can be a little grumpy whenever you have to get up early- so whenever you wake up yourself, it take a big weight off his shoulders.

When you walk in later, your food is already cooled off enough for you to sleepily dive in- a sight Jungkook has gotten used to by now, as he sips on his own coffee, watching you. "We're on call for today." He tells you, though he will probably have to tell you again later when you're actually awake. "Means you don't have to rush." he offers, and you nod, humming a reply as you eat your breakfast, tail floppy and hanging down, no tension in your body yet.

If anyone saw you right now, they'd never guess what your job is- or what you've been through already.

Like the first time you bit him, faint scar still decorating the back of his hand- which was entirely deserved, now that he looks back at it.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ Flashback ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook feels a bit.. odd, looking at his coworkers play around with their hybrid partners.

All of them are male,, roughhousing playfully, no need to hold back as they throw toys back and forth, chasing birds and just.. having fun. Meanwhile you're busy napping in a sunny spot, unbothered by the loud sounds of everyone enjoying the sunny weather.

"Having a hybrid can be exhausting, huh?" A friend of his and fellow handler, Seokjin says as he sits down next to the younger police officer who just shrugs. "Is she adapting well?" He wonders, and again, Jungkook shrugs, watching everyone playfight with a sense of longing. You've finished your basic training with Jungkook a few weeks ago- so it's not even been half a year yet that you both have worked together.

"Maybe." He just answers.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about that." Jin jokes. "What's wrong?" He worries, always a bit protective over his younger friend.

"I don't know. I think because- you know, she's female, I feel like I can't really warm up to her." He admits. "It's weird."

"Did you even try and connect with her?" Seokjin offers. "She's pretty sweet if you ask me. I trained with her a bit when she joined here."

"Then change with me?" He asks. "I take Yoongi, and you take her." He offers, making Seokjin sigh- before he shakes his head, patting the younger one's back.

"Oh boy, you need to learn a thing or two first." He laughs a little, before he leaves him alone. And for a good moment Jungkook doesn't understand- until he looks over to where you're sitting, glaring, but not in an angry way.

You're clearly hurt.

Later that day, when he opens the car door to let you out, he wants to offer you a pat on the head like he always does after a finished day at work-

but this time, you bite, teeth leaving a clear imprint in his palm, causing him to retract it in shock. "I'm sleeping in the car." You huff, arms crossed before you move to crawl into the furthest corner of the car, refusing to come out.

"You can't sleep in the car-"

"I can, and I will!" You bark back, as he signs, runs a hand over his face, and closes the door to walk around to the other side- but the moment he opens the door there, you've crawled into the opposite corner, and it's not a game you're playing, very obviously. "Leave me!" You growl. "I'll tell them you don't wanna be my partner tomorrow so you can get a new hybrid." You huff annoyed.

"I didn't mean it like that-" he wants to defend himself, but in all honesty, he did mean it like that. He doesn't know what to do- he feels this odd sense of awkwardness with you, and he blames it on your gender by default, not really looking past that for any other cause.

It was the easiest thing to do- and back then, Jungkook used to be lazy like that.

He slams the door shut in frustration, and even walks inside his apartment to get ready for bed. So be it! If you want to go be petty in the car, you can be his guest!

But the minute it starts raining, he feels horrible.

He shouldn't be so mean to you just because you might not be what he was expecting to get. You can't do anything about that- it's not your fault you've been paired up with him.

So he opens the car door and sits inside the back with you- rain pattering on the roof of the car, as he awkwardly plays with his hands. "I wanna sleep." You tell him. He nods. It's late.

"The come inside." He sighs, looking at you. "I'm sorry I said what I said. I.. that was uncalled for, and you have every reason to be upset." He agrees. "But.. please be upset inside. Where I know you're safe and warm and all that." He awkwardly requests.

"I'll still let them know you don't wanna be my partner." You mumble, wanting to get out- but he reaches out to you instead before you can open your door, not caring about being bitten again.

"Dont." He requests. "I want to make this work. I just.. don't know how." He explains himself. "I'm worried I might be too rough with you or I might upset you more than once or twice." He tells you. "I'm worried."

"...you were still mean." You huff. "Just because I'm a female dog hybrid doesn't mean I don't want to play tug.. Just because I'm a female doesn't mean I can't play-wrestle with you like the others sometimes do in the yard. You could've just asked." You express, and he nods, realizing that now as well.

"Will you let me be your partner still?" He asks, and you nod after a moment.

"We can try."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅Flashback End⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He's putting down his empty cup of coffee now, before me walks into the bathroom to fetch a hairbrush and hairtie.

As he starts to run the bristles through your hair, your tail wags sleepily- you enjoy things like these a lot, no matter in what context. Jungkook has grown on you over the years, and he'd even go as far as to already say that he'll take you with him into retirement- you just fit so well together at this point.

As he gathers your hair in his tattooed hand, he's gentle with it- knows that it gives you a headache if he pulls the hairtie too hard against your skull, and he doesn't want that to happen. It took trial and error to figure out things like this, and as he makes sure that the ponytail stays low on your head, he can't help but remember the moment he first got a taste of the dangers of his and most of all your job.

It was terrifying.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ Flashback ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

It's your third major job.

Your first two went down effortlessly- you got this, after an entire year of working together. You're a good team, and he prides himself in knowing that he, in his opinion, has the best hybrid in the entire policeforce right now.

So he doesn't think when he opens the metal enforced car door of the back where you're sitting, pacing, waiting for something to do- eyes wide open and tail wagging, ready to receive instructions as he looks at you.

He steps aside, points to two people running.

"Get 'em!" He calls out, and it's your signal to do what you do best, boot pressing against the edge of the car as you practically fly out.

It's always surprising so everyone who sees you working for the first time just how fast and most of all efficient you chase after suspects or criminals. You make up for your lack in height by instead using shortcuts and taking on obstacles, and with your heightened senses, no one can escape you for long.

Jungkook runs after you, a little slower, gun drawn as he calls out numerous times for them to stop running- but they don't.

They never do.

And all goes well- one of the suspects tripping so another officer can cuff him down, when Jungkook hears a sound he never wanted to hear in his life.

Your voice, crying out, yelp echoing in the alleyway out of his sight.

Adrenaline is pumping in his veins as he rounds the corner and aims his gun at the man still holding the metal pipe. "Put the pipe down!" Jungkook calls out, voice angry and dripping as much authority as he can put in it. "Put it down!" He commands again, and at this point in time, the man understands that there is nowhere to run with multiple officers arriving behind Jungkook as well.

And when he tries to run you're there, doing your job despite clearly being hurt- tacking him down, so that responding officers can cuff him and take him to a car where his friend is already sitting inside.

Jungkook will never forget the sight of you there.

Scratches on your cheekbone, and later on at home, purple bruises where the metal pipe had connected with your leg- bruising it badly, but not enough to break.

You got away easy.

What he'll never forget is the blame he placed on himself though, because it was your little ponytail high on your head that he made rather sloppily that morning which gave the man a good piece to tug on- forcing you down so he'd been able to get you off of him and into a vulnerable position.

Ever since then, Jungkook either puts your hair in a low bun, or a low ponytail tucked once into your hairtie to keep it out of the way.

Because he never wants to feel that guilt again.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅Flashback End⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're slowly waking up as he finishes up your hair, patting your head a little before he walks past you to bring your brush back into the bathroom.

Jungkook is an odd person to you.

He used to by almost childish- and not in the funny way. He'd also been extremely competitive to the point where it didn't feel at all as if you were partners- but as if he had to find reason after reason as to why you didn't need a hybrid for this or for that.

Tracking? Nowadays, most people have trackable body-mods like he himself has, so why need a hybrid? And wouldn't it be easier to just use a regular dog?

Intimidation was useless according to Jungkook, because no one would ever be intimidated by a hybrid like you. A male dog hybrid, maybe- but not you. That one, you remember, hurt a lot- because it tugged on every little insecurity you had.

Chasing could just be done by the cops themselves- Jungkook even trained to be able to outrun you, just to prove a point. Funnily enough, when it comes to actual field work however, he missed the key difference- because it's not just speed. It's about calculating where a suspect might go, and how you can be there faster to catch up.

Clearing rooms was done in the past by officers anyways- so why use a hybrid now? One could just use a scanner outside to search for any signs of live in a building.

It was weird to you. If he hated hybrid work so much, then why sign up for it? Why train for it?

And then it hit you. He didn't hate hybrid work. He just didn't want you.

You're not sure when that changed- maybe he just accepted the fact that you're his partner now, or maybe he simply grew up. But these days, things are easy. Trust is easy.

And that's one of the most important parts of your job.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're on a regular patrol, walking around just so you can get some stretches into your legs from being in the car for so long, when Jungkook spots a woman, child in her arm, running through a field. It's clear that she's searching for something, and it must be important.

"Hey!" Jungkook calls out, walking closer with you walking behind. You're intimidating to some people due to people being aware that police hybrids are trained to be highly responsive to things like noise and faint signs of aggression- so you keep your distance, especially from children. "Everything alright?" Jungkook wonders, walking almost lazily to ensure the woman doesn't feel threatened.

"Ah- yes, I just lost my keys." She sighs, carefully rocking her child. "I don't know where- we were just playing around and they must've fallen out of my dress pocket when I didn't notice." She expresses in frustration, making Jungkook nod.

"Well, how about we help?" He offers, looking over his shoulder at you, who's tail instantly starts to wag at the prospect of a job. "Can she get closer so she can pick up the scent?" He asks, and the woman nods, holding out her hand for you to smell, her wrist providing optimal scent for you.

And then, Jungkook nods, and tells you to search.

Jungkook watches as you roam around, uncaring of the taller patches of grass or bugs you scare up into flying away in the field. "She's walking exactly where I walked.." The woman says, and even the toddler in her arm is now quiet, watching with big brown eyes as you search around, causing Jungkook to chuckle.

"Hybrids are really good at tracking." He explains. "They can somewhat see scents they concentrate on- it's pretty interesting." He shrugs, when you suddenly call his name, making him look at you. "Bring it here!" He calls to you, and you nod with excitement, running towards him to drop the keychain into his hand, the woman sighing in relief.

"That's my keys! Oh god, I would've been here hours!" She says happily, though her toddler tries reaching out for you now, clearly interested in your big ears in top of your head. "No no no, she might not like that honey." She scolds gently, but Jungkook smiles.

"If you're nice and don't tug, it's okay." He explains, as the mother let's her toddler down onto her feet, as you sit down into the grass, letting the child closer, her tiny hands feeling your ears.

"Ah this is so adorable.. is it okay if I take a picture of them together?" The mother asks, and he nods, happy that he's getting these moments.

Jungkook and you are set to soon move from active duty to community police- something Jungkook signed you both up for when the most recent team resigned after seven years. A new, fresh set of officers was needed- and considering that you've never had any mishaps in your entire time of service, the department though that you two and two other teams would be perfect to raise the people's trust in the police again, just like the teams before you already started to do.

So moments like these, captured and shared, are important. Because it's word of mouth, it's people telling people that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Making your way back home, Jungkook stops at a fast food place- walks in with you, causing a lot of people to stare, since it's not something many officers tend to do due to the uniforms you both wear being not really subtle.

But the tenseness of the room quickly melts away as you jump excitedly next to Jungkook when he orders you your favorite food- and a small cup of icecream to go along with it. Your tail wags wildly, and Jungkook can't help but laugh as you carefully walk up to the counter to get your icecream first before anything else-

a thank you falling from your mouth, as you begin to dive into your treat.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook laughs when you lay your head over Taehyung's lap- the young man having just finished his training, now set to start his additional training time to receive a hybrid of his own.

He's scratching your ears, playing around, clearly unaware of the fact that you're not a pet at all. "She's so cute!" He laughs when you slip a little, Jungkook helping you dust off your vest for you.

"Oh she's even cuter when she tackles murder suspects!" Jimin laughs as he walks in, giving you a small bottle of water, Taehyung tensing up. "And she's got a great grip once she gets her teeth on you. Jungkook would know." He chuckles. "Do you still have that scar?" He wonders, and Jungkook chuckles, nodding before he pushes up one of his sleeves-

clear bitemark faint but still visible, Tattoos having lost the ink in those spots, especially the two most prominent points from your canine teeth.

"Wait- how'd that happen?" Taehyung asks, watching how Jungkook pets your head, having noticed you shrinking in on yourself as you remember the day.

"It was my fault." Jungkook shrugs. "I forgot my training, and this was a consequence." He offers, pulling you to sit on his lap now, everyone on break sitting on the concrete part of the large yards where hybrids train and play.

"How come?" Taehyung asks, as you lean your back into Jungkook's front, looking around.

"It was right after a job." Jungkook says. "She was still high on adrenaline because she had to both chase someone and hold them down while they were armed and shooting." He remembers the day. "When I brought her back into the car, I reached out to pat her head, just like I always do- but because she was still in her work-mindset, she bit out of instinct." He shrugs.

"Oh." Taehyung nods, understanding. "I guess.. she can be underestimated?" He wonders, and Jimin laughs.

"Oh definitely!" He says, pushing Jungkook's shoulder a little, causing you to growl out of instinct. "Sorry munchkin. But, you should've seen them train! Jungkookies face every time she'd tackle down the instructor was hilarious to watch!"

"Wait, instructor Welsh?" Taehyung asks, making everyone nod in amusement. "But that guy is a beast.!" He wonders, looking at you with wide eyes-

though you just nod proudly and wag your tail.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Seokjin, I'm about to commit a first-degree murder right now, I swear." Jungkook groans, head on the table while the squeaking echoes through the breakroom, Jin however laughing loudly, windshield wiper laugh almost as high pitched as the new toy he brought for you.

"Oh come on- you can't tell me that isn't cute!" He argues, watching how you put the toy back on the table, pushing his shoulder to get him to throw it again-

and he groans again as if in pain, throwing it anyways, because Seokjin is fucking right.

You are too cute.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic

639 notes · View notes

97keanu · 5 months

Text

John Constantine x f!Reader

Premise: As Constantine's assistant, he tests your limits often. You know you're a smart, good girl. So when one wrong placed bet has you on your knees for Constantine as he enacts only your wildest fantasies, you don't know where you two stand anymore. You thought your little crush on him was buried deep, but it turns out you are willing to do much more than you ever want to admit. Tonight, he pushes you farther than you thought he ever would...

Tags/CW: MEAN!Constantine, bratty!reader, princess coded!reader, reader who thinks she's too good for you, leashed!reader, pet play, puppy!reader, bimbo-fied!reader, bdsm, age gap, p in v, f!reader, crybaby-ish!reader, crying kink, choking, AGGRESSIVE, oral (m receiving.), dub-ishcon, degradation, humiliation, praise kink, girl on top, raw, edging.

Be added to my tag lists here! Read more of my works here!

You knew making a bet with Constantine was never the right move. Your pride got ahead of you, trailing behind it your ego, and your intelligence, that you love to portray in yourself, nowhere to be found. You knew there was no way you would be able to figure out how to hunt a demon all by yourself, you should have never accepted a bet that if you did, Constantine would start treating your training seriously. Now, you've lost, and on top of it, you agreed to do whatever Constantine said from now on. And that does mean, whatever he says, you soon realize...

"I am not doing that, Constantine!" You stomp a chunky heeled foot and fold your arms, trying to look mean and serious the way he does, but failing.

"What's wrong, you're such a 'goody-two-shoes' that you can't have some fun every now and then?" He takes a long draw from his cigarette, he's so close you can smell the cologne mixed with smoke coming from him.

It was bitter and spicy, only the smallest hint of sweetness.

"Fun? You think leashing me is some sort of 'fun' for me?" You scoff and glare as he blows smoke into your face, batting it away with one hand.

"Yeah, it'll loosen you up a bit. Maybe you can turn that bright mind of yours off while I tug on your leash and make you sit pretty." He gives you a thump in your forehead when he mocks your smart tendencies, and you feel anger rising even more.

Your cheeks go red and you know you just look even more pathetic when you're mad at like this.

"I don't see how any of this has to do with learning to hunt demons or helping you." You scoff and turn your eyes from him, completely baffled by the whole idea.

"It might teach you that you can't just go off on your own trying to slay a demon before you're ready. It also might show you where you fit in all of this..." He teases you, pull a lock of your hair between two of his fingers.

"And where's that? Beneath you?" You say it with disdain, but the truth is that you wouldn't mind that so much. The heat between the two of you has been brewing since you started the job with him. It was only a matter of time...

"Lighten up, Princess. It's just my way of pay back for you losing the bet. Besides, I might even give you a treat if you're a good girl." He pulls your chin up, forcing your big doe eyes to look into his deep brown ones.

And that's how you ended up here. On your knees, a leather collar around your dainty little neck, looking up at Constantine as he tugs you towards him. You can't believe you've been brought so low. You started this job because you thought you had the smarts and academic research to help aid in finding demons. Now you're looking up at your own personal demon.

"Crawl." Constantine commands, and pulls on your leash, forcing you to follow if you don't want to be choked.

You feel so humilated. Your cheeks heat to a level that you didn't think possible, and your lip quivers as you try to force down your sudden feelings of inadequacy. Constantine is not stopping until you really know your place.

"Sit." He finally says once he's dragged you to the bedroom, yanking on your chain when you don't do so fast enough.

You feel tears welling up, and soon enough, you know it's not just because of how embarrassed you feel about the situation. Instead, you feel yourself beginning to like being commanded as such. Deny it all you want as tears roll down your cheeks, but you like giving up all the control you fight for.

"Don't cry," Constantine laughs at you, his cruelty knowing no bounds. "You don't know how much more it turns me on to see you cry..."

"You're sick..." You whisper and look at the ground, but Constantine's yank of your leash stops you from looking away.

"Don't act like you're not enjoying this, Princess. I can see it in your eyes." You gaze at him and hate how easily your rising arousal is seen.

Constantine sits on the bed, watching as you sit on your knees before him. The hard wood floors are leaving your knees aching already, and somehow that pain is sending heat between your legs in waves.

"I want you to undress." Constantine commands you.

You want to resist. You know resisting is almost as bad as admitting defeat, however. And since you've already lost once, getting you into this situation, you feel like the test is on now.

"This is completely ridiculous..." You grumble, your hands folding over your chest.

"Is it?" Constantine laughs while he looks down at you, cheeks hot and wet. "You're the one who agreed to let me test your limits however I desired. You knew what you might be getting yourself into. I'm sure you secretly hoped it would come to this."

His voice chides you like a child, making you feel even lower, and the worst part was, he was right. Fantasies of Constantine doing whatever he pleased with you had floated through your head when you agreed. You never thought it would involve treating you like a bad puppy, however.

"You're so cruel to me..." The last part comes out in a whisper as your arms move, lifting your shirt to reveal what you have on underneath.

"Interesting how such a prude as yourself has such sexy lingerie underneath..." Constantine's eyes eat you up.

He watches with hunger as you kneel there, your lacy, black bra the only thing that covers your chest, which is heaving with the nervous and aroused breaths you take.

"I..." You try to think of something smart-assed to say, but end up short.

The truth was, you started wearing such lacy and tempting things beneath your clothes soon after you started working for him. You know why.

You know that you wanted to be ready, just in case...

And now here you are, all blush and embarrassment, tear stained cheeks and anger for being brought to this, laid almost bare in front of him. This man you have claimed to his own face to dislike. You feel such a fool as yourself probably deserves to be treated as such as he pull your chain nearer to him.

"Don't be so pathetic, puppy..." He gives another yank. "I think you'll find if you're a good doggy for me I might just give you a treat."

You glare at him as you sit so perfectly between his legs. You can see the huge bulge pressed up against his black suit pants, and you shift your thighs uncomfortably as you realize how badly you want to take him into your mouth. When your big eyes look up at him, lashes batting and confused, Constantine smirks.

"You don't have to hold yourself back, go ahead, take it out." And despite yourself, your hands are moving to the zipper and buttons of his pants, so slowly.

You let Constantine's cock take over your view, flopping out of his pants and easily into your hands. You're tired of fighting it. The ache deep in your stomach and between your thighs has gotten too persistent to ignore, and now here you are, leashed and stroking your boss's cock.

You know how much he's enjoying this, beyond even just the pleasure you're feeding him right now with your hand. He likes this feeling of domination over you, likes seeing you finally let go. You can't help but feel like this is where he thinks you belong. Beneath him and doing what you're told.

"That's it..." He sighs, leaning his head back ad your hand warms his cock for him. Even just the smell of it from how close you are, is filling your pretty little head and driving you mad.

You bite your lip and look up to him, he's loosening his tie and pulls your leash again, leading you even further to do what he wants. Your mouth waters as you think about putting something as big as his cock in it. You don't even know if you could fit it all, to be honest...

You hear him let out a small moan, obviously not wanting to do so. And as he does, you realize he needs this, this release, just as much as you do. You may be the one leashed and collared, but he's the one who's needing his cock touched so badly right now.

You bring the tip to your pouty mouth, and Constantine's warm brown eyes look down at you. You look into them sweetly and tease him with your tongue. He seems to be responding well, until goes on too long, and he reached a hand up and takes it behind your head.

"I can't wait that long, puppy." His voice is filled with need, and as he pressed on the back of your head, you can't help but open up, taking his cock into your mouth.

What really surprised you was how deep he pushes you, taking in way more than you thought possible and still having more left over. You choke for a moment, and it's clear Constantine likes hearing it. He continues to bob your head for you, his grip tightening and getting rougher just to hear your muffled cries. You feel the tears welling up again, this time involuntarily, caused by how rough he's fucking your throat and face. You grip his thighs, hands against his pants, and look up at him like the pretty princess you are, being all used up by such a wicked man as him.

"God, you've got such a cute face when you take my cock like that..." He groans out, head falling back once more as he loses himself in you for a moment.

You feel how tight he has you pulled by your leash, and you know you couldn't stop if you wanted to. He has you so perfectly trapped right now, and somehow being so restrained makes your pussy even wetter. You had no idea you needed to be tamed like this.

Suddenly, he pulls your head violently from his cock, spit trailing and eyes blinking out a few more tears. You look up at him with your big wet puppy dog eyes, trying to catch your breath and stop from choking on your own spit that's accumulated.

"Alright, princess," he starts with a heavy breath of his own, pulling your lead and your hair as he moves you up on to the bed with him. "I want to see what else you can do."

Constantine perfectly places you on top of him, his cock underneath your pussy, your thin piece of underwear being the only thing stopping him from slipping inside of you.

He's kept most of his clothes on, and somehow it makes you feel even more degraded knowing that he doesn't even feel the need to get that naked and open to you. It feels quick, it feels easy, it feels like fucking a stranger in a seedy little hotel room. You adore it...

You don't even have to be told, your mind is taken over by your own needs, and you begin to rub your soaking pussy against his solid cock. Constantine smiles and seems to be praising you for your good slut abilities.

"Such a good whore for me..." He whispers, grabbing your hips and rocking you into him in just the right way.

You're so much smaller on his frame as you needily grind yourself into him. He seems so much bigger, and the fact that he's so much older than you, so much more mature, adds to the fact that you feel humiliated and used by him. You're sure he feels the same, and enjoys seeing your young little body using herself up on his cock. You can tell by the way he's looking at you right now, like a hungry wolf waiting for the perfect moment to slaughter the poor little lamb.

"Move them to the side..." He says with a husky breath, not even trying to be kind or nice in asking.

"Y-yes..." You muster out, and reach down, moving your panties out of the way to expose your wet little slit.

Constantine easily lifts you up, and in one solid motion, not waiting to let you acclimatize to such a large cock. You cry out, loud and long, and he cuts it off with a quick pull of the collar, that choking feeling back and the pain and domination mixing with the pleasure of being so perfectly full. You let out a few choked noises as he grinds you in as deep as humanly possible.

Your mind reels from how much has been taken from you already tonight, and a small bit of fear settles in you as you wonder what you've gotten yourself into. How aggressive could he possibly be? You have no idea, but right now, despite being on top, you've never felt so inferior to Constantine, and with the way he's cruelly enjoying your pain, you shudder.

He only let's you remain still like this for a moment, obviously admiring his handy work on you. Soon enough, he's quickly lifted you again, and slammed himself back into you. You feel as if you may break into two, his cock splitting you so deeply. He continues this, hitting the deepest parts of you with such pleasurable pain that you pant out, breaths shaking and mixing with your cries. Your cheeks are stained with your mascara as more salty tears find their release and you begin to wonder where a fucking like this was all your life.

"I love seeing you so sloppy and your perfect little make up your work so hard on completely fucked like this." You hear Constantine say as he continues to use your body however he likes, fucking you harder and faster as he goes.

One of his hands finds your clit, rubbing circles that cause you to double over into him, your hands gripping his white button down and tie, face so close to his now.

"A good whore doesn't come out of the bedroom without a mess on her face." He whispers to you, so close now, he can see all the pain and desperation, all the need and pleasure on your face as your mind is completely fogged.

You keep letting him take you, slowly becoming more and more malleable in his hands, becoming a moaning little mess of a girl that is being fucked on his cock, making a mess of that as well as you get wetter and wetter, his hand bringing you closer with every stroke against your swollen and needy clit.

All you can do is close your eyes and lose yourself on him. You feel yourself edging closer and closer, and your lip trembles, your teeth finding it and biting to keep yourself from cumming to fast, but it's no use.

"F-fuck...I'm going to..." You can't stop the whisper that comes, and you begin to unwind.

You feel him stop suddenly, and then laugh.

"I'm not doing all the work, princess." He says, and leans back, putting both his hands behind his head, one still holding your leash of course.

"Wh-what?" You blink, breathing trying to regulate, looking up at him like a lost little puppy.

"That's right, I wanna see you work yourself on me. It's time you do some of the work if you want to cum, that is." His stupid, mean, cocky face tells you there's no getting out of this, but your lip pouts anyways.

"Hey! That's not fair, I was so close..." You see that it doesn't matter what you say, and his accompanying laugh doesn't make you feel much better anyways.

Your aching and throbbing cunt gets the better of the situation, and you put aside your stubborn nature for the prize of more friction.

You lean up, one hand out stretched as far as it goes, keeping your balance on Constantine's chest. Your hips rock, slowly, then picking up speed and losing awkwardness in favor of deeper thrusts of his cock into you. You begin to moan, finally finding the ultimate pleasure you were missing, free hand moving to your clit once more and giving the needed attention.

"Don't you dare cum without asking me, puppy." Constantine has sat up a bit, so he can pull you closer and say this while looking directly into your eyes. His intensity let's know their will be punishments if you don't do as he commands. You nod your head, willing to do anything right now.

You continue on, fucking yourself perfectly, and feeling your pussy tighten on it's own around him. He's harder than ever, his hips bucking into a bit despite saying you needed to get your own cum from his cock.

"I love seeing you work so hard for it." He whispers, his hand reaching out and wrapping around your neck, moving your head to keep eye contact despite wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and relish in the pleasure.

"Constantine, please, I need to cum..." You whisper out, eyes pleading and messy with running mascara.

"You'll have to do better than that. I need you to beg like the good dog you are." He responds with a wicked grin, eating up all of your desperation with glee.

"Oh god, please, I can't keep this up," you try to get out of it, but his grip on your throat tightens.

"I decide when you cum. Get that through your pretty little head, princess." He scoffs.

"Fine," you cry as he digs his cock deeper right where you need it.

"I'm begging you, please let me cum, I'll do anything, I'll say anything, just let me cum..." The words come out whiney, and breathy, and fast, need building beyond what you ever thought, your hand having to take breaks on your clit, knowing if you don't you'll fall over the edge.

"Anything?" Constantine replies, and you have a bad feeling about the look on his face.

"A-anything..." You whimper out, grinding relentlessly like the needy little bitch you are.

"Fine." he licks his teeth. "Bark like a dog for me, and I'll let you cum."

You look at him stunned for a moment, not wanting to do something so humiliating, cheeks burning hotter than they already are.

"You're kidding..." He stops fucking you and tightens his grip on your throat further, choking out the second word, he doesn't need to say that he's not.

You feel so close, and you need this so bad, but you have never felt so degraded...

Moments pass, and the loss of friction and the need for more builds.

You hold your breath, trying not even to breathe right now, trying not even to give him anything after he's taken so much from you tonight.

When you do breath, you feel utterly embarrassed about what comes out.

A whimper, then a bark. From the look on his face, you know it's not enough. You continue, your bark growing louder and louder until you're desperately crying it out. When you look back, he's laughing at you, and you feel like a school girl again, getting bullied. Somehow, that makes the need grow even more.

"Alright, alright," he says between laughs. "You can cum..."

And then, it's you that holds him down, your muscles tighten and Constantine let's you take him for the first time tonight however you want. You get the power right now, you've earned it after what he's put you through, and he freely let's you fuck him and use his cock however you need. And you do, and you feel yourself spilling, spilling, spilling...

You release on him, and he tells praises you as you do, your walls tightening and bringing him to his own release. You feel his cum, hot and sticky, filling you up more and more with every stroke.

"God, you're so pretty when you take what you want. What a pretty little puppy you are..." He breathes, keeping up with an endless amount of praise that you so desperately needed as you finish, coming down slowly from everything and finally resting, exhausted on his chest, cock still inside you, twitching.

You two say nothing for a long time, laying just like that, and to your surprise, sleep gets the better of you, and you find Constantine's arms wrapping around you to keep you from falling off his chest, and cock. You drift off to the most peaceful, dreamless sleep, you've had since starting this job. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did enjoy this more than you thought, but you'd never let him know that.

Taglist: @worldsgreatestsinner @discoscoob @nwheregirl @slutforsoldierboy @sughcashsaiki @sebastianstanisahotmf @iovesia @brooxie3

Ask to be taken off anytime, be added to the tag list here!

#john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #constantine fanfic #constantine 2005 #my writing

309 notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 8 months

Text

for the crown (02/03)

and then suddenly i cared even less, too broken to stay.

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you gave yourself to him, you love him, he said that despite your low status at court, he will still marry you, because you are his, the woman who was his friend since childhood, until the war comes.

word count: 8.6k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

and here I am again, realizing that I can't anticipate that it will be two parts only, because if I leave it at two, the chapter will be extremely long, so there will be part 3 haha. thank you for reading, enjoy!🥰

warnings: sex content, angst, denigration, abusive behavior, possessiveness, infidelity, betrayal.

If Aemond thought he would have a perfect escape with you after he decided to take you with him to Harrenhal as well, he was wrong.

With only a few dresses, a few pairs of shoes and your night gown, you emerge from your chamber holding Aemond's hand, both of you having a firm grip on each other, ready to march to DragonPit and eventually fly to Harrenhal.

With the entire Prince Regent's army ready to listen to Sr. Criston Cole's command upon seeing Aemond's signal in the skies, your prince is interrupted in the middle of his action as he is basically stealing you away by his mother, his grandsire and also your father right at the gates to leave the Keep.

Your father watches you completely surprised, ready and willing to leave with the prince, while the Queen Dowager and Otto Hightower watch Aemond completely confused and alert.

Also both watching you basically not understanding anything.

"Aemond, what is the meaning of this?"

"What are you doing?"

His mother and grandsire instantly inquire, clearly disapproving of this madness, but Aemond couldn't care less, watching the three of them indifferently.

While you start to worry and basically hide behind him, not letting go of his hand.

"Y/N?"

Your father calls you softly, confused and uncomprehending, looking for your gaze.

But when you look back at him, he knows you've already made your choice, so he begins to get more alert and seriously worried.

"What are you doing?"

But you don't answer him, you can't.

Sorrowful, you seek more reassurance and support from Aemond, basically leaning closer to him, holding his hand a little tighter, revealing your nerves and your fear at having been discovered.

This Aemond notices instantly and stands in front of you with a determined and firm stance without letting go of your hand, facing this alone knowing that none of the three of them stand a chance against him.

"Y/N, come, please," your father pleads as he sees worried the prince's behavior, raising one of his hands in your direction.

"She will do no such thing, my Lord."

Aemond finally speaks, drawing the attention of the three of them as well as yours, watching him over his shoulder,

"Lady Y/N will come with me to Harrenhal. In fact we must leave now and this is not up for discussion," he makes it clear almost threateningly.

Your father immediately exchanges glances with the Queen, more than concerned and demanding that something be done about it, but the Queen Dowager also continues to stare at her son completely confused and as if she does not recognize him.

"Aemond, you can't do this," she tells him gently wanting to talk some sense into him.

"Have you forgotten about your betrothed? Lady Baratheon?" his grandsire inquires him seriously, "Her father is fully supporting you in this because of that betrothal. And when Lord Borros finds out you are enjoying the company of another woman he will not be very pleased and will call off his men."

"And that won't be very wise of him," he says completely disinterested, "It would be unwise for Lord Borros to no longer give me his support if he doesn't want all of Storm's End to burn."

"That's not how things work, Aemond," his mother tells him worriedly, watching him intently.

"I think that's exactly how things work, mother," he tells her in a more serious tone, "After all, I'm not breaking off the betrothal and eventually I'll have to marry his daughter or not?"

This immediately gets your attention, but right after Aemond says those words, he lightly squeezes your hand with his, as a signal.

He has told you that when the war is over, he will marry you and that he promised you. He's not meaning all this now, it's just a way for the two of you to finally leave.

"Aemond, you still can't do this, you're betrothed," she insists.

"And what about Lady Y/N?" his grandsire points out to him, "According to the news, she is also betrothed."

"I don't care. She's coming with me whether you like it or not," he says as a final word.

"My prince…"

Hour father quickly steps forward to speak, worried and almost anguished.

"I beg you not to do this, you cannot take her away, please," he begs, "Lord Hand is right, she is also betrothed. If you take her now her betrothed will not be pleased and will put her maidenhead in question. Because of this my daughter will probably not be able to find a good husband in the future."

His words and behavior makes you feel sorry for your father, as he is right. Basically Aemond will ruin you for all men by taking you away, that action already speaking for itself, as the two of you share a more intimate relationship.

What your father and his family don't know is that he has basically already ruined you by claiming your maidenhead. But of course neither Aemond nor you will say it out loud.

"Don't worry, my Lord," he tells him still disinterested, "I'm sure by the end of all this, you and I will come to a generous agreement for my indiscretion."

Still, this does not reassure your father at all.

"B-but, please my prince, you c-can't…" he begins to speak nervously, looking at you pleadingly, "You can't take her away, please. I have already come to an agreement with her betrothed, they'll be waiting for her to discuss the wedding, please—

"I've told you not to worry, Lord Y/L/N," Aemond tells him again seriously and annoyed.

"But…

"You dare to question your prince's order?"

Aemond inquires him instantly, watching him serious, threatening and expectant, while your father purses his lips into a thin line as Aemond continues to threaten him with his gaze, then looks at his mother and grandsire in the same manner.

"You are also against my own word?"

"Aemond, please," his mother pleads with him as well.

"Don't be a fool, Aemond. Enough of this nonsense," his grandsire tells him seriously, "You are making a big mistake that will cost you the battle if you lose soldiers."

"That will be my problem, not yours," he tells her in the same manner as he does, ready to resume his journey again, "Besides we are not going to lose anything and I advise you not to question me anymore, any of the three of you," he warns them.

These are the final words of Prince Aemond, the Prince Regent, the one who currently holds the crown and carries the weight of the entire Realm on his shoulders, with his other hand he takes your waist and begins to lead the two of you on your way out of the Keep.

The only thing you can feel at that moment as you walk away is the worried and anguished look on your father's face, while you feel sorry for him.

However, you don't want to marry this Lord Beesbury, you don't even know him and you know that your father blindly gave your hand in marriage.

But what you didn't expect is that you would have to walk away from your father, leaving him alone, when it has always been the two of you against the world, which is what really weighs on you and grieves you as you continue to walk away from him with no idea when you will see him again.

You also feel the stares of the Queen Dowager Alicent and Lord Otto on both of you, who probably don't even have any idea how to react to this, not even being in a position to do anything about it.

But Aemond doesn't even care about them and steadily and willingly continues his pace with you by his side, him leading you towards one of the horses that will take you both fast towards DragonPit.

Soon you both find yourselves flying towards Harrenhal, with Sr. Criston leading Aemond's entire army on the ground towards the cursed castle as well.

However… had you known what would await you later in that very place, a cursed castle where its curse never leaves and curses also the people who dare to set foot there, you would never have let Aemond take you with him.

Still, when your prince takes you with him to Harrenhal, you feel important.

You feel you are one of his complements to go on and win the war, like an incentive to gain motivation and strength.

At first, the black and dark castle scares you, knowing perfectly well its reputation and curse, but Aemond is the one who motivates you to stand by his side and help him in everything he needs.

He specifically asks you to settle in his chamber, where it will also be your room, while he once he takes over the castle, begins to plan strategies and move his entire army, alert to any threat and securing his position in Harrenhal.

You know very little about his planning because you know that his matters must be of no interest to you, so during the day, you can only find entertainment in books and learning a little more about the dark castle.

The only thing you attend to is your prince, waiting each night at the end of his exhausting days, as you can't really do much in these circumstances, only being available to him.

This fact does not bother you, but your boredom increases every day considering that you only see Aemond in the nights and very early the next day he is no longer by your side because he goes to attend to his duties.

In your loneliness, you often think about writing a letter to your father, just to let him know that you are well.

But you know that Aemond probably wouldn't be too pleased and you don't know if your father wants to hear from you after what happened.

You wouldn't be surprised if he was furious with you… after all, what you did was very unwise.

You could have stood firm with Aemond, you could have supported your father and attended to your duty properly, yet you did not.

And in the end the only thing that gives you comfort is that at least, by the end of these difficult times, you will finally marry Aemond. And by the time your father sees that, he will probably forgive you.

Today is another one of those days when Aemond has a lot on his mind, taking his position very seriously and getting frustrated when one thing doesn't turn out the way he expected.

It's a lot to handle even though he has Sr. Criston by his side, but that doesn't seem to be enough.

He constantly sends reports to Kings Landing with his position and what is currently happening, understanding that even though Aegon is injured, still his brother wants to be aware of everything, considering he is not at the Keep to protect them in case of anything.

There are countless times when Aemond does not rest properly as he has so much to think and do. And when he finally heads to his chamber almost at the Hour of the Wolf, you help him to get all that stress out of his system.

Aemond lets out a sigh as he lets his head fit all the way back, with his eye closed, as you begin to slowly move up and down his entire hard, heavy, swollen length, in need of release.

You moan and place your hands on his bare, firm chest for support, beginning to move your hips up and down in a more consistent pace, moving back and forth and even circling at times.

Aemond at all times lets you take control, which normally it is not usual for you to do as he prefers it to be him in charge, however this is another one of those nights where he is too tired not to let you ride him.

You groan and begin to move your hips faster and harder, as Aemond moans low and holds your waist firmly, watching as your bodies come together and as all of him repeatedly enters you.

You watch him in complete delight, his beautiful face contracted in pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips parted, sighing and leaving marks on your skin with his long fingers.

You smile and lean fully into him, still moving, as you bring one of your hands to his hair, stroking it gently, and then bring your lips to his ear.

"Do you like it, my King?"

This only fills Aemond more with pleasure, who grunts and makes you increase the speed of your movements, as you moan loudly and feel him deliciously also ground on his feet and penetrate you harder.

The sound of skin on skin, your juices with his sweat and now Aemond claiming one of your breasts as he takes the nipple into his mouth, only makes you moan more in pleasure.

"Oh yes, my King. Just like that, please."

You whine, moaning and leaning further into him.

"Oh fuck—yes," he murmurs into your breasts, kneading them completely to his liking, "Yes, my Lady. Oh Gods."

You sigh and moan louder when Aemond suddenly takes all your hair in one of his hands, making it into a fist, to forcefully pull you down as he raises his hips in a firm upward motion, penetrating you hard and hitting exactly your nerve core.

All the air escapes your lungs and that explosion inside you begins to grow as Aemond penetrates you in that steadier way, not letting go of your hair, holding you tight.

"Are you going to cum?" he asks you in a deep husky voice.

"Yes," you moan, "Oh—fuck," you whimper.

"Cum, cum all on my cock, my sweet girl."

Then you are no longer thinking straight and become completely absorbed in the moment as he brings one of his hands between your bodies and begins to stroke his thumb over your most sensitive spot, causing you to close your eyes tightly, arch your back and continue to move with more fervor.

"Yes, yes, just like that," you moan, "Please, don't stop."

"Look at you," he grins, "Making a mess."

"Please, my King."

He grunts and increases his speed more as he again begins to suck on one of your nipples and then everything about you explodes in a delicious and more than satisfied way as Aemond fucks you hard across your peak, seeking his own release.

And by the end of the night, with one hard, strong, final thrust, he spills all of his seed inside you, filling you completely.

You let yourself fall completely on top of him, just as exhausted and breathing fast, catching your breath, as Aemond continues all soft and warm inside you.

You relax your lips and lazily raise your gaze to him, while still remaining on top of his hard, strong body, to see him also catching his breath, calming his heart rate and looking so tired.

You leave a soft kiss on his lips and move off on top of him to lie down next to him.

As every night, Aemond pulls your body to him and hugs your back as the two of you begin to be carried away by sleep, both of you more than satisfied, especially him after so much pressure and stress.

This is the way you can help him and be there for him. Honestly you don't complain, because as each time Aemond takes you, everything becomes more and more intense, already being more of a necessity.

Even during the day, one of his guards seeks you out and lets you know that the prince has requested your presence immediately in the room where Aemond plans his strategies and has meetings with all his advisors.

Arriving there, you expected anything but Aemond needing to fuck you right there in his chair and where it is a public place, even though only he and you is here.

"Try not to make too much noise, my love."

That's all he says to you and then makes you start riding him again, while you hold on and lean on his shoulders, moaning into his neck, while he listens to the sounds you make only for him and continues to demand that you move faster, harder and deeper.

You let your whole head fall back, closing your eyes in pleasure and you part your lips, as Aemond attacks and leaves marks all over your neck, grunting and holding you as if his life depended on it.

You move deep from front to back and he moans into your neck.

"Oh fuck—just like that, don't stop," he tells you hoarsely.

You gasp and muffle your moans as he desperately makes your breasts spring free through the collar of your dress and attacks them like a hungry man, as he brings both hands to the soft skin of your ass, kneading both your cheeks.

You cry out from the pleasure and continue to move deep from front to back.

"Yes, Aemond, yes," you moan.

"Always so responsive," he murmurs with delight.

He gazes proudly at your hard nipples, slightly red and swollen from his caresses, as he brings his hand to your center and strokes you with his thumb firmly, feeling all your juices sliding down his fingers.

"You like it, don't you?" he watches you with a grin, "You like it when I fuck you hard."

"Yes," you say as best you can, in a whisper.

He grunts and stops your movements abruptly to suddenly charge you and rise from his chair, as he sits you on the edge of the big table in front of him where the maps perch and begins to penetrate you faster and harder.

That time you had to drink moon tea again, considering that the dragon seed is strong and Aemond insists that always after every act, you must drink it, not even being able to let yourself forget it.

So the days go by when the unexpected news arrives about the battle of Lakeshore, where Aemond loses numerous men, all from the Lannister army, where they were attacked by a Northern army, being a major loss for the Greens and a victorious battle for the Blacks.

Aemond, furious, orders the death of Simon Strong and his entire family, as well as nearly killing the soldier who told him the news, blinded by his own anger and madness.

While you confined to your room, you can only wait for him to return to you when he has taken care of the whole matter, but with that great loss, Aemond and everyone begins to realize that they are losing the war.

If before Aemond didn't sleep and rest properly, with this news he doesn't anymore, to which you can only continue to wait, worried about him but unable to truly do anything, spending days in which you don't see Aemond anymore.

Until one night, the unexpected news arrives, but this time only for you.

"Where is Prince Aemond, Ellya?" you ask the maid who has been at your disposal since you arrived here, "Have you seen him? Do you know what he is doing with his men?"

She gives you a somewhat wary and curious look at the same time.

"You haven't heard, my Lady?"

This immediately catches your attention and you watch her completely attentively.

"About what?"

She blinks a couple of times, watching you a little surprised, to which this draws your attention more and alerts you, watching her intrigued, while she looks hesitant for a few moments, not quite sure if she is the one to tell you the new news.

"Ellya, what's wrong?" you urge her, beginning to worry.

She swallows hard, lets out a long breath and looks at you with some pity.

"The prince has approached the witch, the witch of Harrenhal," she lets you know, "For days now it seems the two of them started having their meetings."

You watch her more than attentively and confused at the same time, having no idea who this witch is, but instantly getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. You ask Ellya to explain who she is and she tells you everything.

Alys Rivers.

That's her name and apparently she's a bastard of Lyonel Strong, the once lord of Harrenhal who burned to death along with his son right here in this castle.

When you then remember… she is that same woman that Aemond did not give the order to kill and apparently spared her life when he killed Simon Strong and all his kin.

Instantly your assumptions are correct when Ellya tells you that this woman possesses dark magic and those kinds of abilities through witchcraft. And again you don't get that good feeling if Aemond has searched for her and is apparently having meetings with her.

Certainly after knowing this, you can't ask Aemond anything about it since you don't see him and don't dare go looking for him with all the duties he has to attend to.

However, the uncertainty lingers and all the time you think about it, feeling worried just imagining Aemond having encounters with her and also scared about what she might do.

Until one night finally the opportunity presents itself when you see the night through the small windows in comparison to the Keep, unable to fall asleep, when the doors open and you turn to see Aemond enter the chamber after so many days.

"Aemond?"

You call out to him in your soft, sleepy voice from trying to fall asleep but you simply can't, thinking all the while of him and her, the witch, as he watches you without at all expecting to hear your voice.

And even though you shouldn't, at that moment you feel sorry for him. You can tell he hasn't slept well in days, his whole face shows it to you, the extreme tiredness reflecting through his body as well, truly worrying you.

And that's why he actually watches you without having any expression on his face, leaving his sword on one of the tables and starting to take off his belts, preparing to sleep.

"Keep sleeping. I'll join you in a moment," he tells you just the same without much emotion in his voice.

"Where have you been?" you still ask him, carving your eyes, watching him closely, "I haven't seen you in days."

He lets out a long breath, turning his back on you and continuing to remove his clothes.

"Are you forgetting that we are at war?" he asks, "What do you mean, where have I been? Of course I have been leading all my men and attending to my duties as Protector of the Realm."

You press your lips together, instantly understanding that you must not upset and irritate him any more than he clearly already is. Still, like the stubborn one you are, you can't help yourself and again speak in his direction.

"I know, Aemond," you say softly, "But that's not what I meant. I meant that you didn't come here to sleep."

"I barely have time to sleep, Y/N," he tells you definitely more serious, alerting you, "And now that I finally have the chance, you're not letting me have my five minutes of peace," he tells you bitterly.

"No, Aemond, I swear that's not my intention," you instantly clarify, concerned.

"Then?" he looks over his shoulder at you, serious and clearly irritated, "You're going to let me be able to undress and sleep in peace?"

"Yes, of course," you tell him instantly, bewildered, "I-I just wanted…" you bite your lips, nervous, "…to know where you'd been," you mumble barely audibly.

And even though Aemond has heard you, he still doesn't say anything else, still taking off his clothes and with every movement feeling more tiredness all over his body, urgently needing to lie down on the bed and sleep as much as he can.

But you continue to watch him more attentively than before, Alys Rivers not leaving your thoughts and what he has talked or has been doing with her, that precisely not leaving you alone.

So in the middle of the silence, you dare to ask him in a soft murmur, watching him carefully.

"You were with Alys Rivers?"

Then suddenly Aemond stops his movements abruptly, slowly turning his head towards your direction, but only a part of it, barely managing to watch you over his shoulder, the tension in his whole body being more than visible.

When without further ado he resumes his movements, saying absolutely nothing to you and turning his back to you, while you continue to watch him attentively and expectantly for his response, whatever it may be.

And it is not until Aemond finishes processing your question that he finally answers you or rather answers you with another question in a serious and cold voice.

"Who told you that?"

You swallow hard, truly not wanting to give Ellya away.

"I heard it."

"From who? Where?"

He demands to know, more serious and annoyed, turning fully towards you. That's when you see his dark face, clearly annoyed, you stare at him bewildered, really not understanding his behavior.

"What's wrong? Why didn't you want me to know?"

At this he continues to stare at you annoyed, his lips pressed into a thin line and clearly irritated by your questioning, while you, starting to feel fearful, still continue to stare at him with your whole face soft but in confusion.

Aemond lets a few seconds pass, when he averts his gaze from yours for a moment as he licks his lips and finally lets out a long breath to turn his back on you again.

He reassures himself, having already taken into account from before that it would be impossible for you not to hear the name of the witch of Harrenhal and also how he would find himself in her company at times.

However, in a way I had hoped that you wouldn't find out and wouldn't question anything about it.

But with everything going on, him losing the war and resorting to desperate measures, there is basically no such thing as his patience and good humor.

"She's helping me with some war matters, nothing else."

He tells you coldly as you watch him and listen completely attentively, not understanding his answer.

"War matters?" you repeat.

"Yes, war matters," he repeats back to you as well, serious.

"And it's not something I can help you with?" you ask him without understanding.

He lets out a long sigh again this time, his patience again beginning to hang by a thread.

"No Y/N, you don't know all of Riverlands and the most convenient spots where I can send and command my men," he tells you serious, "Nor do you know the secret paths and where they might attack us by surprise, but she does."

At this you remain completely silent, watching him with your lips parted, thinking about his words.

This really continues to give you a very bad feeling, frustrating you because even though he has explained, you still don't feel convinced and can't do anything about it, not wanting to bother him anymore.

But it strikes you how he has been annoyed that you have asked him about her, that you have talked about her, so bringing up the matter again would not be smart on your part.

Still, you can't stay quiet.

"Nothing else?"

"Yes, nothing else," he tells you quickly and still in his serious tone.

You don't say anything else, watching him attentively, while he remains completely naked in front of you, as he usually likes to sleep. And still not feeling convinced, you decide not to bother him anymore and return to your same position as before to be lucky enough to sleep this time.

But you can't.

You continue watching the void, when you feel Aemond's weight sinking on the bed next to you, while you turn your back to him and think about his words, also about the witch and the two of them.

You press your lips together and finally close your eyes, needing to sleep to stop thinking.

However, this one night Aemond doesn't even come close towards you. Normally he always wraps one of his arms around your body and pulls you close to his body to sleep close, but nothing, he doesn't do anything.

And the next morning you wake up, he is gone.

Your days again pass without seeing Aemond, always being in your chamber and barely getting any news about what is going on with your prince and his side of the war.

At least you find comfort in your maidservants, with whom you talk and give you some company.

You also wander around the castle only a little during the day, not lasting long for fear that Aemond might find out and get annoyed with you not having any guards with you. But considering you don't have much to do, this comforts you as well.

When one day, the whispers in the cursed castle become too loud and rumors reach your ears: your prince is sharing a bed with the witch of Harrenhal.

This shocking and devastating news you don't want to believe, thinking that it is simply impossible because Aemond is yours, just as you are his. Or so you thought.

But even though you try to convince yourself that Aemond wouldn't do such a thing to you, betray you with another woman, let alone a witch, sadly it all starts to make sense to you.

He hadn't gone to sleep in his chamber, you also chambered, basically you didn't see him at all. And even though he told you he barely has time to sleep, he still must have… but not in the room you both share.

You really don't want to believe it, especially since he told you himself that she's only been helping him with war matters, nothing else.

But you knew all along that he wasn't being honest with you, you had that intuition and these rumors just confirmed it.

It is not until you see Aemond again after severe days without him being in your presence that you can finally confront him about it.

"You lied to me, didn't you?"

You ask him with your soft tone but sad at the same time, disappointed, with tears wanting to start coming out of your eyes when he watches you and he doesn't even need to ask you what you mean, because he instantly knows.

But it hurts you more when he lets out a long breath, it being another one of those times where you both barely see each other and he's already upset and annoyed by your behavior.

"See? This is why I didn't tell you, because of how you react," he tells you serious and watching you badly, tired.

"So you were planning to never tell me?" you ask sadly.

"You don't understand Y/N. You don't understand anything."

You look at him hurt.

"And how am I supposed to understand if you don't talk to me?" you ask confused, "Is this why you decided to bring me here with you? For me to stand here waiting for you while you enjoy the company of another woman?"

He lets out a huff as he rolls his eye in annoyance.

"You're getting it all wrong," he tells you serious, "I'm not doing it for my own satisfaction, I'm doing it because it's necessary and in order to win the war."

You continue watching him confused, not understanding what he is referring to or rather not understanding what that has to do with lying with her, to which Aemond, frustrated, explains to you in order to end this matter once and for all.

"Alys… she can see things, she knows things" he tells you, "Her power helps me to know what will happen next and what exactly I must do against the threats, what strategies to plan in order not to lose more of my men and thus win the war."

"And for that you must sleep with her?" you ask in pain.

"Getting that kind of information is not easy, Y/N," he tells you absurdly, "Of course she must have asked me for something in return and that is her form of payment."

You deny with your head, still watching him confused.

"But you don't necessarily have to pay her that way. You are the prince, she must obey you and in return for that… you can offer her gold or something else."

Crees que eso no fue lo mismo que yo pensé en ofrecerle?

"Do you think that wasn't the same thing I thought of offering her?" he inquires you annoyed, "Of course I did but she give me nothing."

And yet he decided to give her exactly what she wanted.

Your mind tells you, as you continue to watch him intently and pained, as he turns his back to you and you see him starting to take off his belts at the same time you feel that sharp pain in your chest, thinking about all the weeks he had been keeping this from you.

And when you asked him, he still lied to you.

"But…" you try to say, watching him sadly, "I'm sure you don't need her, Aemond."

He lets out a derisive, dry snort, shaking his head slightly, this hurting you instantly as well, but you continue to insist on changing his mind so that he doesn't have to do this… win the war through witchcraft.

"There are other ways that I know are more complicated and time consuming, but you can win and fairly, I know that," you observe him hopefully.

He laughs unfunnily, low and bitterly, as he turns to you again and looks at you as if you were a fool.

"How easy it is to talk when you're not the one serving the Realm and losing a war, isn't it?"

You watch him completely speechless, while he takes a couple of steps towards you watching you even in that way and completely upset and annoyed because you don't understand him.

You don't understand anything of what is happening and what he must be doing.

"What are you doing here besides warming my bed, hmm?"

He inquires you with a cruel tone, his words instantly being a dagger to your heart.

"Yes, it's true, I was the one who decided to bring you here with me and I made you a promise for the end of all this, didn't I?"

He asks you seriously and expectantly.

"But now the least you can do is to understand me and give me peace, whether you like what I have to do or not," he makes it clear in a threatening tone, "And what I must do now Y/N, for the good of the Realm and to secure my brother's Throne, is to keep Alys on my side because I need her and I need her very much."

This last is completely etched in your mind, watching it attentively, your lips half open and the first tear falling down your cheek, under the attentive and annoying gaze of Aemond, who in spite of this does not care and turns away to continue undressing.

Then the other tears run down both of your cheeks, feeling more intense that sharp pain in your chest, hurting you completely by his insensitivity and how even though you know he is sleeping with another woman, he still doesn't care about you.

When has Aemond ever needed you the way he has told you he needs her?

Never.

You thought that bringing you here with him was his way of telling you that he needs you, but now that you have to share him with another woman and he apparently doesn't care about your feelings, you think it was all a bad idea.

You swallow the tight lump in your throat and clear your tears as you avoid completely breaking down by being in the same place as him.

"Perhaps I should go back to King's Landing," you say amidst the silence and tense atmosphere, avoiding hearing yourself as broken as you really are, "Perhaps I should talk to my father, apologize and do my duty by getting married."

Again Aemond lets out an unfunny and completely incredulous laugh, again turning to watch you but with the difference that he is actually watching you slightly amused and expectantly at the same time.

"Don't tell me, Y/N."

He watches you intently.

"And who are you going to marry, hmm? Or rather who or who will want to marry you?"

He asks you still amused.

"Haven't you thought that I've already ruined you for any other man by the simple fact of having brought you here with me? Haven't you thought that with that alone people can assume an intimate relationship between the two of us? Although it's not really an assumption, it's a fact, isn't it? For a long time now."

Tears again steadily stream down your cheeks, watching him with all the pain in your gaze, as he again averts his gaze from yours and again shakes his head in disbelief.

And you know he's right.

But you don't think it's fair that he can get annoyed with you when you call the attention of other men, but you are in a much worse position, he doesn't care how you feel because he is the man, he is the prince and you must understand him.

So it doesn't matter that he can have as many women as he wants at his disposal, in any way, while you should be reserved only for him.

"Stop crying," he tells you cold and serious, without looking at you, "If you feel so bad for Alys, understand that this is just for the moment, it will all be over when I win the war, so stop this foolishness."

And there it is again… his insensitivity.

And after that… everything changes.

That night Aemond again doesn't try to touch you or hug you during his sleep, nor is it as if you would want him to, considering that he had probably been in her company before.

That is why now knowing that Aemond warms her bed, you no longer desire his touch or even his presence.

And not only because of that, but also because of the way he had made you feel with his cruel behavior and with his cruel words, and that painful feeling just won't go away, not even him realizing how much he did and does hurt you.

Fortunately you continue not seeing him very often, in all that time just locked in your chamber, not even having the courage to talk and enjoy the company of the maids as usual, wanting to be alone all the time, going back to your days of having no appetite and no mood for anything.

If Aemond notices, he doesn't say anything to you or do anything about it, just watches you intently every time he appears in the chamber, where you just greet him and nothing else, not really giving him attention like before, your whole gaze dull, empty, disinterested and sad.

You can smell a strong scent, like citrus and a bit sweet at the same time on his clothes sometimes when he comes to the chamber very late at night, certainly belonging to her and of course he must not even notice it.

And not only that, cautiously you can see some marks on his neck and chest as he begins to undress, to which you lie on the bed with your back to him and completely covering yourself with the sheets, letting a few tears fall without him seeing you and without making a sound until you fall asleep.

Now all you think of when you see him is him in the company of his witch, receiving everything she offers him, her visions and letting him know everything he wants to know, in exchange for sleeping with her.

It is not until days later that he slowly begins to approach you again to caress and touch you.

At first you didn't let him turn your back to him and he started to caress you by putting his arm across your stomach, trying to pull you closer to him.

But when you stayed completely still and with your eyes full of tears, he felt the tension all over your body and at the end he let out a long sigh and stopped touching you, resigning himself.

You didn't understand why he needed that from you when he certainly always gets that from her.

That went on for a few more weeks, until Aemond was beginning to lose patience with not being able to have you that he finally lost it completely.

And you had to give in to pleasing him, letting him make you his after a considerable time. However, he was no longer making you feel anything.

Just the thought that he had previously been inside her and now he's inside you looking like he can't get enough… it was too much.

Aemond doesn't notice your lack of disinterest as he begins to fuck you, nor does he notice how your heart breaks into pieces. And it's not until you stop being responsive to his touch that he's finally disconcerted.

Without feeling your juices that made penetration easier, he gasps and lifts his gaze to you, peeling his face from your neck, watching you intently and curiously, still entering you continuously.

"What is it, my lady? Doesn't it feel good?"

You don't answer.

You don't even look him in the eye.

At this, Aemond kisses you with need, moving in and out of you faster, needing your response, for you to feel the same as he does, as before.

But it doesn't feel good, not good at all.

After that night, unable to stand being cooped up in your chamber any longer for the whole day, you decide to go out into the hallways and eventually end up in the kitchens to offer your hands to the maids for whatever it is they need.

You can't even stand your loneliness anymore, so you finally enjoy the company of the maids and help out as needed, even taking your meals with them and even returning at night to the chamber, almost at the same time as Aemond.

Surprisingly, he notices this and questions you about doing maid duties as well, telling you that you have no need, to which you without much emotion tell him that it's all right, that you like to help, not to say anything else to him and clearly not to give more importance to the matter.

In those moments is when he starts to get tired of your behavior, when the truth is that even he doesn't understand himself.

Before it bothered him that you cared too much about him and that you questioned absolutely everything, but now that you have stopped doing it, it also bothers him your lack of interest in him when before you were always there at his disposal, also bothering him your cold behavior.

But it bothers him more that you don't even respond to him anymore when he makes you his.

However, he knows he can't blame you for her, for Alys, because you know what he is doing with her in the darkness of her chamber in exchange for what.

But it still bothers him.

Fortunately for you, he decides to give you time and not force you into anything again if you don't want him to, to which you could only feel relieved, although you still have to endure how he hugs you during his sleep but nothing more.

It is not until one night that you return to your chamber later than usual, since you lost track of time and were all the time in the company of the maids, that you think that Aemond must probably still be attending to his duties or that he must already be asleep… or that he must be in the company of his witch.

The latter is what you believe the most, not surprisingly. In the end, however, it does surprise you.

About to open the door to your room, you don't have to, as it opens on the other side and you find yourself face to face with a woman with pale skin, huge green eyes, long black hair and wearing a robe around her body, holding it with one of her hands.

Your eyes widen and you freeze completely, as she stares back at you with such intensity that it almost brings you to tears, but in the end it is not that, but the realization of what has happened here, in your chamber, which is in fact more yours than Aemond's.

You then watch behind her, where Aemond instantly watches you with an expression you can't really read, as he finishes buttoning his belt, with his entire torso naked and the clear marks on his neck.

Again… you feel that sharp pain in your chest, the sadness and humiliation hitting you hard, with your tears starting to want to spill out of your eyes and run down your cheeks, watching him with the most hurt look of all.

How could he dare?

You don't even expect anything else, you just run away from there, tears streaming down your cheeks instantly, as you hear Aemond say your name, quickly coming after you.

But you don't look back, not even wanting to look him in the eye, having no idea where you're really heading, but not in your greatest madness are you ever going to lie in that bed again, not even he having any respect for you in that regard.

Still Aemond is quicker and manages to catch up to you, grabbing you hard by your arm, demanding you to stop and watch him, pulling you closer to his body, to which you put up resistance and crying you try with all your might to get him to let go of you to get away from him, but he won't let you.

"Y/N! Look at me!"

You can't.

You don't want to.

He irritated, grabs you firmly with both hands, reluctantly stopping you, while you continue to cry and feel completely weak, everything about him, his grip on you when he had touched her on your bed before and that scent of hers also impregnated in him… it's too much.

"Let go of me."

You say pleadingly, sobbing, trying to pull away from him.

"Stop fucking acting like this!" he exclaims to you in annoyance.

You deny with your head.

"H-how could you?"

"Look at me," he demands.

"No! Let go of me!" you resist again, very hurt and very humiliated.

"I said look at me!"

He exclaims to you angrily, grabbing your face with both of his hands and making you look at him in a firm and demanding manner, his grip strong.

At this you stand completely still, but still crying and sobbing, trying to control yourself, but you cannot.

Thinking about it, about her and him already hurt you enough, but now having seen it… you can't stand it, as well as his touch now on you, finding it unpleasant.

And when you finally open your eyes and dare to look at him again, he is worried about noticing all that pain, rejection and displeasure.

However, he doesn't allow it and continues to hold you in that firm manner.

"Listen to me," he says seriously and firmly, "This was the last time, the last one."

You put up a resistance again, not believing his words at all, looking absurd in the midst of all your pain.

"Y/N!" he exclaims stopping you again, looking at you as honestly as possible, " It has been the last time, truly," he insists, "I promise."

You say nothing to him, just continue to cry almost silently, as he promises and assures you over and over again, wanting to reassure you, when the truth is you don't even believe him, so you make him believe that you do, to which he finally lets go of you.

"Go back to the chamber and wait there for me, she's gone," he tells you softly, but still firm and demanding.

And you are surprised how he dares in ordering you such a thing, while you just nod so you can finally get away from him and feeling relieved you do so, definitely not going back to that room, at all.

You find another empty chamber where you lie down on the bed right there and continue to let the tears flow freely from your eyes, trying to calm down little by little, feeling so lonely, so silly and as if you mean nothing.

It is not until after Aemond finishes talking to Alys and returns to the chamber expecting to find you there, but nothing.

He lets out a long breath, frustrated, only to later ask his guards where you've gone to find you in another chamber, completely balled up, asleep and with dried tears on your cheeks, your whole face suffering.

He lets out another long breath, running a hand through his face and hair, shuffling it in frustration, that he decides not to do anything else, just leave you alone to sleep, that being the least he can do for you after witnessing such a thing taking advantage of your absence.

Severe days has passed since that breaking point between you and Aemond, where neither of you have spoken about it.

He tried, of course, to explain to you so that he could properly ask for your forgiveness, but you never let him, not wanting or needing to hear anything from him, still too hurt and too humiliated to bear such thing.

Since then, you now sleep in that new chamber, this not being to Aemond's liking at first.

But acting so cold to him, not even being able to look him in the eye when he spoke to you and making you so tense in his presence, he understood that he could not force you to sleep with him if you did not wish to do so.

Aemond hated every moment when he did not wake up with you by his side, also when he could not touch you and make you his, or have the maids assist him in absolutely everything, when before it was only you.

If he kept his promise not to have any more meetings with Alys, you were no longer interested in knowing, only focusing on you and sometimes on him when he asked you for something, but always with that cold and indifferent behavior.

When the time of battle comes again.

He and his entire army prepares to march to a point where Alys had told him before that it would be where an army fighting for his half-sister would be and that is approaching Harrenhal.

Aemond awaits the return of Sr. Criston with a small but efficient army that he prepared for him by sending him and those men to the nearest house settlements of Harrenhal to demand that they bend the knee for his brother Aegon.

Once he returns with those men, they can finish preparing and stop that army of Rhaenyra's, having him more opportunity to protect his entire army from the skies and burn as much as he can.

You along with some maids provide food to the men who will go to battle, you also help with their supplies, walking back and forth under the watchful eye of Aemond being so helpful to his men, this not pleasing him but not being able to do anything about it either.

When an ambush happens.

Everything happens too fast, as suddenly a not very big army surrounds all of Aemond's surprisingly with black flags, symbol of Rhaenyra.

And then a man grabs you by force, takes you to the center of the whole ambush and then puts a dagger in your neck.

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

572 notes · View notes

aliveinacoffin · 10 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara fluff

A spider-reader has the fattest crush on Miguels fat ass.

And maybe he does too.

Have a crush on your ass, not his.

Also more than likely ooc but we both know if you're here you don't mind. (I'm so sorry)

___________________________________________

"I do not!" You huffed out, throwing your arms up.

"Oh come on, literally everyone here has noticed your thing for Miguel." Jess laughed, setting her hip on the table while she looked through her watch.

"Even if I do, he one hundred percent doesn't feel the same." You sighed, setting your feet down from the metal table. Your spider eyes wide and to the sky, your mask hid the deep frown you had.

Jess looked up to you, and even though she couldn't see your face, she could tell that you were upset. You didn't bounce back to your usual positivity and silliness, instead replaced by silence.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I'm just teasing you." She rubbed your shoulder affectionately.

"I know, thanks mom." You brushed her hand away, chuckling airily. Getting up you leaned over the table to oversee all the science-y papers that had accrued.

"On the tone of mom...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's so cute! Jess is really excited to have a baby. I just wished she hadn't told me her and her husband have been trying for awhile." You said.

"Good for her! I'll have to ask her more about it later." Sun spider, or Charlotte as you've come to know her, said. She already had been jotting everything down in her notebook for the Spider-Weekly, a weekly magazine made for the spiders in the verse, by the other spiders.

It wouldn't make front page, maybe somewhere in the drama section.

"Yeah, she's really excited to be a mom." You had your back turned, your attention focused solely on following the recipe to make more web. You didn't notice the door open to the private lab, or Sun-Spider panicking to do something 'important.'

"Whose excited to be a mother?" A deep voice growled out, commanding in the way the question was asked.

"Jess! Haven't you-" You turned around, the smirk you wore dropped when you saw him.

Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara, or Spiderman 2099 stood towering over you, serious face and a deadly look in his eyes.

He was always so deadpanned, Miguel always wanted spiders to focus on missions and missions only. He never liked gossip, and any time you came in to spill the tea, he did everything in his power to ignore you. Which is why recently you had to go to new avenues, like Sun-spider. It wasn't like she wasn't your friend, you two just weren't that close.

"Uhhh, Jeeeeess???" You winced out. You weren't really I'm the mood to get scolded at, especially not with company. But leaning over, you saw that Sun had abandoned you.

Miguel's eyebrows went up a fraction, such a fast and small movement that if you hadn't been staring at him you wouldn't have noticed.

"I wasn't aware of that." He simply stated, looking over to see what you were doing. He called out your name, quickly taking the vials you were holding.

"Hey! I was working on that." You leaned over to see what he was doing, encroaching on his personal space, his weird hologram suit fizzing gently against your felt one.

"Well, you were doing it wrong, mensa." Miguel said, annoyed. So annoyed that he had to help you doing such a simple task.

"Hey! I may be a no sabo kid, but I know what that means, pendejo." You huffed out, you watched him quickly mix together a variety of liquids and chemicals. Quickly transferring and stirring each step of the way.

"Of course you'd know all the curse words." His brown eyes met yours, a bored look on his face.

"I do not! I know like, simple shit. Yo comprendo un pocito tambíen, cara de caca." You cackled, turning around to hang up your lab coat.

You missed the way he hung his head and smiled, holding back a silent chuckle.

"¿Sí? Veo que eres bilingüe." Miguel straighted his hunched over form, looking to you over his shoulder.

You stared at him, slowly piecing together what he said. "Hey kiss my ass!" You threw a random manilla folder at him.

He caught it before anything could spill out, surprisingly fast for a man with no spidey senses.

"I'd rather not."

You rolled your eyes at his serious response, and came over back to the table. "Thanks! Though, could've totally done this myself." You shrugged, putting out an overconfident personality.

"Yeah, that's why it wasn't on the verge of exploding. How you managed that is beyond me." Miguel shook his head, rolling his eyes. Watching you refil your web slinger.

Silence filled the room while you completed the simple task, the air tense.

"You haven't come to me in a while. I thought you went AWOL." He said, simple words you were waiting for him to utter.

"W-well. I've been turning in my reports on time. Just as long and descriptive as always." You shrugged, not meeting his intense gaze.

"That's not what I meant."

He meant the fact that you hadn't come to his office to complain the the printer wasn't working, or that the morning was horrid as always, or the drama in the office.

The truth? You started to look forward to speaking to him, seeking it to quell the loneliness that was left after the butterflies. You started to avoid the feeling of your fave heating and the speed of your heart, knowing that the stoic man would literally never feel the same.

"I just-got...busy?" It was more of a question than a statement, unsure of your answer.

"How? You've done nothing but prance around as usual."

Okay, um wow, ick.

Just kidding, his ass was too fat to get the ice.

"Hey! I'm a busy spider person! I have many, spider things to do." You were waving your hands around. You turned on your heel, going to walk out before a strong hand literally covered your shoulder.

"Wait, did I....do something?" Miguels voice drastically changed, stern to soft in seconds. His eyes were searching yours too.

"I-no, it's just. I don't know man, I'm sorry." You admitted, eyes looking down while you played with your hands.

"If-if I did something, you should come to me to fix it, as your superior you should always report to me." Miguel said, sliding his hand off your shoulder, and his usual face of stoicism came sliding back on.

That as well, Miguel was technically your boss, the man you scouted you out and now that you work under.

"I know. That...this doesn't have to do with that."

"Then what-what is impending your work." He was stretching, you knew that, but you couldn't just tell him, hey I'm totally in love with you but I know you don't feel the same so that's why I'm avoiding you!

Things don't work that way.

"Nothing it's just...it's nothing really, it's fine." You turn back around, missing the way Miguel reached out to stop you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A ding made Miguel O'Hara look up from the feed he was watching. He turned behind him, looking at the new report that just came in. It was from you.

Miguel filed it away from later.

He had once complained to you how long they were, and how he didn't need to know every detail. You made a point after that to make them even longer and lengthier.

He would never, never admit it out loud, but he liked to read them just before bed. He loved your writing, how he could just step in and be there, like he was there with you, fighting alongside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miguel?" Your voice was unsure, timid. You couldn't see the platform he was usually brooding on, and you stepped out to try and find him.

Your face dropped to an annoyed when you saw him slowly descending from his throne.

"When are you gonna make that thing faster?" You called out.

"I do it so it so my work isn't disturbed further." Miguel said pointedly. You climbed up the platform when it got close enough, pushing away the floating screens from your face.

"I brought you lunch! I didn't see you at the cafeteria so..." You shook the box, and put it down on his desk.

The awkward silence hung on the air again, before you couldn't bear it, but the beating of your heart made you falter.

The sight of Miguels' handsome face and built body made your heart pound and stomach twist.

You mentally slapped your face before you took a deep breath in.

"So did you hear about plush spider-man and Toy Spiderman?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You should return to your universe." Miguel had waited until the two of settled in silence to say something. Usually, you ranted for awhile before you were called into a mission.

But this time, nothing pulled either of you away. And Miguel listened while you talked, it was mostly you anyway. At first when you started to bug the older man, you didn't know if he was listening or not, but you saw how his ears perked up and how he'd subtly remind you of details of stories that you'd told.

"Woowwww, you're kicking me out? I'm not that annoying, am I?' You looked up at him from where you were hanging, a fake hurt look coming to your face.

"You are, and you should leave." He didn't even look back to you, only reading some article or report.

"Miggyyyyy." You called out for him. He hated it when you used that nickname, but you loved watching him shake his head.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and watched what he was doing with your head on his shoulder. A massive shit eating grin decorated your face as he tensed and glared at you. You ignored your racing heart and hot face just to see the look on his.

He didn't push you off there, merely pausing for a moment before resuming his work. "You know I hate that nickname, it's annoying and unprofessional."

"Unprofessional? Because we're all a super serious business, a super legit business too." You laughed.

Miguel rolled his eyes, they constantly flick from your face to his work.

"Whatcha doiiinn." You rested your chin on his head, quickly getting bored.

"Working. Like you should be doing." He said, exasperated.

You made a fart sound, "Working is for nerds, me? I'm a cool guy." You walked away from him, getting ready to jump off the platform before you looked back at him. Shocked to see he was staring at you.

There was silence, again. Something so unusual for you two, for you.

"Yeah?" You asked, timid.

"Theres...." Miguel stood up, turning to you fully. "Lunch, tomorrow. Would you...like to go out for lunch tomorrow? There's a special going on at some place downtown, and I thought it'd be something that you'd enjoy."

You blinked owlisly at him, this was so...out of character for him. And he seemed apprehension, like every word he said was like pulling teeth. His fave seemed more red, his skin making it more apparent since he already had a reddish undertone.

"I-I'd love to! I mean," You cleared your throat, and stood up straight, putting on a serious persona, "Yeah sure its whatever." You snifged, wiping your nose to try and look cool.

Miguel gave you a blank stare, but unlitmatly rolling his eyes to let out a chuckle. The sight was something to behold, especially from your serious leader.

"I'll see you tomorrow! And I expect you to be wearing people clothes, since we'll be going out as people!" You laughed, jumping down and running from the platform.

Miguel just let out a fond sigh as he watched you leave. And he turned around to Lyla giving him a smug look.

He scowled, "I don't want a word from you."

She mimicked zipping her lips closed, smirking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#miguel o'hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #fanfiction #x reader #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse x reader #jessica drew #gn reader #across the spider verse spoilers #guys was that bad #my first time writing that man #god i want him so bad #hes so babygirl #not edited

679 notes · View notes

whydon-twego · 11 months

Text

Courtship

"I want to court you" Merlin, lying naked beside him, sighs heavily and turns to look at him. "We've been over this, Arthur" Arthur remains silent for a few seconds, his fists closed and his teeth biting his lower lip because Arthur does not want to blurt out on the matter, not this time. "If I could woo you openly the nobles would not be piling like lions on a carcass!" Merlin raises an eyebrow and looks at him with an amused air "Am I a carcass now?" "You know what I mean!" Merlin sighs. "Is it because of Lord Smith?" Arthur does not reply and that is an answer in itself. "Arthur, you know perfectly well that I have no interest in anyone else, in any way, ever. And you know perfectly well that since you made me Court Sorcerer I can say no to anyone I want. So Lord Smith, like all the other Lords before him, got a resounding no for an answer." Arthur now turns to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed in contrition. "But there would be no need for all this if only we could say publicly that we are together" Merlin is tired of this talk, he is tired of Arthur bringing it up at every opportunity, and he is tired of always having to be the one to say no. "You need a queen by your side, Arthur. You need someone who can run a kingdom and help you run it and that someone is not me, more importantly, you need someone to give you an heir, and that someone is certainly not me." Arthur jumps out of bed and Merlin misses his presence, misses the warmth radiating from Arthur's body, his smell.

"You've known this about me for as long as we've known each other, Merlin, I will only marry for love and, above all, I will not have a Favourite, a lover or whatever the hell you want to call them"

Arthur is angry, wandering around the room always in his nudity and seems to have no intention of dressing even for this (umpteenth) speech.

Merlin's heart breaks a little.

"Yes, I know."

Of course Merlin knows, of course he is more than aware.

At that, Arthur's sky-blue eyes rise and go to rest on Merlin and Merlin has never seen him so serious.

"So you… so you think I'm going to get out of that bed one day and wake up a changed man? You think I'm going to wake up one day and think 'well, I'm not in love with Merlin anymore, I can move on'?"

Merlin's throat went dry and his eyes wide.

"Don't you dare, Merlin. You can't make that face, you can't be surprised to hear me say I'm in love with you. What did you think this was all about, a little game?"

"Hearing you say it is still different, alright?"

Arthur raises his arms to the sky and shrugs at him, starting to walk back and forth across the room, Merlin gets up to sit on the bed.

"You've been sleeping in my bed for over a year, Merlin. It's been more than a year that I've made you Lord, it's been more than a year that I've been going on and on asking you to begin a courtship in the light of day. What did you think that meant? Was I supposed to say it out loud? Well, I'll say it out loud: I'm in love with you, Merlin. For over ten years now if memory serves and I don't think it will be such a passing thing, your continued refusal of a courtship will only lead to a King ruling alone, unbelievably unhappy and sad when he has what he desires just a few mere steps away."

Merlin has brought his knees up to his chest as self-defence, because his heart is hammering so hard that he is afraid it might burst out of his ribcage.

Arthur approaches and in a few strides he is back on the bed, next to Merlin who is looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Arthur…"

"In fact, you know what, Merlin? I am your king and I am an incredibly fed up king, I command you to accept my courtship!"

Merlin stares at him for a few moments, astonished, and then bursts out laughing.

"You know it never did any good to order me anything."

Arthur is lying beside him now, looking at him hopefully.

"I am ready to accept any responsibility for it"

Merlin leans down to kiss him because otherwise he might do something as stupid as cry.

"I love you, too" he whispers.

"I know, because apparently I'm not the dollop-head in this relationship."

Merlin throws a pillow at him.

Arthur gets up and goes to announce to the court that he is about to begin a courtship with his Court Sorcerer.

"Put your clothes on at least, before you go out!"

Arthur does not. Merlin is madly in love with this too.

#merthur #merthur prompt #merthur idea #merthur fanfic #merlin prompt #merlin fanfic #merlin idea #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #king arthur #king arthur pendragon #melrin bbc #bbc merlin #courtship #my writing

677 notes · View notes

moonlightshaiku · 9 months

Text

Oops!

Spock x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: second hand embarrassment, puke

Ao3: N/A

Notes:

I just like the idea of accidentally giving spock a vulcan kiss, okay????

Tag List:

You knew that Mccoy's response of "Well be more social, then," was a result of him being busy. Not paying attention. But, you'd taken it to heart.

Being alone in your room so often had tanked your mental health. Introverted or not, part of "self care" is letting out your thoughts and feelings.

You can't help but think that self care is too complicated. Hygiene in itself is a fifty point list.

The best plan you had was to introduce yourself to someone. That in itself is difficult. There are too many options and techniques.

It was hard when it was just humans—or at least, mainly humans—back on Earth. But in the Enterprise? With even more races and cultures? Squeezed in? Together?

You enter the lift, blandly speaking out your destination. It's only when you notice the shoes next to you, shining, that you realize you have a chance to just— do this. Get it over with.

The anxiety swells in your throat, and you can't help but think it's not worth it. It'll take so much effort, and if you don't say anything, they'll never know.

"Good morning!" You chirp, before you can put to much thought in. It's much more gruff than you meant. You realize, as you swallow, that this is the first time you've spoken today.

You almost wonder if they're going to reply, but then you see a hand.

It barely takes a second to connect the dots. A handshake! Easy.

In your excitement at the ease of this venture, you bring your right hand to meet their left—and—oh.

Wrong hand. Your hands are touching. Theirs is straight, yours across it. Your ring and little finger are touching the side of their hand, your thumb tucked over their's.

You glance up at them, you don't make eye contact.

Your first two fingers presses against their last.

His last. His last two fingers.

He's male.

"Oh sorry, wrong hand!"

A Vulcan male.

He's Spock.

"Oh shit."

You jerk your hand back.

"The crude wording is not needed, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Spocckkk." You draw out through your teeth, voice high pitched.

"Yes?"

The doors open, no one is there.

"I am. Fuck, I am sorry. It wasn't— fuck, sorry."

The door closes. The lift remains still.

"I didn't mean to—" you take a breath. "It wasn't my intention to—" you pause.

His eyebrows raise, your heart beats faster.

Can he report you for harassment over this? It was just a handshake— be pretty fucked up if he could.

It would be pretty fucked up if he couldn't, too. Damn.

He probably should report you.

He won't.

"Kiss you?"

The words feel like bile in your mouth.

Or are you about to puke?

"That's not a question. I did not mean to phrase that as a question." You attempt to repair quickly. "I did not want to kiss you."

Oh that sounds plan rude!

"Or, er— you know what I mean."

You blink at him. How long have you been talking?

"Are you done, Lieutenant-Commander?"

You stay quiet, and after a few moments, you realize that it's a genuine question.

"You can— you can call me Doctor. And yes. Sorry."

He nods. "Doctor. It was a mistake. It is of no consequence, and does not alter my opinion of you."

You nod, anxiety not fading. You do, however, remember to breathe.

"Can I make it up to you?" Is your timid reply. You find that Spocks eyebrows can reach impressive heights.

"I suppose so. However, I do not see a reason that 'making it up to me' is needed."

You let out a breathy chuckle after a long moment of silence, and it does good to ease the tightness in your chest.

"Okay." You breathe. "When... do you have time?"

Spock doesn't take any time to think. "Tonight would be sufficient."

You nod. "My quarters."

He nods.

"Okay, you'll probably have to add another bead, so it'll fit. Let me—" you shift closer to him, taking a look at the bracelet in his hand. "—look at it."

It's only slightly too small for him, now. He'd decided to use the small glass bead in an elaborate pattern of rust, royal blue and copper. You had used the large plastic beads, and jokingly put an S bead on the bracelet. Baby blue.

"I do not see the point in making bracelets, Doctor."

You laugh. He's been happily putting beads on a string. He'd taken around ten minutes just choosing colours.

"Only idea I could come up with, really. Part of human culture."

You lean over, shoulder bumping his. "Okay, that looks good. Can I check it?"

Spock's eyebrow twitches. "Yes. That is agreeable."

"Alrighty." You gently grab each end of his bracelet, and he sticks his hand out. You bring the bracelet up, cupping his wrist like a U.

"Huh." You huff, scooting forward. "Okay, yeah, that's good. Want me to tie it?"

You glance up, making eye contact with Spock. The green of his face makes your eyebrows crease, but his face stays impassive.

He nods.

You promptly begin tying the bracelet, tearing your gaze away from his.

Once you have it double knotted, you reach over to the table, retrieve the scissors, and grab his hand.

Once you've snipped the excess, you hide the knot under a bead.

"Doctor."

You hum. "Yes?"

When looking to Spock, you are met only by his unwavering stare and green cheeks. No words.

Your gaze travels down, your hand holding his.

"Oh fuck me."

"That does seem to be the message you are sending, Doctor."

#star trek spock #spock x reader #tos spock #aos spock #vulcan kiss

440 notes · View notes

mindless-spirallover · 1 year

Text

You don't know how long you've been here. A day, three, a week? The screens haven't shut off. There's so many spirals, so many screens, you're surrounded by them. At first they changed, flickering through different spirals. At least they finally stopped on an interesting one.

You didn't know that this was deliberate. We had stopped on one that had your full attention. One that would brainwash your silly little mind.

The sounds had started a little while ago. Time had lost meaning, so you couldn't recall exactly when. It was getting harder and harder to recall anything, to be honest. It was faint music, but you were always straining to hear the whispering playing in the background.

The walls open up, although you barely register it. You're completely focused on the pretty spiral, aren't you? Good job, that's exactly what we want. Out from the walls comes a toy. What kind doesn't matter, what matters is the sheer pleasure you start to feel. Your legs are being held open by the chair, and that toy is removing any resistance or thoughts other than a growing need to cum. Doesn't it feel good?

You finally start to hear the whispering as words as your head gets so wonderfully fuzzy, but less as conversation and more as orders you will obey. You're a toy. You're a sex doll. You exist to serve. You are dumb. You are a perfect sex slave. We are so proud of you. You love brainwashing. You respond to it so well.

We might let you cum if you finish the brainwashing introduction. How does that sound, dummy? You like that? We knew you would.

All you have to do is give up that last little bit of resistance. Those last few thoughts you think are memories. Your ability to think for yourself in general.

Good job. What a good brainless slut. Our perfect brainwashed toy.

You've been assigned a number. You don't know it, not consciously of course. It's not important to you. You will move when you're called by it, but there's barely anything left in that pretty little head of yours.

We're so close to finishing up the first stage. You can feel yourself getting close, can't you? You're going to go through these doors and we're going to make you one of our dolls officially. The last stage of your brainwashing is where we fill that empty head of yours with what we want. And you like that. Then we do whatever we want with you.

Say you belong to us. You belong to the HIVE Corporation.

Well done. You've completed stage one. The chair has released you now, so you can move towards the Dollhouse. Oh, you're waiting for that command.

Be a good toy and cum.

#hypnoslut #hypnosub #hypnosis #the HIVE Corporation

2K notes · View notes

prettyprettypaci2 · 5 months

Text

Squire - Part 1

"Her Majesty's squire must make no attempt to displace the collar."

Your fingers are tearing at the heavy strap of pink leather fastened to your neck when you're startled by the deep, masculine voice behind you. Despite the welts you've dug into your skin, the thick ring of material remains snug against your throat. The collar is so tight that you can feel the blood in your face pounding with every thump of your heart. Your breathing is slow and heavy, and you feel dizzy for want of air.

"I demand to be released!" You croak. Your body defies you with a coughing fit as you sacrifice precious oxygen for your outburst. You grab the post of the small bed in the chamber, struggling to regain control of your airflow and wheezing until your lips are coated with spittle. Mucus oozes from your nose, and you reflexively move to wipe the excretions on your sleeve. Instead, you paint your bare arm with the slimy drippings -- an unpleasant reminder that your clothes were stripped before the guards locked you in here.

"Her Majesty wishes to impress upon her new squire the totality -- and the finality -- of this arrangement," the low, posh voice replies. When you reassemble your composure, you turn your head to get a glimpse of your captor. The first thing you notice is his waistcoat: stitched with an exotic Persian motif, its polished onyx buttons gleam darkly against shimmering gold threads. His prominent cheekbones and clean-shaven face give him a sunken appearance, and make his shifting eyes appear as though they might leap from their sockets at any moment. He rests his long fingers on the silver handle of a thin black rod that taps the stone floor as he walks.

"There has been no arrangement!" You sputter, your eyes watering as you continue to tug at the suffocating collar. "I am the eldest child of the Duke of Berceau, with all the rights granted by age of majority. I have come in good faith to sue for peace, and your guards have behaved perfidiously!"

"Her Majesty's squire will refrain from using words with more than two syllables!" The man with the waistcoat barks. "Just because the squire is not yet padded does not mean its obligations to the Crown are forfeit. This level of tutoring is unseemly."

"What did you call me?" You cough, giving up on the collar and focusing your efforts on breathing. "I am no lady's squire, and I am no 'it!' My name is --"

"Unimportant!" The man with the waistcoast interrupts ferociously. "A squire has no personhood and no possessions within the walls of this palace; not even a name. Her Majesty will bestow a name on her pet if she sees fit to do so. Until then, it is 'squire.'"

The man approaches you, and you calculate your odds of success in a brawl. He stands a head taller; a bit gangly, but not unhealthy. Your debilitating collar and lack of clothing make you a vulnerable target for the thin black rod he twirls in his hand. You decide against violence, for now.

The man reaches out with his left hand and grabs your scarlet cheeks between his fingers and thumb. He squeezes your flesh so that your lips form a crude pout. A chill runs up your spine and you flinch as you're forced to stare deeply into the man's bulging eyes.

"Her Majesty prefers squires who are obedient, delicate, and beautiful. A squire at court should be joyful, silly, shameless, and dumb. It does not use long words. It giggles gaily at jokes it does not understand. It vanishes when unneeded and makes merry when commanded. All together, a squire must be Her Majesty's jester, servant, hound, and whore. Does it understand?"

Your labored breathing intensifies. It's clear this terrifying man expects an answer of you, though he speaks as if you're not even in the room. You manage a whimper of confused protest, which the man stifles by tightening his grip on your cheeks. The corners of your lips are now touching, your face scrunched up like that of a child imitating a fish. Unsatisfied by your silence, you feel your jaw bump painfully into your pink collar as he forcibly nods your head up and down in an indication of 'yes.'

"I am Blackwood, Minister of the Queen's Holdings," the man says, pulling his hand away abruptly. "I am responsible for Her Majesty's horses, pigs, cattle, and dogs. The health and training of Her Majesty's squires fall under my portfolio. The squire will also work closely with Madame Matilda, who sees to the palace servants."

Cattle and dogs?! You take a step back from Blackwood, and feel the glass of the cold window on your bare back. You had examined it earlier when you were first imprisoned in this chamber, but determined you would not survive the fall had you attempted to jump. You wonder if that would not have been the easier fate.

"There has been some grave mistake," you groan, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"There has been no mistake. Her Majesty's squire will dress itself and accompany me to see Madame Matilda. She will then see to the squire's diapering."

"Diapering?" You gawk, certain you've misunderstood. "What do you mean by this?"

You yelp in agony as you feel Blackwood's rod cut across your stomach. You double over and descend into another coughing fit, concerned that you might vomit from the pain and inability to breathe. A dark purple line begins to form on your abdomen where the stroke of the rod connected with your flesh.

"I will waste no more time," Blackwood says haughtily. "The squire will dress itself or it will walk the palace naked. It's clear that it has already gone too long without being padded."

You struggle to remain standing, using the stone wall for balance. "What is it I am meant to wear?"

Blackwood sighs as if the answer to the question were obvious. He walks over to the simple bed and stoops to open a drawer you hadn't noticed beneath the straw-filled mattress. He retrieves a folded garment and tosses it to you roughly, clearly pressed for time.

You unfurl the cloth, which feels luxurious and silky in your hands. You gasp as you behold what Blackwood has given you: a small, tight dress with short billowing sleeves, the same soft pink as your leather collar. It has an immodest feather skirt that flares from the waist, which would leave your legs and loins almost entirely exposed. You're not even sure that the frilly garment would fit you.

"This is entirely inappropriate!" You wince as Blackwood grips his rod again; less annoyed, perhaps, by your protest than by your offensive use of so many syllables. You make a supplicating gesture to indicate you intend to obey. Concentrating on your breathing, you pull the silky pink dress over your head and slide your arms through the loose sleeves. The wound from your beating stings as you pull the tight bodice into place on your torso. The starched feather skirt sticks out nearly two feet in all directions without the need for a petticoat. There is no mirror in this room, but you're sure you look ridiculous.

"Her Majesty's squire will be given stockings and shoes after it is fed and securely diapered," Blackwood says, as if reciting some dull speech from memory. "Understand that until such time as it has been trained and earned the Queen's favor, it is not to leave the Squirey. If it makes any attempt at escape or at removing its diaper, the punishment will be unforgiving." He clicks his rod against the stone floor, causing you to jump. You feel your stomach tying itself in knots with all this talk of diapers. You glance uneasily about the room, noticing for the first time that there is no chamber pot for relieving yourself. Surely that doesn't mean...

"The squire will walk in front of me as I direct it to Madame Matilda's squiring hall. Make haste, but do not outpace me."

The stone floor is freezing as you march barefoot through the corridors of the palace. You try to commit the twisting passages and stairwells to memory as Blackwood directs you, to get a better sense of your location in the vast estate. But you find yourself distracted by the feather skirt which rustles beneath you and squishes through narrow doors. You're sure you could not find your way back to the bed chamber if you tried.

At last, Blackwood produces a ring of keys and passes one of them through an iron lock on a heavy oak door. With a little effort, he pushes it open and you feel as though you've stepped into a completely different building. The windows are enormous, casting ample light on the elegant and colorful tapestries depicting scenes from classical myth. Your feet, aching and numb from the cold ground, find succor in the soft pink oriental carpet that has been laid from wall to wall. You hear the sound of running water, and a chattering of high-pitched voices. Blackwood looks visibly uncomfortable in this luxurious space.

"Madame?" He bellows, barely inching across the threshold.

The chattering falls silent, and a severe-looking woman with long red curls and a black gown emerges from an alcove.

"Minister!" She shouts, her green eyes flashing with ill temper. "Let us hope your management of the Queen's Dairy is more timely than that of Her Majesty's squire, or we'll all be drinking spoiled milk!"

Blackwood seems to visibly shrink in this woman's presence. "It is a stubborn one, Madame. And it has been educated. I fear Her Majesty will be most displeased."

You're not sure whether to feel proud or insulted.

"Trust me, Minister; within a season, Her Majesty's squire will have forgotten more of its tutoring than you ever had." The red-haired woman seems to size you up, as though inspecting a cut of meat for purchase. "Quite an unusual choice. Not unprecedented, but highly unusual."

You feel the urge to speak, but think better of it. Blackwood takes a step backward out of the carpeted hall. "I will leave you to your business, Madame. Please keep me informed of the squire's progress. Her Majesty hopes it will be trained for appearance at court within a matter of weeks."

"Bah!" The woman throws up her hands. "I could train a monkey to appear at court in a matter of weeks. I will have this one barking on command in five days. Out with you! I've much work to do."

Blackwood bows stiffly and taps his rod on the ground before slamming the heavy oak door. You're left shivering beneath the gaze of this overbearing woman.

"I am Madame Matilda; but an educated squire shall have already figured that out," the woman says. Every word out of her mouth feels like a dare to see what happens if you challenge her. "The Minister is bound by tradition never to address you directly as a person; and it is true, you are not a person. But within the Squirey, such niceties are impractical. I will address you directly when necessary. Do not mistake this for leniency."

You swallow hard, feeling the leather collar's unrelenting grip on your neck.

"It was a mistake to leave you collared without diapering you immediately. It gives squires a silly notion that they are a prisoner, and prisoners think only of escape."

You take a deep breath and test your luck with a question. "Am I not a prisoner, Madame?"

"Ha!" Madame Matilda laughs cruelly, grabbing your wrist and leading you deeper into the carpeted chamber. "A prisoner lives in a very little world, but lives for themselves all the same. You do not have a self to live for, squire. You are owned in your entirety by Her Majesty. The Queen owns how you walk, and crawl, and sit. She owns the words you use to speak and the thoughts that are in your head. And when you dine on her food and drink from her streams, she owns your nourishment, too. You will keep these gifts from Her Majesty in your diaper, gratefully, until such time as she permits you to discard them."

As you turn the corner into an alcove, you see a cadre of three young women in white robes standing around a high rectangular table. Leather straps dangling from each corner give it the ominous appearance of a torturing rack, but there is no winch. One of the women is holding an object in her hand: a white rectangle of padding. It appears to be overlaid with an odd material that glistens in the light. The strange diaper unfurls noisily in her hands, the shiny material crackling like a flame as she spreads the white cloth out on the table.

"Your time has come, young squire," Madame Matilda whispers in your ear, making your hair stand on the back of your neck. She tugs playfully on your pink leather collar, and your sudden dizziness makes the room spin. "From this moment, your only purpose in life is to be dainty, docile, diapered, and dumb. You are a pet, destined only to serve Her Majesty and to fill the soft padding forever clinging to your hips. Get up on the table, and embrace your new life. There is no turning back."

👑 Part 2 👑

#ab dl diaper #ab dl lifestyle #ab dl mommy #diaper pee #diaper sissy #diaper training #diaper bulge #diaper gal #diapered247

195 notes · View notes

yeyinde · 1 year

Note

okay wait now we need a second version where the reader does leave with ghost and he walks her home and he's all shitty about the drunk flirting and she's like "bruh it was just flirting, if you would make a move i wouldn't need to make you jealous" 😌

ask and you shall (eventually) receive~ 🖤

i hope you enjoy this!!

"What? He's been keekin' you all night." There is a divot between his brow. When he turns his head, the fairy lights behind make his stubble look darker. "Yer aff yer heid!" Soap’s Version

It's all words.

Thin, hollow: they're empty ones bereft of meaning. They roll over you—a gale rocking you from side to side until you're dizzy with that awful little thing that clings to your pericardium, refusing to relent.

Hope.

Yearning (in English this time, if only just for him).

It clots there, taking root until you're a little queasy. A little unwell. The alcohol, perhaps, or—

He sits by Laswell, head angled down to murmur low in her ear about things that shouldn't matter right now when everyone is alive, and safe, and back together. But of course they do. They always do.

You wonder if they ever rest. If they ever take a moment's reprieve from the endless death and carnage that bulldozes your life until it's in shambles. Until the only thing that remains is broken chunks that reek of smoke and petrol.

It feels impossible.

He hasn't looked up once, despite whatever nonsense Soap might be on about. Untouchable. A chasm.

Ghost is a shoreless island in the distance. Rocky and steep.

Sometimes, if you stand on the furthest point of the beach, you can almost see the land peeking out from under the sea. Hazy. Shrouded. It sits amid the crashing waves, out of reach from everyone.

Soap pulls you back in, a few clipped words shared back and forth, and everything else melts away. This is easy.

This, being: drunk on expensive scotch (thank you, Captain Price; and oh no, thank you, I don't don't want a cigar) as you share snapped banter in a small pub. Vacant, of course, save for the six of you, and the barkeep. A man who offers little more than a nod at you when you mutter about the washroom, and swats at Price when he comes for peanuts and pretzels.

It's easy to pretend, you think, that the honeycomb eyes, a bashful grin, and hands that feel like the sun are what you want.

Easy, and yet—

You wonder if he's had anything to drink.

(You wonder if he'd keep his gloves on while he held you—)

You snap something at Soap, something you hope is witty and charming, and maybe if you play your cards right, you won't end up alone in a foreign land tonight. That, maybe, he'll let you close your eyes, and pretend—

It's ground out, raked through coals. "Soldier."

He makes you dizzy. Makes you want, yearn, makes you—

It falls into nothing, until your head is full of him: blood hell, Christ—

Never said I wasn't.

It feels like more of a reprimand than anything else he'd tossed your way thus far. A warning, maybe. Don't get too close. You know what you're in for.

Don't make him into the fairytale he isn't.

"And you, soldier?"

You're drunk. Too drunk. Head gummy and full of sin.

"Should leave," you say, casting a glance toward the mosaic window. A cross hangs in the distance. An augury. "Maybe go to church."

"Aye, lass. Think someone ought to get you home. Lt?"

You pull the last swallows in your cup before Soap has the chance to take it away from you. Liquid courage, you think, wilting under a black stare. A looming, uncharted island in the distance.

"C'mon," he says, words a shade away from being a command. "Haven't got all night."

You don't point out that it's nearly three in the morning—devil's hour in the company of a ghost—and wisely hold your tongue when Soap leans down, whispering: you can spend the night with me, hen.

"We're leaving." A growl, now.

It jars you. His voice is unlike anything else you've ever heard: gravel and ash; gunfire booming in the distance. It sits low, like the words are dragged up from the depths of his chest, and sounds like smouldering embers.

Your hands shake around the glass. It knocks against the wooden counter when you set it down, a hair too hard. You're crumbling. Slipping into waters that have no bottom. Rough, frothing. The white foam clogs your throat, drenches in you until you're weighed down, and sinking fast.

In over your head. No way out. The island is too far away.

His eyes are sharper than you've ever seen them. A yawning abyss. You wonder if something would snap at the tips of your fingers if you got too close.

Soap brows sit arched on his forehead, mouth thinning into a small line. "Alright, bonnie?"

"Gonna go home," you smile, tired. Wobbly. "Gotta get some sleep. Maybe next time, though."

Ghost's stare has never felt so heavy.

You stumble out of the pub behind him, pointedly ignoring the glance Gaz sends in your direction—the phone in your pocket already buzzing with texts that will make you whimper in the morning (saw you with Lt, mate. What the fuck? I mean what the bloody fuck?). This is normal, you think. Everyday. Mundane. Saturated in the ordinary.

Except—

Sometimes, your life doesn't make any sense. How you can go from coldly planning a man's—mens—murder to walking down the wet streets of Glasgow, head full of your Lieutenant.

The church peaks in the distance. The light spills, bathes it in yellow. The tolling bells call you an idiot.

Your head drops, eyes skirting toward the indomitable man beside you. Idiot, indeed. You can't help yourself, though. He's a magnet. A beacon.

A current sweeping you out to sea.

He says nothing. Hands tucked into the pockets of his black jacket, hood pulled down low. Those haunting eyes roam the corners, surveying the alcoves: always ready, always on-guard.

It's a stifling thing, this silence. Oppressive. Crushing.

Your throat itches with the urge to shatter it, to break it down until there is nothing left of it. Where it can't echo inside your chest like the brutal burn of rejection, and doesn't make your mind reel, an endless spiral of why and how and—

What can you do differently to make it a reality?

No man is untouchable. Not really. There had to be others in his life. A man like Ghost—

It's just impossible, isn't it?

Does he go to a brothel when the urge wells? A pub? Does he have dalliances with other agents he'd met in the field? Ones with battle scars, the taste of gunfire on their breath, and firm hands on their rifle? Is there someone already waiting at home for him, tucked inside a place no one else can reach them? The only inhabitant on an island in the middle of the sea.

What is his type?

And how can it be you?

Queries. Questions. They burn through you.

What if you just went for it? Is that what he likes? Someone who looks him in the eye, and says take me, I'm yours.

You open your mouth to ask, but are stopped in your tracks by the stare fixed on you. Breath caught in your throat. Lungs bereft of air. You splinter.

"S—sir…?"

"What?" It's harsh when it's ground out of his teeth. A snap.

"Are you angry?"

His eyes slide down to you, lidded and heavy. "Negative."

You huff. "Lying to me, now?"

"I've been called many things, Rookie, but a liar isn't one of them."

The grit in his voice makes you tremble. Makes a heat spume inside of you, not unlike the scotch from earlier.

Or—

Maybe it is the scotch. Your head is a slurry; a mess. The world around is shrouded in a sheen, a gloss, that makes the lights smear, and the cobblestone below quake under your feet.

"Are you—" jealous feels too strange in conjunction with Ghost. To the man who, as close as he is beside you, has never felt further away. Stupid Soap and his stupid words.

"Am I what?"

You mull it over. Let the word sit between your incisors to gauge the fit of it. It doesn't quite fit when you roll it around. Doesn't belong together.

(Like him, you.)

You stifle it.

He makes a noise, impatience, perhaps, and the word leaks into their terse air between you before you snap your jowls shut.

"Jealous?"

His eyes slide to you again. The whites glow under the street lamps. "Jealous?"

You feel a little silly. A little stupid. You blame it on the scotch. On Soap, and his keekin' you—

But—

You feel the words pool on your tongue, but you can't stop them from trembling out.

"I could have went home with Soap—"

"Why didn't you?"

It stings. The rejection hurts something fierce, but it's swallowed down.

(In for a penny…)

"You pulled me away. I could have been fucking him right now, and instead I'm wandering around Glasgow—"

Tonight feels as good as any to get your heart wrecked. Loose lips sink ships, after all.

"You might be fucking him, pet," his voice is a snarl, a feathered growl. "But you'd be thinking of me."

It punches into you, and makes you gasp, aloud; the sound echoing over the wet brick surrounding you. Your feet stutter when it's ground out, left to rot in the air. You jerk your head up to look at him, eyes wide. Heart-hammering in your chest.

He stops, too, hands now hanging by his sides, curled into loose fists. His chin is tipped down, liquid eyes boring into you.

You—

You've never seen a sight more damning. One more ready-made for ruin.

He makes you feel a low grade fever burning in your veins. Stupid, intoxicated.

You don't know where to go from here. Thinking of me. He's right. Of course, he is. It feels like a fractured mess when it tugs on the corner of your lip, a slowly unease smile. Distance, you think. You're an island far away from hurt.

Rejection. The brutality of his words—they can't reach your shores.

"And you'd be at home, getting thought of but not fucked." It's shakier than you'd wanted it to be, words a slow tremble. Then, a whisper: "You wouldn't even know."

"I would." He takes a step, another. His stare never wavers. "Just like I knew the first time you touched your little cunt to the thought of me. Couldn't look me in the eye for a week, pet."

"That's—"

It's true. You remember the time—all of them—and the realisation that he knows (he knows, he knows, he knows) burns into you. A knot of discomfort pools in your core.

There is embarrassment, of course there is. Shame, too.

But you're too drunk, too blootered, to think straight. Too raw, and cracked. You're a vanishing island. Water lapping at your inlands.

More hollow, thin words: "why did you take me out?"

"I gave you the option," he corrects, his voice is flat. It carries at the end, and leaves no room for any argument or protests.

It's true, after all.

You drop your chin, hands shaking. It's a bludgeon to your gut.

(How can it be you—?)

Stupid.

The false bravado quivers under his stare. A step backward flattens your spine to the wall of some long-closed Tandoori shop. The bricks are still wet from the rainshower that fell earlier. The cold dampness bleeds into your flesh. Goosebumps prickle.

More liquid courage, you think, hands balling into quivering fists by your side.

You lift your head. In for a penny, right?

No island is truly unreachable. No man, either.

All of this— something —with Ghost is drawn together into this single moment. The distance. The uneasy feeling on the nape of your neck when he's behind you. The want. He's been keekin' you all night. You look over and catch his stare. Feel it on your skin like a brand.

(Ready-made, always.)

It all has to mean something. It has to.

"Is that why you stare at me?"

His eyes are embers. The glow from the streetlights make him look like smouldering ash. Demonic. It thrills you.

"No, pet."

He leans in close, his body a shadow over yours. A tower. You can't see anything except the fill of him spreading out around you. Black. Endlessly so. Your perpetual night. The embers spark, blazing, when he bores into you. A wildfire in the distance. Atavistic fear brims.

Stay away from the fire and the being that can hurt.

His hand presses into the concrete beside your head. There is nowhere to run.

"I stare at you because I keep thinkin' about those little fingers trying to fuck yourself silly, and how desperate you must be knowin' it isn't enough."

You shiver—a whole body chill that has your teeth chattering together at the punctured words that drip, tainted with your demise, from his mouth.

The air in your lungs is noxious. It spumes inside until your knees quake, threatening to drop down into that unfathomable abyss that gapes below. The yawning maw of a man who wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you until nothing remains. Rucked into the currents, it sends you careening out to sea until your fingers cling to the side of that untouchable island, begging for respite. Salvation.

It's a plea, a whimper: "you should have asked to take me home."

He offers none of it. His hand stretches out, and in the cup of his palm, he promises only ruin.

You shouldn't take it. Don't make him out to be the fairytale he isn't.

But the look he levels you with, ravenous hunger tucked inside the tenebrose of those spiralling depths, has you reaching out. A moth to a flame. The roar of the Styx in your head. You can't resist.

(You wouldn't even try.)

"I already am."

—Gaz regrets sending the text when he wakes up the next morning to a detailed commentary on all the ways his Lt absolutely ruined you

— he refuses to look either of you in the eye for weeks after

—this is completely irrelevant and feel free to roast me for it, but! my hc of a jealous!Ghost depends on where he's at in the relationship

—in the beginning: he doesn't trust, he does his job, and he's distant; but if he feels it, he'll close down. total distance. silence. he's mean about it, too. waspish. he'll try to push you away. cold hearted bastard to a T.

—but later?? oh, boy. that's when the Looming™️ starts. the, oh hey lemme go talk to that cutie over there - oh, wait. what the fuck that is that thing behind them and why does it look like it wants to eat me alive?! he's still mean, of course, but now he has a reason to snap. a reason to stand as close you as physically possible so everyone knows just who you belong to. and if he catches you flirting, i mean. rip, b. 🥹

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x you #requests #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #simon riley cod #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #lord its me again #they caught me simpin

2K notes · View notes

threadsun · 8 months

Text

Balloon Anon Asks: "Yooooo Sun do you have any ideas about how Elias and Taylor would operate as yanderes? I love love love their regular selves but I can't stop thinking about how hot yan Elias would be (and I love hearing you talk about your pathetic meow meow Taylor lmao) -Balloon anon"

Content: yandere content, manipulation, kidnapping, victim blaming, stealing, shrine, stalking

Elias:

The simple fact of the matter is that he's stronger than he lets on. And knows his own powers more than you think

He's had over a century to practice, after all. Do you really think you're the first human he's interacted with? No, you're simply the first one to catch his eye

You've only really seen the tip of the iceberg. Putting you to sleep, making the house appear more put together than it truly is, letting you see glimpses of his past... That's all simple. The first things he learned he could do, in fact. He's far more in control of them than he seems, and everything he does is tactical

Those visions? He wants you to see them. Wants you to know him, to pity him, to feel guilty for trying to manipulate him. He knows exactly what you're doing, and he'll play the unfortunate fool until he's got you right where he wants you

Marrying him may not be legally binding, but it's certainly magically binding. The moment you swear yourself to him, you cannot leave the house. Not unless he gives you permission, at least. You are bound to obey his every command, as his spouse

If you try to leave him without marrying him, you'll soon learn just how powerful he is. The house is at his beck and call, so the moment you try to leave, the doors and windows collapse into dangerous piles of rubble that you'd have to be insane to try to climb over

He'll continue to play innocent, to pretend his powers control him rather than the other way around. You can't blame him, can you? It's his emotions doing this, not him! If you hadn't rejected him so callously, perhaps this wouldn't have happened...

Taylor:

Taylor is, unsurprisingly, more of a pathetic little simp about his obsession with you

He has a collection of things from you. Not quite a shrine, but... well, okay it's a bit of a shrine. He keeps it all on a shelf the same way someone else might keep anime figurines

He keeps your used napkins, your empty cups, every scrap of paper you've written on during OHSIC meetings, every jacket you've forgotten in the club room. Every time he's been to your room, he's come back with a trophy. A pair of underwear, some socks, your pillow case... not that he'll let you see any of it

We already know he writes steamy fic about the two of you. What you don't know is that he's commissioned horny art of the two of you fucking. He pretends it's just two of his OCs, but it's pretty clear if you look at them that it's just you two

Part of the reason he's so insistent about the OHSIC continuing is that it takes up a lot of your time. Time that you could otherwise be using to party or hang out with other people. Taylor can't let that happen, he needs to know what you're doing at all times. And if you two are the only members, that's even better!

The more desperate he gets, the more danger he's willing to put you in if it means keeping you to himself. And the more he's willing to fake things like ghost sightings so that the club can keep going. He'll do anything to keep you by his side

He will stalk you on any date you try to go on, and he'll come up with some way to sabotage it if it seems like it's going too well. He tries to tell himself that he's doing it for your sake, that it's what's best for you

#the groom of gallagher mansion #elias gallagher #taylor potts #elias gallagher x reader #taylor potts x reader #18+ only #sunshine #balloon anon

280 notes · View notes

cosmichoneibeee · 8 months

Note

Hey, since requests are open, may I ask for hcs or something for Viper x female reader working together in the lab? Kind of strangers to a mutual secret crush? Thank you~ <3

Being Viper's laboratory colleague and secret crush

Words count: +/- 4.8k

A/N: Hi anon, maybe I got a little carried away on this topic. I love Viper so much and everything that involves her, I always end up losing a little bit of the notion of how much has already been done when I write to her. Also, ladies, take your eyes off her, she's my wife

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠

It wasn't meant to be like this, it wasn’t meant to happen

Viper doesn't usually hire new scientists to work with her, but she made an exception after seeing your resume

For you, just having the opportunity to work for Sabine Callas is like winning the jackpot

And for her, it's great to see at least one person as interested in what she does as you are - unlike other people she has to deal with on a daily basis, as she says

She started to really realize you existed when she realized how much you looked like herself when she was younger: eager and euphoric to make the world different

But that doesn't mean she'll go easy on you.

From day 1 you knew how strict she was with the work you were supposed to do, perfect wouldn't be near enough

You'd expect her to be short and to the point, but she seemed to nag you a little too much.

Expects you to work overtime virtually every day

You didn't like her from the beginning, despite her being an extremely beautiful and intelligent woman

It's not hard to imagine that you almost regretted applying for this job after all the demands and care you had to take just to make a report and then having to hear how bad it was from Sabine herself every single time

She really made your life hell

Until the day where just you and her stayed late

After being told to redo all the work you have made for almost a month, you broke down and exploded, asking why she was so mean

She watched you in silence as you babbled angrily, with that look of superiority, of always being ready to end your life in a few words

But she didn't do that, she just sighed

"I just don't want you to become like me." "And your work was…reasonable."

Were the only things she said that night, aside from her usual commands

After that day, you noticed that she had become less strict with you and that was an incredible relief, knowing that your job wasn't so bad after all

She liked the change, you were much more productive that way and you smiled more

God only knows how much she enjoyed seeing a less stressed, always on the edge, side of yours

And suddenly, she found herself counting the minutes for you to get to the lab, to walk in radiant, like the first brightest ray of morning sunlight, to ask how a reaction worked or to ask for help with something, that she “unfortunately” had to be almost glued to you to show how it was done

You've been her protégé, since your first day, you just didn't realize it yet

Of course, she would like to see you a better version than the day before, but she always overlooked the little mistakes you made in your reports and she will continue to.

And no one will dare say anything about you, ever, because Sabine has ears everywhere and she doesn't mind having a live subject to try her toxins

She may have fallen in love first, but you'll fall in love harder

Prince Sabine

Such a gentleman and elegant

Already keep in mind that she will never say outright that she likes you, but she will let her actions speak for you to realize someday

Blanket over your shoulders when you stay late to research and end up sleeping in your own notes

And if she finds out that you drink coffee, every morning your favorite cup will already be full

Sabine has a lot of money, it is natural for her to drink good quality (and very expensive) coffee, you will start drinking too because you deserve it.

She gets extra gentle after disappearing for a few days to do her “personal project” stuff

She likes to watch you, almost admiring from afar, but you'll never catch her looking, she hides it very well

You on the other hand is always caught staring at her, it’s like she has a sixth sense and always knows when you’re looking

She gets sooo confident after these moments

You'll just see a discreet smirk and her going back to work as if nothing had happened, but inside? She is holding back from shaking her hands in euphoria and blushing like a teen.

The only time you can pick up tidbits of information about her personal life is during your overtime, when only the two of you are working.

She won’t say much, but hey, any information is information

And she gets more...touchy in those moments when you two are alone - as touchy as Viper can be

She snakes a hand up your back, soft and slow, looking for any reaction of disgust or fear from you.

She notices the way you look at her when you two are working, she's not stupid

But she can't believe that life would be so kind as to give her someone as perfect as you.

Not after all she have done

She makes baby steps in your “relationship”

Part of her hopes you'll get tired of waiting and go find someone else

Part of her expects you to stick with her and keep coming after her, because she will come after you...someday.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠

@ Do not copy any of my works, translate and/or post it on others websites.

#valorant #valorant x reader #valorant x you #valorant headcanons #valorant fanfic #viper #valorant viper #viper x reader #valorant viper x reader #viper x you #sabine callas #sabine callas x reader

190 notes · View notes

cherrycola27 · 6 days

Text

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 20: Right Where You Left Me

welcome home

Your brother's words rang in your ears, catching you off guard.

Home

Olympus

You were restored

But you weren't home. Olympus hadn't been your home in a long time—if ever.

Home was Earth. Home was a house in Coronado with your husband.

Home was Bradley.

You stood there, staring at Poseidon for a long while before taking a deep breath. "Si, this isn't my home." You tell him softly. "What do you mean? You're a Goddess. Olympus is your home." He questions you.

"This place may have been my home once, but not anymore. Not after everything—" You trail off, but your brother nods, knowing what you mean. He was the only one who took your side when everything happened with Persephone.

"My home is Earth now, with my husband." You tell him. "Husband?" Poseidon asks you.

"Yes, a mortal, his name is Bradley. He's the reason I'm here. There was an accident. I sacrificed myself to save him." You say, not wanting to tell much more.

"Does he make you happy, sister?" Poseidon speaks softly. "Happier than I have ever been." You smile. "Wonderful. I am happy for you." He smiles at you.

There is a beat of silence. "Well then, I would love for you to stay around, but I'm sure you want to go back to him. Promise to visit some, or I can come see you." Poseidon smiles.

"That would be wonderful, Si." You smile at him before hugging him. He hugs you back tightly before allowing you to take a step back.

You roll your shoulders back and touch your wedding rings. "Take me to Bradley." You whisper, waiting to be whisked back to him. Instead, electricity floods your body, jolting you with pain. You cry out and collapse. Poseidon runs to your side. "Sister? Sister, are you alright?" His voice heavy with concern as he helps you to your feet.

"Something is wrong. I can't, I can't travel. I can't feel Bradley." You stammer out.

"Your husband, are you tethered?" Poseidon asks you. "Yes, I checked, see?" You say waving your hand over your wedding rings, but instead of finding the golden string that once lived there, you find it dull and lifeless. It's been cut.

"Zeus." Your brother breathes out before you can. "He had Hera and Aphroditie cut your tether. He must have forced them because they would never do it willingly." He says. "I've always known our brother was wicked, but this—this is just cruel." Poseidon breathes out.

Your lip quivers as you look at the limp string tied around your finger as tears silently fall. But soon, the sadness morphs to something else.

Rage burns inside of you. Anger fills your senses as the centuries of animosity that you've choked back explode from you in a burst of white-hot flames as you scream.

Poseidon jumps back as the flames of hatred wrap around you, turning your white dress black with smoke and ash.

"Where is he?" You growl lowly. "Court, Zeus, is hold court today in the palace." Your brother stutters out, simultaneously terrified and in awestruck by you.

You nodded before vanishing in a flash. Moments later, you were in the middle of a white marble hall. Columns stood tall on either side of you. Flaming torches of gold lined the walls, lighting the way. Ornate carvings dripping in gold, silver, and precious stones adorned the high ceilings.

Beautiful busts, paintings, tapestries, and statues decorated the hallway. You didn't take time to stop and marvel at them as you marched by, though.

You were on a mission. Each step you took had a purpose. You quickly found your way to the Great Hall. The solid gold doors were manned by two sentries who drew back the moment they saw you.

"Open." You commanded. They nodded before each grasping a handle and pulling the doors wide. You could hear your idiotic brother speaking as the doors opened, but the moment you appeared in the doorway, silence fell over the hall.

"Zeus!" You yelled out as you charged at him, feet pounding on the cool stone.

"You! You bastard!" You shrieked as you launched yourself at him. You saw terror briefly flash across his face before two strong pairs of arms subdued you. You struggled as you turned to see Ares and Apollo holding you firmly.

"Hades! Sister! Welcome home! I am so thankful you have been restored!" Zeus taunted you.

"Do not vex me with your passive-aggressive words, Brother. You and I both know you don't want me here." You seethe.

"Sister, why do you say that? I mean, after you were restored, I had Hermes lift the charm that prevented you from traveling to Olympus." Zeus smirked as you still struggled.

"Yes, and then you made sure to have him create a new one so I couldn't go back to Earth, and you forced Hera and Aphroditie to cut my tether to my husband, you bastard." You gritted out.

"Hades, darling baby sister, you must understand why I did it. You've spent so much time on Earth. I thought it would be best if you spent some time here, at home. And as for your tether, you and I both know you can't be with a mortal. It compromises your loyalty to your family." Zeus says as he pats your cheek.

You cry out as you heat your body so hot that Ares and Apollo release you as they wince in pain from you burning them.

Zeus stumbles backward and calls for someone else to restrain you, but you produce the Soul Sword and everyone backs away.

You turn and see that Zeus has he bolt in his hand, ready to throw it at you. You stalk towards him.

"Loyalty? That's what this is about? Loyalty and family? Zeus, you wouldn't know the meaning of those words if someone slapped you in the face with them." You say.

"Where was family when Persephone falsely accused me? Where was loyalty when you imprisoned me in the Underworld? You act like you are doing me a favor by letting me come to Olympus when you are the reason I was banished in the first place! You flaunt there on your high horse acting like you have changed by giving me 'freedom,' but I am still trapped! I am still right where you left me all those years ago, trapped in my own personal hell that you created by taking away the one thing that I love!" You scream at Zeus. Through angry tears.

"Hades, please, calm down. I'm just trying to be a good brother and look out for for well being." Zeus says.

"You are not my brother. You're just some bastard keeping me from my husband. And mark my words, you will rue this day, because I will have my revenge. It will not be today, and it may not be tomorrow. But one day soon, I am going to burn you and Olympus to the ground and then dance upon its ashes." You threaten him before disappearing in a could of smoke.

Zeus lets out the breath he has been holding and lowered his bolt. The eyes of the other Gods and Goddess are all on him, none of them daring to speak until Hera breaks the silence.

"You stupid, stupid man. I told you that forcing Aphroditie and I to cut her tether would end badly, and Hermes warned you that taking her traveling away would have repercussions; but you didn't listen. Now all of us are going to have to suffer. I hope you're satisfied with yourself." Hera says before turning on her heels and walking away, the others following her.

................

The sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen downstairs alerted Bradley that it was time to get out of bed. He'd been up for hours, lying awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying your last moments over and over in his mind again. It had been two weeks since the accident.

Two weeks since he had seen your smile, felt your touch, kissed your lips. Two weeks since he cut those ropes and watched you fall into the waves below without a trace.

Maverick had been staying with him in one of the guest rooms, trying to keep Bradley from drinking himself to death while wallowing in his grief.

Today was a day Bradley had been dreading. This morning, he and Maverick were going to meet with Cyclone to officially declare what Bradley already knew, that you'd been killed in action.

Begrudgingly, he swung his legs over his side of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He needed to shave. The stubbly beard he now had was well out of regs, but helped hide the way his face had thinned out some as a result of him being too sick with grief to eat.

After a shower and a shave, Bradley pulled on his uniform. The khaki material that had once hugged his frame nicely now hung loose and limp due to his diet and lack of exercise.

After trudging down the stairs, Bradley was immediately greeted by Cerberus and Hydra. He pet both of them before walking to the coffee maker and poured a cup of the scalding liquid before taking a long sip.

"I made breakfast." Maverick said, breaking the silence. "M'not hungry." Bradley mumbled over his coffee mug. "You need to eat something. You can't sustain yourself on black coffee and whiskey. Remember what Hades made you promise her." Maverick said.

Bradley turned to face his uncle and snatched the plate of eggs and toast from his hand before sitting down at the breakfast nook. Sometimes Bradley hated that Maverick knew everything about you now. He didn't mean to tell him, but the first night back stateside, Bradley had come home and drank almost a full bottle of whiskey. Maverick had come over to check on him, and Bradley let everything spill out.

Every detail about your relationship and your true identity and how you sacrificed yourself for him and the promise you had Bradley make you. Maverick was taken aback at first, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

After breakfast, Maverick insisted on driving to base. He and Bradley climb into the beat-up red jeep Mav had purchased on a whim a few years ago and made the twenty or so minute drive to base. It was silent the whole way there.

Bradley was stoic as he sat in the chair across from Cyclone and some other officers as they gave him the official declination of your death along with their deepest condolences.

After the meeting, he was flooded with questions about the arrangements he wanted to make for your funeral.

People were asking him what kind of service he wanted, when, and where. There were questions about flowers and speakers, but the one that broke him was when someone asked him what type of casket he wanted to pick out for you.

"Excuse me?" He spit out. "Did you just ask me about a casket?" Heat flooded his cheeks. The man sitting across from him stammered a reply.

"Why the fuck would I need a casket? My wife was killed in action, and they never recovered her body. Why would I need a fucking casket if I'm never going to get to lay her to rest and give her a proper goodbye? What kind of fucking question is that?" Bradley growled as tears streamed down his face.

"I don't give two fucks about any of this. The casket, the flowers, a head stone! None of it matters!" He roared before slamming his palms down on the table.

Maverick quickly helped him out of the room before Bradley collapsed against a wall and sobbed.

"Mav, what am I supposed to do? Bury an empty box? Am I supposed to get a headstone with her name on it and put it beside mom and dad with an empty casket under it?" Bradley cried.

"If that's what you want to do." Maverick said softly. "Do you want to put a headstone in Virginia?"

"We talked about it once. When we went other there. She asked me where I wanted to be buried, and I told her with my parents. But if I do that, I can't stay here in California Mav. I'd have to go back to Oceana." Bradley explained.

"If that's what you feel like you need to do, we can start the paperwork. I'll help you get everything taken care of with it. What about your house, though? Maverick asked home.

"I'll sell it. It doesn't feel like home without her it feels more like a prison because it's so empty. We were supposed to raise our kids there and grow old together. But instead, I'm right where I was before I met her, alone." Bradley sighs.

Maverick pats his shoulder and helps him to his feet. "I can't help you put together a nice tribute for Hades. One that she'd be proud of." Maverick gives him a half smile before walking Bradley down to his office.

A week later, Bradley is standing in a hotel room, preparing his dress blues for your funeral. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and flexes his bicep. The Roman numerals that are inked there now have a pair of angel wings beside them. He'd first noticed them a few days after he lost you. He knows that you had to have put them there as a way to make good on your promise to always be with him. He smiled as he traced them.

Bradley doesn't remember what people said about you at your service. It all passed in a blur. He'd written a speech but doesn't remember giving it. He was, and still is on auto pilot.

The realization of everything doesn't hit him until he is walking up to the empty golden oak casket that Maverick helped him pick out and pounding his his wings into it that this is happening.

As the gun salute rings out and jets fly overhead, he feels his heart shattering like a red wine glass over a white table cloth.

After the service, people disburse, but Bradley takes a seat on the freshly broken Earth and stares at the granite stone that reads your name. He stays there for hours, unmoving even as the sun begins to fade, and the first few leaves off autumn drop from the trees and collect on him like dust.

It's only when Maverick and the rest of the Daggers come back at sundown that they are able to coax him away from your grave.

Bradley gets dressed and leaves his hotel room early the next morning, getting to the cemetery just as the sun is coming up. He just wants to be alone. He hopes that maybe in the peace and quiet, he'll be able to feel your presence.

.............

Despite being away from the Underworld so long, you were able to fall back into your routine as queen quickly. It helped keep your mind busy and thoughts occupied. If you were left to your own devices for too long, your mind wandered back to Bradley, and you'd cry so hard that you'd make yourself sick. Honestly, you felt sick most of the time since you'd been back. You chalked up to a broken heart.

Minthe and Hecate encourage you to go visit Bradley's parents in their piece of Paradise, but you were afraid. What if they didn't know who you were or didn't like you?

Right now, it didn't matter. You had to put those thoughts on the back burner because you had a meeting with the Council of Fates. You'd donned a simple but regal black dress and were sitting at the head of a long mahogany table. When Théama, the leader of the Council, walked in with the rest of the Fates in tow.

"Greetings, Majesty." Théama curtsied to you before shaking your hand. "I believe you know the rest of the Council members, but I would like to introduce you to my younger sister, Mantisa. She has just come into her gift of sight.

A younger girl who looked just like Théama curtsied to you before extending her hand to shake yours. The moment her hand touched yours, her head snapped back, and her body froze. Everyone stood still until Mantisa came around.

"Sister, what did you see?" Théama asked her.

"Pardon my ignorance Majesty, all of ours really. We were not aware congratulations were in order." Mantisa spoke.

"What do you mean?" You asked the young Fate with a puzzled look.

"Oh, forgive me. Are you unaware, my lady?" Mantisa asks you. "Unaware of what?" You say, a tad harsh.

"That you are with child." Mantisa says with a smile. You feel your eye twitch before you reach forward and grab her roughly by the arm.

"What did you say?" You grit out. You nails dig into her flesh. "You are with child, my lady. I saw it in my vision." Mantisa trembles out.

"How dare you say that. I have not laid with my husband in weeks. I died before being restored, plugged into the ocean from a tall cliff, and drowned. No babe, could have survived that. The words you have spoken are treason, and I could have your tongue, or better yet, your head for it." Your voice is laced with venom.

"Majesty, please. Mantisa has just received her gift. She does not know how to interpret her visions yet. She is just a girl. Please. Mantisa, take it back!" Théama begs.

"No, I'm not wrong. I saw it. I saw you with a babe. Please, Majesty. Take my hand. Please let me show you." Mantisa pleads. You battle with yourself before deciding to humor her.

"Fine. Prove yourself." You say as you let her go.

Mantisa takes your hand and places it on your stomach and puts her over your own. "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and feel." Mantisa encourages you.

So you do.

You close your eyes and relax. You think of Bradley and the happy times you spent together. The warmth and the love that he made you feel. And suddenly, you feel it. It's no more than a flutter, but it's there. The beat of a heart that isn't your own.

You gasp as a golden light surrounds you before wrapping around your hand and lighting up your tether, restoring it.

"My gods." You whisper as tears streak your face. "But how?"

"Demigod children are resilient, that have had to be." Minthe tells you as she hugs you.

"You daughter is perfect. She will grow to be a strong and healthy princess and a wise queen." Mantisa tells you.

"Daughter?" You say. "Yes. A daughter. Strong like her mother and father." She smiles at you.

"Thank you." You tell her. "Thank you for this gift. Forgive me for my behavior. I—" you trail off. "You are forgiven. I could not imagine what you have been through." Mantisa says as she hugs you. You and the Fates decide to meet again at a later date. You have something more important to do.

...............

You rocked nervously on your heels as you stood on the porch of the small farmhouse that looked exactly like the one from the photos Bradley had shown you.

After visiting with the royal healers, you found that you were around ten weeks pregnant. Once you realized it, it explained much of your sickness and feelings. You only wish you had a way to tell Bradley. But now that you tether was restored, maybe you could find one.

For now, though, you wanted to tell his parents. So, you changed into a simple black sundress and picked a bouquet of poppies and sunflowers.

You took a deep breath before knocking on their door. You could hear footsteps as you stood there waiting, going over the speech you prepared in your head again.

But the moment the door opened, and you saw Carole Bradshaw standing there, just as beautiful as she was in all the pictures you'd seen of her, you froze.

"Well, hello there." She said to you warmly.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Carole stood there, waiting patiently with a bright smile on her face.

"I—" you choked out. "I'm sorry—I should go." You say quickly, taking a step back. But before you can leave, Carole places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Nonsense. Please, come in. Goose and I have been so eager to meet you, Sweet Girl." Carole smiles as she guides you through the door.

"You—you know who I am?" You ask her. "Of course I do. Goose and I check on Bradley every day. And did you think I wouldn't recognize my own ring?" She asks you. "Oh." You say shyly.

Carole leads you into the living room that is filled with pictures that you know well. She offers you a seat and you offer her the flowers.

She takes them and calls into the kitchen. "Goose!"

"That's me, Honey!" A male voice calls back. "Get me a vase with some water and start some coffee. Our daughter-in-law is here for a visit!" Carole calls back to him as she walks in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Carole comes back with coffee, and Goose follows behind her with a tray of sweets. You're stunned at just how much Bradley favors his father. It's uncanny.

"Bradley looks so much like you." You blurt out before you can even think. Goose laughs. "What a shame. I was hoping he would get his mama's beauty." Goose laughs. "Goose, you and I both know how handsome he is." Carole playfully pushes him.

You stand up to shake their hands. "Now, Hades," Goose begins, "we are family, and families hug, Sweet Girl." He says to you before wrapping his arms around you. Carole joins him, and for a minute, everything feels normal.

It feels like home.

You spend all evening with Goose and Carole. They tell you stories about Bradley's childhood, and you tell them about how he is now. Carole makes dinner, and you eat with them, and it makes you feel so warm inside. You only wish Bradley were here. If you could travel to Earth, you could bring him here. Yet another thing Zeus had taken from you.

It's late in the evening when you tell them you have to leave. They offer you their extra room to sleep over, but you decline.

"Before I leave, there is one thing I wanted to tell you. It's the reason I came in the first place, actually." You say.

"What is it, Sweet Girl?" Carole asks you.

"You're going to be grandparents." You tell them. Cries of joy leave their mouths as they hug you tighly.

"Does—does Bradley know?" Goose asks you. You hang your head. "No, I found out today, and with everything I've told you, you know I can't go to Earth and tell him or bring him here. But I'm not going to give up. Bradley is going to meet his daughter." You say.

"Daughter?" Carole smiles. "Yes, daughter." You confirm. "How wonderful. Hades, you are smart. I know you'll figure something out. And we are here if you need us for anything." Carole reassures you. You hug her and Goose once more before traveling back to your palace.

It's late once you get back. You fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits your pillows. You find sleep easy for the first time since you'd returned. You were content to drift off and dream about you and Bradley and your daughter. But hours later, Minthe and Hecate burst into your room.

"My lady! My lady!" They shout, rousing you from your slumber. "What? What is it?" You ask, still groggy.

"My lady, the guards have reported a disturbance at the palace gate. You must come quickly." Minthe tells you.

You jolt up out of bed and wrap yourself in a long, flowing black robe. You run down the hall and down the stairs and through the castle until you burst out the doors. You make your way through the courtyard and through the crowd that has gathered at the palace gate.

You don't believe your eyes when you see what—well who is there. You blink a few times and a pinch yourself to make sure you are awake. Sure enough, you are. Your heart rate quickens, and your palms sweat. You place a protective hand on your stomach before opening your mouth and speaking.

"Bradley?"

...........................................

Taglist: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @withahappyrefrain @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @roosterisdaddy36 @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @asshlyyyy @inkandarsenic @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef @skipchat @sunlightmurdock @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @briseisgone @angelbabyange @marvelouslyme96 @desert-fern @mshistorylover

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #tgm #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #tgm 2 #false god #Spotify

82 notes · View notes