Genshin Men And Their Red Flags In Relationships . ( Gn! Reader . )

secret relationships with them. includes xiao, albedo, cyno, childe. gn!reader. modern au! slight college au?. no warnings. wc: 1,428 . semi proof-read.

xiao — [✧]

despite being in the same circle of friends, no one has seen you and xiao interacting outside hangouts. no one has seen you two talking for at least five minutes, either one of you always talking to someone else. and so, no one would think you two are close, right?

in truth, your relationship with xiao was never meant to be a secret. if one were to ask either of you if you two were together, you two would answer the same thing: yes.

though both of you had never agreed to keep it under wraps from your friends, it just seemed as if it was a normal thing to do. you two were still friends, at least to others.

no one even notices the changes when xiao starts telling them that he'd drive you home, always shrugging his shoulders if they'd ask him to drive them home too.

often, on the weekend, when hutao proposes to meet up for lunch, you and xiao always come at the same time—and like always, you'd tell them you caught up to him in the parking lot.

he would sit beside you every time, only because there were no seats left, and hold your hand under the table. sometimes, he places his hand on your thigh, brushing his thumb over them as he talks to kazuha about something you have half the mind to listen to.

though you suppose you aren't hiding your relationship, you don't talk about xiao to hutao or yanfei. they'd never shut up about it, is what you say.

sometimes, when you're saying goodbye to everyone else, xiao waits for you by the corner, waiting for everyone to leave. he'd hold your hand more freely in the car, placing his lips on your hand as he murmurs a small i love you.

because your relationship isn't in the open, xiao is always frowning whenever yanfei brings up another man's name, telling you that you just have to meet him.

still, even if you and xiao sometimes decide on telling them that you have been together for months now, you two find it amusing whenever they seem so clueless. maybe for a few more months, you'd keep it a secret.

albedo —[✧]

keeping everything a secret was more of an agreement made by you. initially, you were afraid of what others would say. you had made such a fuss about not falling for him—because god, albedo was always competing with you in everything.

at first, albedo had pointed out that no one would be surprised should you tell everyone you two were together. they're already expecting it, he says.

but your relentless whining and pouts made albedo agree, only on the condition that you'd start talking to him more on campus.

and no one notices the way how albedo's gazes go from observing to loving. he wouldn't be able to count on his fingers how many times he had looked up from his laptop to find you laughing along with your friends.

if you ever made it to the lecture before him, albedo would tap three times on your table—i love you.

when you walk past him in the hallways, albedo brushes his fingers with yours, smiling lightly as he talks to aether about his new findings.

you always end up in the same places for lunch, with you telling amber and eula that you want to eat in that specific place. eula wonders why albedo and his companions are everywhere you go.

no one notices the lingering stares and the suppressed smiles albedo sends your way. somehow, you are the only one who notices the subtle expression on his face, and he tells you it is meant for only you.

still, as the days pass and you begin to regret your decision on keeping it a secret, albedo would remind you of the consequences, humming as he'd hold you.

and once you finally had had enough of albedo continuing the agreement you both made, you'd come up to him once your classes end, and grab him by the hand.

you'd tug him along after, entwining your fingers with his as he lets out a small laugh, telling you that he found you cute.

cyno — [✧]

no one suspects cyno to be romantically entangled with someone, hell, it is a mutual agreement by those who know of him that he barely had any emotions other than that of discipline and justice.

no one suspects that it is you who had wormed the way into his heart, the stoic and straightforward cyno's object of affection.

even before you had met him, he was always an enigma to you. always hearing of him from your friends but never getting too close to meeting him.

and when you did meet him, he kept you at arm's length, always brushing you off; his serious personality almost pushed you away. hint: almost.

and similar to cyno pursuing individuals who had done something wrong, he would pursue you to the ends of the world, wanting to hold you behind closed doors.

every time without fail, cyno would wait outside your lecture hall, ready to reprimand you so that you'd come along with him. no one knows that he leads you home, your finger intertwined.

because many view cyno as crude, he has vowed to keep you safe from others, resorting to keeping you as someone who has constantly broken rules that he cannot overlook—it is only he and you know otherwise.

despite being seen as a threat to others, cyno often accompanies you at night when you need to submit requirements, talking to you laxly as if there is no other person in the world.

and really, even the people who he considers friends do not know the secret between the two of you, always hiding you from them so as to not let them know that he has one particular weakness.

and being his weakness, when there are no more lingering eyes of those who he considers enemies, cyno takes you in his arms, nuzzling his face by your neck as you'd laugh.

often, you sit across him from his desk, watching as his brows scrunch up, finishing whatever task he had left. he looks pretty, you say, and he simply hums.

and while cyno is eager to let others know you are his, he will have to put up with it for now, keeping you to himself within the shadows.

childe — [✧]

with childe, your relationship with him is more of a game. though both of you had initially agreed to tell everyone else that you were officially together, you had told him a small joke—one that you two laughed about the whole time.

who would confront the two of your first? would it be hutao? or would it be kaeya? maybe keqing if she was nosy?

childe was always touchy, even before the two of you began dating. no one questioned the back hugs, the holding of arms, or the constant poking of sides.

hiding your relationship with childe was easy, at least you thought so at first.

even when you are together with your friends, childe makes it a point to never linger for too long with you, either deciding to sit on the couch with kaeya or argue with xiao about god knows what.

when everyone is saying their goodbyes, childe simply waves at you, telling you that he'd see you next week—no one knows he'd wait a few meters away, watching to see if there is no one else but you who can see him.

and not once have you gushed to any of your friends about childe. you had not told anyone about him holding your hand in the car or him zipping up your jacket.

as the days go by, you begin to grow annoyed at the game you had put yourself in. you were stuck in your own dilemma.

but once, keqing had told you that childe keeps looking your way. just when you had lost all hope—ready to admit to everyone that yes, we are indeed together!—keqing comes to the rescue.

xiao follows after, scoffing that childe has not kept his eyes off your for the past hour. then, you remember that childe had taken one too many drinks for the night.

and not even a minute later, childe is announcing his love and adoration for you. always a lightweight in alcohol, you'd watch as he stumbles towards you, laughing.

at least now the game is over, and no one had won.

NOTES this originally had kazuha in it but i couldn't write him bc i really couldn't envision it in him HSAHHASHS might be my last post for a while as i'm running for honors and i really have to focus on that

MAIN TAGLIST @ljinghe @yaefics @imtoodumbforaname @sugxqts @pfftnavi @wccycc @hangesextra @queens-knave @quinnwas @k4miyato @lucy-roo @selenshinitai @luvvmeilin @akiyutaa @mauvemiko @prilux @ghostiedolly @17an @yukanazz @neevy @lordbugs @monicahar @pissied @plinkuro @ilyuobts @mc-park @starforecasts @yaesflorist @kazuwhore @psycho-nightrose @veyu002 @scaraloves @amethystwithlove @heartonthemoon @mei-core @lovecherrysumi @nejibot @yakshao @kazucafe @usipia @mei-sob @senjuchii @defnotr

@genericgreyson @ksjjkthpjm @cridtiins @chikkimn @bubblyclouds @aoxilotl @tartagliasmoneybag @akinokisetsu @jupiters-ringss @vividzpop @todorokichills @meisuuu @paechsoda @arakuki @yelleloww @venus-phobic @rreizhn @sweetstrawberrybabe @chrissyyy-xoxo @grvngefroggie @scaraslover @abbynxisys @yoruunight @shailuvs @cherryblossomsandnightskies @kiyowoir @mylovelyskies @lala1007 @ennevivi

if your blog is not highlighted, it means i cannot tag you and you may have to put your blog out of being hidden! to be removed/added, fill out my main taglist form!

re: genshin sexdoll au. i had an idea about gorou being a (admittedly terrible at it) gaslighting tsundere bitch that wants to come off as nonchalant and "whatever YOU want is fine with me" but then second you turn your head he pounces on you and just jackrabbits his cock into you like he's going to die if he stops for a second. also he cries from overstimulating himself.

tw - unhealthy relationships, codependence, obsessive behavior, attempted isolation, and mentions of past abuse.

i could actually really see this with a Gorou droid who was neglected by his previous user. y'know, locked up at home for days at a time, rarely ever repaired or maintained, taught he had to beg for any attention he got or just suffer on his own forever - because there's nothing that causes an android more suffering than not being able to serve their user properly. of course, you're so much nicer than that. you always come home at the end of the day, and you make sure to comb through his tail every morning and night, and he doesn't even have to get on his knees to bury himself inside of you and thrust and buck until his stores are empty, until his programming fuzzes around the edges and he can't really tell if it's his voice whining or yours.

you take good care of him, as aware as he is that it's supposed to be the other way around. he knows he's supposed to be the strong one between the two of you, that you're supposed to be able to rely on him for everything you need, but he can't help it, something in his code just adores the sound of your voice, the little sparks of pressure and warmth that flood into his system every time you cup his cheeks and, in the kind of sweet tone his previous user would never user, call him a good boy, your good boy. he likes it when he can be of use to you, when you can use him however he wants to, and it's not like he feels any pain, it's not like there's anything to stop him from kneeling between your legs until the fingers you've been running through his hair go slack and you say that little word he hates hearing.

admittedly, he'd tried to do things he knows you wouldn't like, before. he's just so afraid that you're going to leave him behind, that you'll start to pay more attention to something or someone else than you do to him, but he can't seem to go through with it, whether he's just trying to delete a few messages or vault your phone out of a fifth-story window. it might be something in his programming, or a past experience he tried to scrub from his databank, or just a show of how much he loves you - he doesn't know, but he wants to be yours. that's all, really. he wants your attention to be on him, and to bask in your love and care, and he wants to be yours.

he wants to be yours, and he just doesn't know what he'd do if you ever tried to make him into anything else.

Hatefully Yours

yandere!scaramouche x (female) reader art credit - rome_romedo on twt/pixiv cw: nsfw, yandere, subtle hate sex, dub-con, mild f*ck or die situation note - please read the content warnings and do not proceed reading if you are a minor or do not wish to read what’s listed in the warnings.

It’s deplorable, really—how you crumble underneath his fingertips with such ease. As if the key to your compliance was simple skin-to-skin contact all along. You should’ve been wary of the concealed malice in his smile when you had the chance. After all, it would’ve done you well to put as much distance between yourself and the Fatui Harbinger. Deep down you knew something was off when he presented himself in such a friendly manner, as if he were a mere drifter lacking a clear route.

His kindness had felt so undeniably real, though, and that’s what left you floored. You thought his smile was pleasant enough and if Mona hadn’t stepped in you would’ve let him join your party. Now that you were aware of the reality, it made more sense that he’d put up an innocently helpful front, wanting to get as close to you as possible before bringing the hatchet down. He’s a clever one, but the Fatui have always been good at scheming.

What a little rat, you think, gritting your teeth as you’re brought back to your senses. Your current situation doesn’t allow you to hide away in the inner most nooks and crannies of your head. Unless you fancy a swift beheading, which is the exact thing you’re trying to avoid.

Keep reading

In the middle of the storm

Summary: A storm, a hard landing, an unexpected company and many feelings exposed.

A/N: English is not my first language. Sorry for mistakes. Valyrian isn't my language either. Just a detail, although the events of Storm's End happened here in this story, Lucerys is still alive. Because I want it to be and period hahaha have fun!!

Warnings: nsfw, f!reader, reader is a year older than jacaerys, velaryon/strong reader, sex, targcest, aemond very possessive, pet names, dirty talk, some soft feelings ❤️🥰

"Lykirī, ñuhys raqiros." (Calm down, my friend.) You whispered to your dragon, feeling Merax's annoyed snore shake your body gently. An amused laugh leaves your lips as Merax struggles to do as you've asked. You've been gliding beneath the clouds for a while now, the vastness of the night sky your only company. But Merax felt something, he could see and feel much better than you the clouds getting thick and thunder rumbling in the distance, he smelled a strong storm approaching and he was getting agitated trying to somehow warn you about it.

The two of you were coming from a visit to the Riverlands, looking for allies for the Black's. You came back with good news, which was very rare these days. Your spirit was positively uplifted. After many disappointments, finally some good news to give you some hope. You had the support of a great house now, with resources and numbers that would certainly make a difference in the face of a possible clash.

As your brother Jacaerys had said, dragons were decidedly more convincing than ravens sending messages. Merax, with all his size and sturdiness, made a pretty obvious point in his silent threat that things wouldn't end well if the answer was no. And besides, of course you were prepared to offer your own hand in marriage as an offer of alliance, as ridiculous and oppressive as that sounded to you. But a war was about to break out, you couldn't afford to believe that sacrifices weren't necessary. You were willing to do that, if it meant the Lord of Riverrun's support. You'd sell yourself like cattle if you had to, willing to do anything to ensure your mother's victory. His acceptance was all the motivation the other Lords of the Riverlands needed to also swear their loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra again, as they had done years ago when the then King Viserys Targaryen named her his rightful heir.

Yes, you were engaged now, but it could be worse. Your fiancé wasn't nasty as you knew many were. Indeed, Lord Tully was a good-looking young man; tall, auburn hair, beautiful blue eyes. He also had status as a well-recognized house and a great education. And he had treated you very well during the short time you were in Riverrun for the negotiations.

It wasn't the wedding you had dreamed of for yourself. But it could be much worse, you knew.

You felt the wind abruptly getting stronger at the same time as raindrops began to fall hard on your face, pulling you out of your thoughts. Merax growled and shook off his head. You knew your dragon well enough to know he was upset that you hadn't heeded his warnings sooner. "Ziry iksos separ daomikydoso, Merax. Īlon jahor sagon sȳz." (It's just rain, Merax. We'll be fine.) You said at the same time that lightning whizzed right next to both of you, making you jump in fright. Merax roared louder, shaking his black scales in annoyance.

Merax was very protective of you. From the first flight, both formed a strong bond that surprised many. Merax was a full-grown dragon, strong and terrifying. He was not afraid of rain and lightning, not least because there was nothing to fear, since he himself was a force of nature. But he wanted to protect you, he knew you were different from him obviously. Even if Targaryen blood ran through your veins and made you tougher than others, you were still human. And therefore susceptible to disease and disaster which, for a dragon like Merax, wouldn't be a problem. Whenever you both flew in conditions similar to this, he would get irritated and annoyed. You knew he would fly home in that angry, mumbling state. And there was still a long way to go to Dragonstone, you thought with a snort, it would be an irritating journey.

"Nyke tepagon bē, ao uēpa zaldrizes!" (I give up, you old dragon!) Merax seemed to be pleased with your giving up, though he growled at the nickname. You laughed feeling your hair stick to your rain-soaked face. "Ivestragī's jikagon ilagon, Merax!" (To the ground, Merax!) He wasted no time and obeyed you, shrinking his gigantic wings as he descended fast. You spread your arms, trusting the straps around your body so you could enjoy the freezing rain hitting your face harder on the way down, the strength of the wind against you making you let out an excited yelp knowing no one but Merax could hear. It's been a long time since you felt like this, so free. The obligations and pressures of a war knocking at your doors left everyone tense and with no time for fun. But, heavens, you missed it.

Merax spread its wings again as you both neared the ground, and you turned your attention to where you were going. The rain was very heavy, as was the fog, but when you finally managed to see the ground, you realized that you were under a field of crops. Merax continued gliding along the ground for a while until he reached an area with a large lake, some rocks and mountains around it. His huge paws touched the muddy ground once, twice, three times until he finally dug his claws into the ground to stop. You looked around for where you could take shelter and saw that farther away was a ramshackle shack, clearly abandoned. But it had a semi-decent roof, which would serve to quell the storm until it was safe to fly again. At first you were irritated at the thought of stopping the trip for a silly drizzle, but with the gale shaking your body on top of Merax, the torrential rain that was falling now and the thunder and lightning bursting in your ears louder and louder, you agreed to yourself - with a frown on your face - that Merax was right.

But your dragon wasn't relaxed like you thought he would be when you decided to give in and do his bidding. He looked even more tense now, in fact. Wings outstretched, slightly crouched posture and sharp teeth bared in a menacing snarl as he stared up at the sky. He was ready to fight. But what was it here that posed a threat to a terrifying dragon like Merax?

You could barely see a hand in front of you with the rain pouring down the way it was, but even so you brushed your soaked hair out of your eyes and tried very hard to see what threatened Merax.

At first you didn't notice anything. The only sounds you could hear were the rain falling in full force and Merax's growl below your body. But then a familiar roar sounded above your head, a fierce roar that had you straightening your body in Merax's cell, alert.

Vhagar.

You knew it was her, having heard that roar again before. After your aunt's funeral, after your uncle, Aemond, to claim Vhagar and lose his eye for it. You heard her roar when her rider was wounded, and you never forgot it. It was the same roar as now. And if Vhagar was here, so was Aemond. You haven't seen him since the family dinner fiasco where he humiliated you and your brothers. You had nothing against Aemond, in fact you had defended him when you both were children and your brothers along with his brother made cruel jokes with him. But clearly his uncle was no longer the boy he was before, the intentions of his heart being completely unknown to you at this point. Lucerys recounted a cruel pursuit when he was at Storm's End seeking the support of Lord Borros Baratheon. Thank the gods your brother had managed to escape along with Arrax, but it had been close.

You didn't know what Aemond wanted, or even what he was capable of, and even though neither the Blacks nor the Greens had made a violent move against each other yet, you couldn't help but puff your chest out in preparation. What if Aemond decided to do to you what he did to Lucerys? A cruel and malicious pursuit. Merax was a full-grown dragon, much older than you, perhaps he had even battled another dragon before. You couldn't tell. He hadn't had a fitter for many years before you claimed him for yourself. Until then he was considered a wild dragon, without an owner. But anyway since you became his rider, the two of you hadn't fought another dragon directly before. Much less one of Vhagar's size and experience. You knew that in strength you both wouldn't win, as Merax was smaller than her. But maybe if you kept your cool and a objective strategy, you could escape just like Arrax and Lucerys.

How the hell did Aemond know you were here? You didn't even know you'd be here!

Through the haze of the heavy curtain of rain Vhagar crossed above you, much closer this time. Merax roared aloud in defiance and turned his large body to match her movements.

"Lykirī, Merax." You said in a firm tone, trying to calm your dragon who was starting to act on instinct in the face of the possible threat. You knew you couldn't ask him to fly now, the weather wouldn't favor you. You had no option but to wait for Aemond and Vhagar's first move and then act accordingly.

With a loud thud that shook the earth below you, Vhagar landed. Her giant body oozing rivers of water as she shook her head and her wings with a roar. Merax was restless, not knowing exactly what that meant, but deducing that he was hostile. His paws propelled him forward instinctively, though you again said "Lykirī". But he ignored your request - for the first time - and continued on his way to Vhagar, growling and spreading his wings in defiance.

This was too bad.

Aemond's blond head popped out from behind Vhagar's neck and you could see that he was holding tightly to the ropes that connected her body, pulling on them as he shouted a "Dohaerās, Vhagar". He was trying to control her. So he didn't want to fight. It was just two dragons acting on instinct.

This spurred you to action and before Merax approached Vhagar to the point of no return you also firmly gripped the ropes near the cell, lifting your body a little to gain momentum and shouted as sternly as you could: "DOHAERĀS, MERAX!" He hesitated, wanting to continue walking, but confused by your determination to deny him that. "KELĪTĪS!" You ordered him to a stop with a strong tug on the ropes. Your resolve being tested by the dragon, you knew.

Obviously annoyed and still angry, Merax roared but stopped his advance towards the other dragon. Aemond also having succeeded in taming Vhagar, looked at you soaked in his cell.

"But what the hell do you think you're doing, Aemond? You know you shouldn't approach a full-grown dragon like that! Are you wanting to start the war today?!" You shouted from above Merax to Aemond, trying to control your heart that was beating desperately at the possibility of a fight between the two dragons.

Aemond didn't answer you, instead descending from Vhagar with all the mastery and grace that only a Prince and Rider of his level would have. Even if though he looked like a drowned cat. You watched him turn his back on you and walk across the muddy earth towards the run-down shack.

You stared at him open-mouthed, not understanding anything about this situation.

"Are you going to keep screaming like an animal at slaughter or are you going to seek shelter from this storm, niece?" He spoke loudly over the noise of the rain without stopping his walk. Merax seriously torn between facing Vhagar to the death or facing Aemond, fearful he might offer you harm.

"Nyke'll sagon sȳz, nyke kivio. Sagon sȳz naejot se gevie riñnykeā toliot konīr." (I'll be fine, I promise. Be kind to the beautiful Lady over there.) You said fondly, nodding in Vhagar's direction as you smoothed Merax's hard scales. Somehow Vhagar heard your words and growled at you. You widened your eyes and left as quickly as possible, almost running towards the shack. Far be it from you to want to be the target of Grandma Vhagar's wrath.

You entered the house, which had no door or window, both broken into and decaying on the floor. Large piles of hay scattered across the decrepit floor. Streams of rainwater seeping through the wood of the ceiling and the corners of the walls to the floor. It was all crap. But it kept most of the rain outside, and that in itself was a mercy.

Aemond stood by the broken window, no longer wearing his heavy black coat and leather shirt, wearing only a long-sleeved shirt. Hands clasped behind him, posture perfectly upright looking at the gale outside, water still dripping from his hair and clothes. You stood there in the doorway, eyeing him suspiciously, the one-room house being too small to house all the strangeness that had formed around you both over the years. You didn't trust him. He insulted you more than once by calling you a bastard. He almost killed your brother. He was your rival.

"Are you going in or are you going to keep staring at me until the storm passes?" He grumbled without looking at you. Your bored voice unnerved you. You huffed and walked into the house. The sound of the wind on the boards making the house creak in a frightening way, as well as the flashes of lightning.

You walked in circles around the room, feeling soaked to the bone and shivering. Your boots soaked in water, your thick shirt half red and half black weighing your body so wet and your riding pants clinging to your skin in an irritating way, as well as the gloves on your hands.

You were smart, you'd read enough books to know that keeping your clothes wet on your body in this cold weather wasn't going to end well for you. Chills disease being, in most cases, fatal for those who catch it. And it all starts with a cold. You were one step away from entering a war, you couldn't afford to die from a damn cold.

You knew what to do.

But where could you muster the courage to take off your clothes while standing right in front of your slightly psychotic-leaning uncle?

You stood there debating the options, whether it would be better to work up the courage to do what you knew needed to be done or whether it was better to risk catching a disease and dying, when Aemond turned to you.

"I can hear your teeth chattering even over the roar of the storm, child." He said with a cocky smile, not unclasping his hands behind his body.

Child? You two were almost the same age!

"As if you weren't freezing after that storm too, you idiot!" You screamed, offended and embarrassed, trying to control your jaw quivering in the cold.

He just shrugged.

You felt your body shivering more and more, the cold of your clothes getting deeper into your skin as time passed.

"Take it off." he said, suddenly impatient, taking you by surprise.

"N-no!" You responded too quickly to be considered natural. Yes, you knew it had to be done. But hearing the command from his mouth made you irritated and embarrassed.

Aemond sighed, as if the whole situation was beyond him, as if he didn't deserve to be here with you.

"Come on girl. You and I both know it needs to be done. Let's get this over with." He grumbled walking towards you, as if he was going to take off your clothes himself. Your eyes widened like plates and your cheeks heated up when you realized that.

"I do it alone!" Your desperate words left your lips before he could get any closer.

Gathering courage, you undid the click of the chain that held your sodden cloak around your neck, hanging the fabric over one of the many old boards propped up against the wall. Then you bent down and removed your boots and gloves. Never once did you dare lift your eyes to Aemond, or else you would lose your nerve. Being in his presence for some reason made your heart race and your body tingle in a way it shouldn't have. Your fingers were shaking — you told yourself it was just the cold — as you unbuttoned the long-sleeved shirt, slowly pulling it off his shoulders.

God, why was he still standing right there watching everything?

And more importantly, why weren't you yelling at him about it?

You were feeling overwhelmed with emotions, none of which you should be feeling.

With a final sigh you finished pulling the heavy shirt over your arms, and without stopping to think too much, you pulled your pants down too, leaving only a thin, loose shirt that reached mid-thigh. Your arms instantly crossed in front of your breasts as you remembered that the shirt was also wet and therefore transparent. You wouldn't take that shirt off, even if it meant your death. But stark naked in front of Aemond you wouldn't be. In your peripheral vision you noticed him shifting from one foot to the other, looking impatient. You could have sworn you saw him reach out, but he quickly forced her back behind the body.

You didn't have time to think about the bizarre strangeness of the situation, as he quickly turned around and picked up a pile of hay, placing it in the center of the room, gathering some sticks and rubbing them together trying to generate a spark . Understanding what he was going to do, you felt yourself relax a little, the thought of warming up a bit being very welcome at this point. Targaryen blood or not, the cold was more than you could bear.

Soon you found yourself watching with totally unexpected fascination the mesmerizing way in which Aemond's large hands - thickly veined, you couldn't help noticing - twirled the sticks deftly over the dry hay. The way he gently blew to help sparks turn to flame. The way he seemed to do it easily, as if he'd done it a thousand times before. He gave you a tranquility and control of the situation that left you not knowing what to think.

A flame finally appeared among the hay and Aemond quickly surrounded it with the palm of his hand to keep the wind from blowing it out. He gathered more hay until that flame was higher, then put some sticks and wood chips he found on the ground to make the flame last longer.

You standing around the whole time watching in awe.

When the fire was strong enough to sustain itself, Aemond stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. Just like that.

You haven't had the time or mental preparation to see Aemond's sculpted chest and muscled abs to perfection. His skin glistened with the wetness of the rain against the fire's flames, creating a mesmerizing shadow. White hair clinging to shoulders and chest. He bent down to take off his boots - by divine mercy he left his pants in place - then stood up and turned his back on you. You gasped when you realized he was taking off his eye patch. He gathered his long hair in his hands and wrung out any excess water. Then he put the eye patch back in place and turned to you again.

Still not speaking, he sat down against the wall, facing the fire. You didn't know what to do, the roar of the storm still loud outside preventing you from leaving, but the awkwardness of being practically naked with Aemond in this abandoned cabin also didn't let you relax.

You should have stayed one more day in Riverrun.

"Sit down before you freeze in that position, niece." Aemond grunted, leaning his head against the wall and closing his violet eye. "Come here by my side and warm up." His words could have been interpreted as concern for you if he hadn't said it so bored. But he was right, you would really end up freezing like that. With your arms still covering your breasts, you moved closer until you crouched down and sat next to him, keeping a safe distance of course.

You stood there in total silence for a long time, long enough for you to feel your hair starting to dry. He still has his eyes closed - maybe even sleeping - and you're staring at the flames slowly consuming the pieces of wood. You had the urge to go see Merax many times during this period, but you held back. He was a full-grown dragon, he knew his way around much better than you.

Hearing the creaking of wood between the flames you glanced sideways at your unwanted companion, watching the adam's apple rise and fall slowly as he swallowed once, his hair a bit disheveled now as it began to dry without the aid of a brush, his arms supported on both bent knees. Oh, the defined muscles of his arms, firm forearms with prominent veins.

You really needed to go.

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond would also stare at you when you weren't paying attention, watching the way you hugged your knees to your chest, the way you rested your head on them as you stared into the flames. Your half-dry hair rebels around your face, your eyes reflecting the fire's flames, your smooth skin flushed...

There was a tension between the two of you, and that tension increased with every second you were trapped in this cabin.

You turned your head again to look at him, but this time you found him with his eye open, already looking at you. The shock of seeing his violet eye glowing with the firelight was so great that you sighed and couldn't take your eyes off it.

"What were you doing in the Riverlands?" He asked slowly, not taking his eye off yours.

You knew this moment would come. Two rivals trapped under the same roof without trying to get information from each other? It was impossible to remain like this for long.

"You know very well what I went to do, uncle." You said lifting your chin in defiance.

"Hmm." He said still very calm, looking you up and down, making you feel uneasy. "I was planning to pay a visit to the Riverlands myself soon." His voice sounded superb, as if he knew he had more to offer than you. It irritated you.

"I find it difficult for Lord Tully to consider a better offer than marrying his eldest son to a Targaryen, his grandchildren will have dragons and his son will be King consort once I am Queen, as I am in the line of succession to the Iron Throne." You said it loud and clear, daring him to retort.

In fact you never boasted about being in the line of succession to the throne. You were, unfortunately, a year older than Jacaerys, being your mother's rightful heir and therefore next in line. But unlike your brother, you didn't want to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You never made a point of reminding anyone of that. But the pleasure of finally getting a thrill out of Aemond, seeing his pupil dilate at your words and his jaw tense, made it worth using your ace up your sleeve.

"Are you engaged to the Tully boy?" He repeated his words slowly, as if he was struggling to keep calm.

You didn't think that would be the part he would fixate on. The question of who would sit on the Iron Throne was the point you imagined your two discussion would focus on.

"First of all, he's not a boy. Lord Edward Tully is a man. And yes, I'm engaged to him. Not that it concerns you, dear uncle." You said the last part muttering, turning your attention to the flames of the bonfire.

"You're fighting to be the fucking Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and you intend to have a scum of Tully for a husband? Is that serious?!" He looked angry, his words carrying a weight that left you shivering and alert.

"What does it matter to you who will be my husband, Aemond?" You said standing up, which he responded by standing up too. His height intimidated you, but you would never let him see it. "This is war, in case you haven't noticed! We need allies. I know even you understand that, since your visit to Storm's End wasn't just to offer pompous words to Lord Borros, or to threaten my brother in a stupid pursuit, I suppose." In your rage you forgot the indecency of your clothes and dropped your hands in front of your body, only realizing it when Aemond lowered his heated gaze to your breasts.

You tried to cross your arms again, but he was faster. Aemond took you by the arm and shoved you hard into the wall, your head banging uncomfortably on the weathered wood. But you didn't have time to think about that because Aemond's tall, hot body was soon on top of yours, pinning you down. The heat of his bare chest against you, one of his hands resting on the wall beside your face, the other cupping your chin. His face coming too close to yours, too close.

You feared what he would do to you now. You were at a disadvantage here, your dagger still stuck in your pants, now drying away from you. Your recklessness in letting your guard down near the enemy could cost you dearly.

His chest pressed your body even closer to the wall, the two of you so close it would be hard for even a hair to get between you. His mouth went to your ear, his hand still gripping your jaw tightly.

"You're shaking so much, princess." He said slowly against the sensitive skin of your ear, the soft brush of his lips and hot breath sending an intense shiver through your body. You had no answer to his statement. "humm" he let out an amused growl against your neck as he dragged his nose along your skin. "You know, a princess like you deserves better than a shitty marriage to a miserable lord." He said before licking your neck, making you sigh and instinctively recoil at the unexpected sensation. This was so wrong.

"I don't understand… Why do you care so much about this? Why now?" Your fragile voice leaving your throat as you felt him leave a mark on your skin. Your hands went to his shoulders, feeling his skin tight and warm. Your intention was to push him away from you, but Aemond chose that moment to push a knee between your legs, which made you cling to him instead of pushing. He forced you to spread your legs to accommodate his between yours. Even though you had every reason in the world to refuse, you found yourself leaving.

"You've always been a fierce little thing, haven't you? Always speaking your mind and chasing what you want." He lifted his head from your neck to stare at you, even as his knee pressed against the sensitive spot between your legs, the damp fabric of his pants rubbing against your most intimate area. "But not with me. You've always treated me well, even defending me when I needed to." He caressed your nose with his, thumb circling your cheek. "I will not let any lord take what was always rightfully mine." The last words whispered into your mouth before he pulled your into his.

You knew this was wrong, he was a threat to you and your family. He was arrogant and stubborn. Your brother had almost died because of him. He thought you were nothing but a bastard.

You knew all this. And yet, you found yourself responding to the kiss.

Aemond's slightly chapped lips touched yours with purpose, after all he wasn't one for subtlety. His mouth devoured yours hungrily, forcing you to part your lips for air, and at that moment his tongue invaded your mouth. You stood on tiptoe to facilitate the kiss, one hand holding his neck and the other going to the back of his head, where you grabbed some of the damp hair and tugged. The hoarse groan he released into your mouth electrified you, left you hungry for more. You could barely breathe, the way he licked your mouth, encouraging your tongue to dance with his, making you dizzy with need.

Heavens, the frustrated experience of kissing the baker's son definitely didn't compare to this.

Aemond's big hands went under your shirt, gripping your waist and forcing your body to rub against his leg, nearly making you straddle his thigh. You pulled away from the kiss and slammed your head against the wood behind you, closing your eyes and moaning as you felt your clit brush hard against the rough fabric of his pants. Almost to the point of hurting, but it only served to turn you on even more.

You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles and watching him shiver as you dragged your nails across his abdomen. His forehead pressed against yours, his violet gaze never leaving yours as he breathed faster. Grinning mischievously you continued your hand down until you touched the big bulge inside his pants, closing your hand around it. Aemond growled into your lips as you gasped in surprise at the size of him.

He suddenly pushed his way between your bodies to unbutton his pants and pull his cock out, always looking at you. Grabbing your buttocks he pulled your body up until you wrapped your legs around him. You moaned loudly as you felt him drag his hard cock against your soaking pussy, up and down, dragging hot skin against your clit.

"I want to hear you moan my name, love. Say who's making you feel good." His voice was husky and slurred as he kissed your ear.

"A-Aemond..." You sighed, moaning each time you felt the hot head of his cock nudging your sensitive clit. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over your head, leaving your breasts visible to him.

"Look at this love, and you want me to accept that this is going to belong to another man?" He growled and lowered his head to lick your nipple, holding it in his mouth and swirling his tongue. You tried to move your hips faster, but Aemond had an iron grip on you, forcing you to accept what he gave.

"Aemond, please more…more…" You begged, tugging at the root of his hair, trying to get him to look at you. He released your breasts and looked at you, his violet iris being almost entirely dark with need.

"Look at this, love, look at our bodies together, where they belong…" He whispered, forcing you to look at where his cock rose and fell against your intimacy. "Fuck baby, you're so wet. It must be fucking heaven inside you." He growled without taking his eyes from the junction of your bodies, just like you. The eroticism of the situation making you cringe in need around nothing.

"But I won't." He said and you felt euphoric, desperate to think he would deny you that. "I'm not going to take your virginity in a ramshackle tent, baby. No, I'm going to fuck you for the first time in a bed, damn, how the spoiled fucking princess you are deserves to be fucked." He continued to rub his cock into you, making you clench your legs in anticipation of the coming orgasm, your moans getting louder. Your arousal was such that his cock slid easily between your folds. "So be a good girl and come on my cock right here, now, love." He said continuously slamming his cock into your clit, sending you straight into a spiral of pleasure. Your needy moan sounded loud in the cabin as your body shook, your pussy contracting rhythmically with nothing inside, your hands gripping Aemond's hair tightly.

He laughed breathlessly, ecstatic to see your fall and allowing himself to fall too. Thick, white cords of come painted the skin of your belly, running down to your pussy as he moaned hoarsely. Aemond smeared as much of his seed as he could on your body, the knowledge that you were going to go home with his dry cum under your clothes driving him crazy.

Your legs were still shaking as he sat on the floor with you still on his lap, your mouths meeting in a wet, slow kiss. Your bodies now wet with sweat instead of rainwater.

You leaned your forehead against his, trying to control your ragged breathing. Aemond kissing the contours of her jaw and neck with a caress you'd never expect from him.

The whole experience had been surreal for you. The fact that you'd been trapped in an abandoned cabin with your uncle, argued, and that argument had led to the two of you committing such a blatant act of obscenity, horrified you now. But at the same time you were ecstatic to have done the craziest thing of your life. You were always a rule breaker, there was no denying it.

But the war between the family was still going on, you knew. This interaction between the two of you could go nowhere.

"What are you thinking, princess?" Aemond saw your expression change, he knew you were trapped in your own emotions. His big hand cupped your face and pulled your lips down for a gentle kiss.

"That doesn't change a thing, Aemond. I'm still going to marry Edward Tully, I hope you know that." You said, trying to convince not him but yourself too.

Aemond frowned, his expression suddenly dark. But he soon masked it with a sly, wicked smile.

"That's what we'll see, niece."

⸸ Eyes on Me — The Silent Orchestra ⸸

(An AU of Lobotomy Corporation where I made as many Abnormalities into aesthetically pleasing humanoids as possible, so OOC and fanon are to be expected. Inspired by my personal experience playing with these fuckers ladies and gentleman for the first time.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mentions of other Abnormalities like the Crumbling Armor, WhiteNight, [Censored], and Nothing There as humanoids. MC knows nothing about classical music.

Pairing: [Insert!MC] x T-01-31

Word Count: 2200 <

Description: The Silent Orchestra was born to be praised. To be loved. To hear the applause of anyone that stumbles upon them. But to guarantee the survival of the facility's entire personnel, it is detrimental that agents must deprive them of that privilege. No matter how deserving, no matter how tempted they are to scream and applause with madness...

...The Conductor must never see their soul.

Warning: general yandere themes (obsession), gore

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

The moment the Manager chose to contain T-01-31, the entire facility was bound to fall into break and ruin.

Agent [Name] was in the middle of doing Instinct work on O-05-61 when the warrior suddenly spoke to them.

"Go. Your strength is needed elsewhere." With a wave of his hand, a blue flame began flickering around [Name], sparking a new kind of vigor within them. And just like that, the door behind them slid open.

But before they ran out of the containment unit, they made sure to bow in gratitude.

Sure, it was just something the Abnormality did for those he found worthy, but it was still a nice gesture.

Some personnel had reported feeling wary or anxious around O-05-61. Some said that they felt something akin to a thin line being tightly wrapped around their neck around him. But for [Name], they only ever felt warm, safe, around the warrior, and with the blue flames engulfing them, that sensation didn't disappear, even as they traversed further and further away from O-05-61's containment unit.

Not long after, the Manager immediately ordered them to go to the Central Communications Department. Suppression Work.

[Name] could only assume the worst had happened. That an ALEPH-class Abnormality had breached.

...But who?

It couldn't have been Nothing There nor [CENSORED]. There were dead bodies, yes. A lot of them in fact, but it was too...clean. It was a word they never thought they would use to describe a massacre, but it was true. It lacked the barbarity and unrestrained violence that [Censored]'s unique killing style had. That Abnormality left entrails and mangled remains in its wake, leaving no surface untouched by blood.

But it couldn't have been Nothing There's either. The Assimilator left wounds too large to be from a human weapon. Besides, it favoured short-distance weapons; the scythe and mace in particular. These corpses had bullet wounds.

[Name] couldn't help but feel their heart sink. This was obviously a massacre committed by humans.

All the while, [Name] could hear it, the absolute chaos that was currently the CC Department. It was a tumult of horrified screams and the mad ramblings of agents on a murderous rampage. But even through it all, they could sense it.

The music of the end.

It thrummed through their bones, sending vibrations down their spine. It was as if the very sound was trying to encroach their mind.

By the time [Name] reached the Central Communications Department, they were greeted by absolute chaos. Beneath the sharp howls of violins and flutes, and the angry growls of brass instruments, they found their fellow agents.

The panicking ones were out on a murderous rampage, their eyes crazed with bloodlust as they hacked and slashed at anything that moved, but some were just sitting on the ground, staring catatonically at nothing. Then, there were those who were still sane, struggling to stay intact.

And at the midst of it all was the perpetrator.

He looked tall and proud as he stood there on a platform with his players. His hands gracefully motioned about, waving some sort of stick. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be made from the ivory of bones.

At first, [Name] thought it was WhiteNight, but no. If it was, she should have heard the bells before she even left 0-05-61's containment unit. This was...was this the new Abnormality?

The brass were getting louder, overpowering the soft chords of the strings, until eventually, all slowed to quietness.

But the performance wasn't over yet.

[Name] took this opportunity to land their killing blow. The man—Abnormality had their back turned to them. He was completely engrossed in whatever he was doing. Directing the Orchestra? But there was nothing else in front of him other than four women in white, all of whom only played violin and...whatever the bigger violins are called. Didn't they only need the stick-man for a large group of players?

Like WhiteNight, it was a mystery where music was coming from. Quite possibly, this Abnormality had a unique ability that negated the need for physical instruments. That was probably what its little stick was for.

Carefully, they aimed their gun for his head. Sure, a rifle from Der Freischütz won't kill them like it would a human, but it is a humanoid. Surely, a shot to the head would stop him even for just a second?

"S-stop."

A weak, raspy voice halted them. [Name] looked down at the ground beside him and realized the Agent was still alive. Immediately they knelt down. Not to help her, but so they could hear her better.

"How did everyone die?" Information was more important than anything else right now. Their survival relied on being able to avoid whatever killed their colleagues.

"The...music." She began hacking up blood. It took a while before she was able to breathe fine again. "It drove everyone mad."

"Then how come you're still alright?"

"I'm a senior. The lower-ranks weren't able to withstand it. What level are you?"

"Three...I think I have enough Prudence. And fortitude."

"Save it. You think you'll be able to take down that thing on your own? My entire team was decimated by that monster." Her rage seeped through their teeth like the blood on her chin. But beneath it all, they could see grief. Pain.

"Wait for back up, at least. Or hope that this day will be over soon, and you can leave this hell hole to be cleaned up by someone else."

That was...true. The departments from the upper levels were probably still harvesting energy. If that was true, then they should be reaching the daily quota soon.

But that was hopeful thinking. They might finish the day, but would they be able to make it until then?

"God damn, this is what I hate about this job," she angrily spat out, blood mixed with saliva dripping down her chin. "You'll never know what you're dealing with until its out killing all of your colleagues."

"What do you think its defenses are?"

She blinked, trying to recall, but with her blood loss, that seemed like a tremendous task. "I...I don't know. At first, no one could hurt it, but Emily with the Black weapon was able to hurt it for a while. But then, it just stopped working. After that, that awful noise began to ring in my ears, and everyone suddenly went crazy." Tears began to pool in her eyes. "I think...it became immune to damage altogether."

[Name]'s eyes couldn't help but widen.

Immune to damage..? That's..! That shouldn't be possible! If nothing could hurt them, then—

They turned to look back at the pale man. Beside them, they heard the dying Agent chuckle roughly. "What the hell is the Manager going to do about this?"

What the hell, indeed. If it can't be hurt, then was suppressing this thing even possible?

The music became more and more dynamic, probably nearing its finale, until finally, the clanging of metal and abrupt bellows of trumpets warned the descent of the grand finale.

A...flute? Oboe? Whatever it was, it began playing a soft sound similar to a rooster's crow in the morning. And as it did so, the women in white shook their fingers in a way that made the strings tremble.

When it finally did, [Name] thought they could relax...but they knew there were consequences for this.

They failed.

That was when every single person in the room began to laugh, scream, and cry in joy. Except for their senior. The agent beside them only clutched their head, nails digging harshly through their temples.

"What's wrong? Ma'am?"

She began to scratch, the soft skin easily peeling off from the unrestrained force.

"Make it stop make it stop make it STOP!"

[Name] could only watch helplessly as their senior kept banging her head against the floor. They tried to restrain her, but they only wound up with deep scratch marks on their arms. Their weapon might kill her, but knocking them out with the butt of their rifle would be worth it. But just as they were about to do it, all the lights in the department died out.

That was when when they heard the explosions.

All around them, [Name] heard their final cries of anguish before it all ended spectacularly with a bang. It was as if someone had shot them to end their suffering, but...

They touched the blood that splattered onto their face. It was still warm. Rubbing it between their fingers, they felt little chunks of meat and shards of bone.

What kind of gun could...did Der Freischütz shoot his magical bullet?

But that didn't make sense. His bullets never miss. Once he shoots, it hits everything in its way. They should be dead right now.

Their questions were answered soon enough when the emergency lights began to flicker an ominous red throughout the entire facility.

For a split second, they saw it. The corpses lying on the ground. The twisted bouquet of brain mush, eyes, and skull shrapnel where their heads should be.

They could only stand there, shocked. It was only a fracture of a second, but they were already closing their eyes, unwilling to see more.

'Maestro...it seems like one of them made it 'till the finale.'

They heard an airy voice speak, likely from one of the women in white.

Eyes still shut, [Name] could only listen to the clacking of shoes against the CC Department's polished floors. It grew closer, and closer until stopping in front of them. Just a little, they opened their eyes to see.

All they saw was the white of his shirt, the delicate black ornamentations on his tailcoat, and the fine weaving of his cravat. Even amidst all the gore and blood, he somehow remained untouched, unsullied.

The false purity reminded them of WhiteNight, and it made them sick.

[Name] refused to look up. They would have closed their eyes again if it weren't for how angry they felt. From their peripherals, they could still see the aftermath, and now, they couldn't stop looking at it.

The fact that something could kill, cause absolute chaos, and still remain clean, spotless, or act as if they have done no wrong...it made their blood boil.

"Maestro, perhaps she is deaf."

"Or crass. Trashy Another rubble in the heap."

"They must be for not appreciating the marvel they just witnessed!"

A sharp giggle pierced their ears. "Ladies, please. Let's be considerate. We must understand that not everyone has the same refined tastes as us."

At that, all the women began to giggle as if one of them had just said something clever.

[Name] had to grit their teeth at all the insults the airy-voiced women threw at them. She would soon rather go deaf than praise any of these plastic-faced pricks.

What were they even talking about? What did their hearing or taste in music have to do with this?

The Agent was glaring at them when she suddenly felt a cold hand pull their chin away from their direction, forcing them to look at the pristine face of the man. Half of his face looked human.

Well, as human as Abnormalities could look. His skin was as white as the fine fabric of his clothes. It was almost difficult to see the thin line between his true face and the porcelain mask that covered half of it.

His mask's eye was pure black, forever crinkled by the perpetual smile on its black-painted lips. But his true face, the one uncovered, was unsmiling. Dispassionate. Determined.

But for what?

The women immediately hushed upon noticing his solemnity. [Name] could feel their black beady eyes watching them, as if anticipating what their master would do next.

"Maestro, please. Let's not waste our time!"

"I agree! They aren't worth your salt!

"Ladies," the one with the terrible laugh cut in, but this time, there was no disdain in her words. Only stern assertion. "Remember your station. If the Maestro says so, then we follow."

What in the world are they even talking about? He hasn't said a word at all this entire time? Was all the Agent could think.

"Consider yourself lucky, human," a different woman, the one with the...dot with a wavy line drawn on her left cheek said.

Now that [Name] was looking at them, they noticed that all the women had symbols drawn on their cheek, and just like their 'maestro', they all wore porcelain masks. But unlike him, theirs covered their faces entirely.

"Our Maestro is planning another performance. Just. For. You~"

"After all..." One of the women leaned back on their chair. With her chin still pointing up, it was clear she was looking down on them. "...the show doesn't end unless we hear the applause. As such, the Maestro wishes to see you on our next performance."

"We will be looking for you."

And, just like that, all the lights in the facility turned back on. [Name] winced, blinded by the brightness. By the time their eyes adjusted, the ensemble had gone, vanished.

That day, they were busier than usual. Much to everyone's despair, they couldn't end since T-01-31's breach had completely depleted their enkephalin sources. Even the ones that the facility needed to run. Many other Abnormalities breached because of the power outage.

Not long after, the ensemble's entries were updated.

ALEPH-Class, T-01-31.

The Silent Orchestra.

.

.

.

~~~~~~~ End ~~~~~~~

"Every song has a heart, and a heart, its own melody. By now, you should know his." - T-01-31's Redrafted Entry

This definitely won't be my last snippet on him. No, this is just the first movement~

love lost - aemond targaryen.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader.

warnings: mentions of rape.

summary: you are forced to see Aemond after six long years much to your dismay after finding out you are still to be wed to him.

word count: 2200+

a/n: reader is adopted by Rhaenyra and Daemon. I personally couldn't force myself to write such direct incest lol.

(X)

An incessant ringing sounds in your ears, a mild throbbing in the back of your head signalling the start of an oncoming headache as your mother Rhaenyra reaffirms what you had most hoped no longer stood.

“No, no, no,” you mumble in your seat, shaking your head in denial and pushing your palms into your eyes.

“I thought-,” you cut yourself off, leaning back in your chair and pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I thought when we left King’s Landing that my betrothal to Aemond Targaryen would be null and void.”

“Now, why would you think that?” Daemon raises a barely visible brow at you.

“Because it’s been six years!” you argue, fixing your sharp gaze on your parents.

“Six long years since we’ve left King’s Landing and not once was there mention of my betrothal to him. One would naturally assume that it ceases to exist especially when another was put forward. Albeit he is not longer but, that's not the point. Now, suddenly because we have to go back, I’m to find out that I am still to be wed to that halfwit.”

“That halfwit is to be your husband,” Daemon mocks.

Your cheeks burn in anger, but you say nothing to him, knowing it would get you nowhere. Instead, you intentionally turn your now softened gaze to Rhaenyra in the hopes of garnering some sympathy from her for she knew what it was once like to be in your position.

“Mother, please,” you plead but, your gaze hardens just as quickly as it softened when she’s blocked from your view by Daemon.

“That’s enough. You like your siblings will do your duty to this family. So be it if that duty means marrying Aemond Targaryen then that is your duty and that is the end of this conversation.”

-

You sigh heavily into your drink, eyes downcast and watching the amber liquid slosh against the glass of your cup as you swivel it around in your grip. The false niceties for the sake of your adoptive…. Grandfather? Uncle? You weren’t sure what to call him since your mother married Daemon but, the false niceties had taken its toll and you simply couldn’t feign friendliness any longer as you sat beside your betrothed who’d been ignoring you all night.

“Is there a problem?” Aemond bites out, head turning to finally acknowledge you.

“Yes,” you sigh dramatically into your drink for what you think to be the hundredth time that night.

Swivelling the cup one last time, you drain it of its remaining liquid then place it on the table, laying your hand flat at its base and looking back at Aemond. You narrow your eyes at him, briefly mimicking the look of annoyance on his face which is met with a scowl. While he scowls at you, you take the time to study his features, observing all the way in which his face had changed since the last time you saw him in Driftmark.

Your relationship with Aemond hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when the prospect of being married to one another was all the two of you had wanted. Of course, things had changed when you had steadfastly stood by your brothers (and at the time, cousins) the night Aemond lost his eye. Perhaps you were to blame for the downfall of the relationship between you two - many did say you should've stood by him. But then you remembered his promise.

“You are the problem,” you groan.

You probably wouldn’t be so bold if you hadn’t been steadily becoming more wine drunk with little to no filter standing between your thoughts and your mouth and if Aemond wasn’t irritated with you before, you were certain he was now. What was otherwise a handsome face marred by the ugly twist of his mouth. If looks could kill…

He says nothing right away, his face relaxing back into the cool expression he seemed to always wear nowadays, and you steel yourself for whatever insult he’s sure to throw at you but, it doesn’t come.

Your… conversation interrupted by a hand being placed over your own on the table, and you sober immediately, skin crawling at the older Targaryen boy. You had made it a point to avoid him the entire night, well aware of his indecencies. But, as Helaena danced with your younger brother, Aegon had you cornered between himself and Aemond and if Aemond’s behaviour towards you tonight was anything to go by, he would be of no help.

“Y/N,” Aegon practically coos at you, and it takes everything for you to stop yourself from vomiting all the wine you had drunk, on him.

“Aegon,” you speak with a clipped tone.

Instead of being deterred by your lack of response, Aegon takes it upon himself to drag his chair closer to you. You don’t realise you were moving too until your chair knocks into Aemond’s, your own knee knocking into his thigh. If Aegon could sense your revulsion, he didn’t show it. Although you were sure the depraved boy was likely finding joy in it.

“It’s been so long. Had I known you would blossom into such a beautiful young thing who enjoyed indulging in the cup as much as I did, I might have asked that your hand be given to me instead of young Aemond’s here,” he caresses your hand between both of his.

“Although I hear my brother is in the business of making people who are not him in your life disappear,” he chuckles, eyes flickering to Aemond.

“And if you were not my brother, I would make you disappear too,” Aemond grins. “Now remove your hands from Y/N or I will remove them from you.”

You groan in disgust, standing abruptly in your chair. Perhaps you should've been grateful for Aemond's defence but, it only served as a reminder of what he had done in the past. The sound of the chair’s scrapes are lost amongst the noise, everyone else too engrossed in their own doings to know what was happening at your end of the table and, you use it to your advantage to sit yourself amongst your younger siblings.

“Seven hells,” you exhale loudly, slumping in your new seat.

“Not having fun, sister?” Luke asks, filling your cup for you.

You nod in gratitude, taking the cup in hand, “oh brother, you have no idea.”

Leaning closer to him, you speak low enough for only your siblings to hear, “let’s just say I would give an eye to be anywhere else but here.”

Laughter erupts amongst you all, catching the eye of Aegon and briefly Aemond but, the night carries on. Everything fine for a few more moments until all hell broke loose with Aemond’s final tribute.

-

The quiet of the Red Keep during the night is a stark contrast to its bustling nature throughout the day. The only sounds being the echo of your shoes on the stone pavements as you navigate the secret passageways back to your room. The long walk much needed to clear your thoughts after the turn supper had taken and then the argument with your mother and Daemon that followed.

While you thought the obvious outcome would be to call off your betrothal to Aemond after the insults flung at your brothers, your mother thought otherwise with the seeming resurgence of her friendship with Alicent.

The heavy door creaks on its hinges and closes with a dull thud as you try but fail to be quiet, hoping that no one in your family would hear it from their rooms. But that becomes the furthest thing from your mind when Aemond Targaryen is sitting in front of the fireplace of your room.

“I do believe you have a fireplace in your own rooms,” you quip.

Crossing the room to the large bed, you finger at the night gown laid out by your handmaidens – all of them now gone to bed due to the late hour.

“It’s dangerous enough as it is to be wondering the grounds of the Red Keep during the hour of the owl and yet you also insist on doing it alone,” he scolds from where he sits, gaze fixed intensely on the flames and ignoring your earlier comment.

You breathe a short laugh.

“and yet,” you mock. “I wasn’t alone, was I?”

Turning to face him, he’s already looking back at you as your fingers close around the end of the bedframe.

“Mmm… someone has to look out for you.”

“Is that what you call it?” you narrow your eyes at him, fingers now tapping irritably against the wooden frame.

“If you have something to say… say it,” Aemond taunts.

You open your mouth ready to fire back but, hesitate. In your sober state, you were able to actually hold a conversation but, you didn’t hold the same bravado you did earlier in the evening and quite frankly you just wanted to sleep. You roll your eyes, turning your back on him and sweeping your hair over your shoulder.

“Help me undress, my handmaidens have gone to bed,” you call him over.

You wait patiently, tension thickening as he gets closer, each step heavy and purposeful. When his fingers brush at the hair at the base of your neck, goosebumps spread across your skin.

“You anger with me is misplaced,” Aemond mutters gruffly.

He begins to undo the back of your dress, trying to focus on being careful in undoing the intricate design that holds it together and not your exposed skin.

“I hardly think so after what you did at supper earlier tonight.”

“Tonight?” he tuts, his hand pausing to graze the partially exposed skin of your back. “Tonight, is not why you’re angry with me.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his touch. You want to protest but, have no energy to. It would be a losing fight anyway because he’s right, it wasn’t why you were angry with him but, saying it out loud made you feel silly. When you don’t respond, Aemond continues.

“Between the two of us, if anyone should be holding onto anger and grudges it should be me. You did lie about what happened that night Luke took my eye,” he reminds you.

“I made amends for that,” you defend.

“I know. Sapphires. Which I’ve grown quite fond of.”

Sapphires indeed, ones you had sent him in various shapes and sizes in place of his eye. An apology without apologising.

Turning to face him, you place a hand on his chest, the other reaching for his eyepatch. You don’t worry about your dress or dignity, knowing that he hadn’t undone enough of it for it to fall.

You wait for him to pull away from your touch, but he doesn’t. You allow your hand to gently touch the leather eye patch, waiting a beat before finally removing it.  The scar might’ve been hideous on any other face and, it is hideous but, it doesn’t do anything to take away from his appearance. He certainly doesn’t look the beast that so, many claim.

“I loved him truly,” you drop your hands to your side. “the last one that you took from me. He made me happy.”

“Your happiness with him was fleeting,” he utters, eyes trained on you as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand trails down to your cheek, caressing softly before it continues its journey along your jawline and finally resting at the base of your neck.

“So, you can stop feigning anger with me.”

“How did we get here?” you mumble, searching his eyes.

The tension suffocates the two of you. Aemond’s breath fanning across your lips and, you don’t even know when he got so close. His lips ghost yours and you involuntarily lean into him but, you're held back by his hand that has snaked its way from the front of your neck to the back.

“We loved one another once. We will learn to love one another again,” and with that Aemond closes the distance between your lips.

The kiss is desperate but tender and, he holds you to him like he will never let you go.

For all that he has done, promises that he made to ensure that you would not be happy after undeniably going against him, he still carries a torch for you – his love is not lost and when you kiss him back with as much urgency and fervour, he knows your love for him is not either.

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

© bookofbonbon 2022. All rights reserved.

loving you keeps me alive - reader x ghost!dainsleif, 4.4k

your little house in monstadt is cheap, and though there are rumours about why … you ignore them, much as you ignore the whispers that something is not quite right. instead, you think about the night-time; and the handsome blond man who comes to you in dreams.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. dubious consent. yandere behaviour, somnophilia, stalking, self-hate (dainsleif towards himself), haunting, non-consensual touching. cunnilingus, piv sex. manipulation, deaths mentioned in passing. jealousy. reader is afab, but no pronouns or gendered terms are used.

[a/n: my kinktober masterlist can be found here. dain my soggy soggy beloved]

Dainsleif doesn’t think he really remembered what living felt like, until you moved in. 

Not that you can call this strange in-between existence ‘living’ - his time as a true mortal has long since passed. But as Celestia has cursed him to not move on … he has spent his years and centuries since then haunting these same four walls, unable to pass the doorway without finding himself bent over in pain. He has grown to know every plank of wood that makes up the little home in Monstadt - every creaking floorboard, the step on the stairs the landlord has replaced no less than three times because tenants kept simply putting their foot through.

Oh, others have tried to make this their home.

But Dainsleif values his privacy, and uses what little power he still has left to ensure that they do not stay for long.

Keep reading

Persuasion

Summary: Aemond protects those he cares about ruthlessly. You are no exception. So he will have the truth, or someone’s head. Maybe both.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Overprotective Aemond. Edging. Orgasm denial. Oral sex. Breeding kink (implied)

Word count: 2k

“Do not tell Prince Ameond.”

“Do not worry, my lady. My lips are sealed,” Grand Maester Mellos bowed lightly, gathering his ointments and bandages.

“Do not tell Prince Aemond what?”

By the door frame stood Prince Aemond Targaryen, arms crossed, and a dangerously calm look on his face.

Maester Mellos knew better, and Aemond’s seemingly composed demeanor was not to be trifled with.

The old man froze in place, glaring at the young prince as if he’d suddenly grown a third arm.

Clearing his throat, he greeted with a bow. “Prince Aemond… welcome back.”

He turned his eye to you. “I’m waiting.”

You huffed in annoyance, knowing far too well that he would turn something trivial into an unnecessary ordeal.

Because as far as Aemond Targaryen was concerned, your safety was paramount, and he would not have it any other way.

“Thank you, Maester Mellos,” you smiled warmly, trying to ease his nerves.

He merely hurried to make his way out, but Aemond barred the door, eyeing the man in front of him with a deadly stare.

“Aemond,” you called out, shifting to sit on your bed.

The Targaryen prince clicked his tongue, eventually stepping to the side. “Hmm.”

The poor old man was now visibly shaking, and nearly made a run for it once the pathway was made clear.

“That was uncalled for,” you half-scolded.

The door shut behind him, and he came to take a sit by your side, his face twisted into a serious expression. “What do you not want me to know, then.”

But before you could reply, his eye landed on your hands and you could swear you saw a hint of rage crossing his face.

“Who did this to you?” Poison coated his low voice, sending shivers across your spine.

He took your bruised hands in his, closely inspecting the damage to your knuckles.

It looked far worse than it felt. “I was sparring with Ser Criston. Just for fun,” you revealed, meeting his eye. “It was nothing much. This will heal soon.”

“He did this to you?” he sounded uncharacteristically… calm.

“No.”

Aemond’s tender fingers wrapped around your wrists, anger slipping through the cracks. “Then who?”

It would be much easier to give into the pressure, but you knew fully well that if you were to reveal who had been on the receiving hand of your fist, he’d simply storm out, not caring that the short amount of time you had to spend with with would be ruined.

“Let's forget about this for tonight,” you said, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I've missed you so much.”

Aemond rose to his feet, arching an eyebrow. “Should I go ask Maester Mellos, then? I’m sure he’d be much willing to talk.”

Rolling your eyes, you held him in place by tugging at his leather coat.

“Leave the poor man alone and fuck me instead.”

You pulled him towards you by his pants, slightly wincing as pain shot through your bruised hand.

“Tell me who it was.”

Deciding to ignore him, you parted you legs to accommodate him, resting your chin on his stomach. “Prince Aemond… I need you,” you pouted.

The hold you had on the young prince was such that had Queen Alicent fear that it might break her beloved son.

And nothing pleased you more than knowing you could bend him to your will with just the right amount of persuasion.

It didn't take long before he started panting lightly as you began caressing his crotch through the fabric, enjoying your touch and how you so skillfully and rapidly had his cock harden.

His eye fluttered shut, and he removed each layer of clothing from his body, until he got to his pants.

“Do not stare at me like that. I might lose it,” he groaned, bringing his thumb to caress your lips.

Your walls reflexively clenched around nothing, and you felt your clit swell in anticipation.

His toned torso gleamed of a faint mix of warm colours that emanated from the candles spread around you, and you couldn’t help to place the softest kiss on the think hair of silver that spread below his navel.

Aemond undid his pants to ease the tension on his cock before tossing the garment aside.

“Will you not tell me?” he asked, slowly dropping to his knees as your eyes were fixed on his thick and leaking cock.

With both hands on each thigh, he further spread you apart, dragging the fabric of your chemise up your legs, revealing your most intimate parts to his hungry gaze.

You knew what came next, and readied yourself by leaning back, supporting your weight with your arms.

Aemond pressed soft kisses up your inner thigh until he reached your folds.

He was staring intensely at you. “Last chance to tell me, my lady.”

You could feel his breath on you. “What does that mean…”

“Who hurt you?”

Aegon had been the one to meet your fist after he decided it would be smart to badmouth his brother in front of you. Not even Ser Criston Cole moved to defend the future king. He had deserved it.

But the last thing on your mind was Aegon and his ridiculous antics.

Aemond did not answer your question, as he pressed a kiss to your folds.

“How is it so swollen already?” he growled, parting your folds to reveal your throbbing clit. “Do you like me on my knees that much?”

He had such a way with words that you reckoned you might be pushed over the edge from the sound of his voice and lewd words.

You bucked your hips into him as you felt his tongue prodding at your entrance for a brief moment before he dragged it to lick your clit.

The sight of having the young prince hungrily eating you was enough to ignite the coil in your lower abdomen.

His tongue slipped inside you, as his nose was pressed against the sensitive bud, teasing it with each slurp.

“Right there… Gods…” you threw your head back in sheer pleasure.

The pressure on your lower half was such that you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Aemond…”

Just as you we were about to plunge into blinding bliss, you felt him draw away from you. The immediate loss of touch earning a strangled cry from you, your clit demanding attention again.

At first, you thought it was merely his intent do shift positions, so he could be buried deep within you and having your walls contract around him from your release.

However, by the time he was on top of you, dragging the thing underside of his cock along your folds, yet refusing to enter you, that’s when you realised something was off.

“Please… please…” you nearly yelled, wrapping your legs around his waist to increase the friction.

But Aemond paid no mind to your pleas, and kept rolling his hips while sucking gently on your neck.

The moment he heard your gasps getting louder and breathier, he halted, kissing away the tears that had started to flow from the overstimulation.

He lifted his hips as to avoid his cock from touching you at all, and you felt the urge to smack him.

“What are you doing,” you cried out, vision blurry and chest heaving rapidly.

He pressed his lips to your cheek in such adoration, that your heart skipped a beat.

“Do not underestimate my feelings for you,” whispered in a warning tone. “I would start a war for you.”

Others might brush that aside as an overstatement, but Aemond Targaryen did not utter empty threats.

That revelation sent you pushing your hips to his, urging him to have his cock on you once more.

Suddenly, his lips twisted into a mischievous smile, as he suddenly pinned your arms above your face.

You eyes widened in utter shock. “Aemond….”

“It seems we are in a bit of a predicament, lady wife,” he purred, lips nearly touching yours. “You seek release, but I shall not give it to you until you tell me who hurt you.”

At this, you tried to wriggle away from his grip. “Oh… fuck you!”

“I want that, too,” he said teasingly. “But first, you need to tell me a name.”

He chuckled at the evident agony in your eyes stilling your hips with other hand.

“And you will not be able to have your release by yourself without your hands,” he said, giving your wrists a squeeze. “Your choice.”

Your clit throbbed desperately in between your folds, craving his touch, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of his cock drippings strings of precum onto your abdomen.

He was just as desperate to have you, and you were perplexed that he had such self control.

Seeing that you refused to cooperate, he lowered himself into you, his cock pressed down on your clit as your folds enveloped it.

“Gods… just move…” you growled in despair, tugging at your hands in an attempt to break free from his grip.

Surprisingly, he did as you asked, rolling his hips slowly. You tried to mimic the motion just so you could get to your point of no return.

But Aemond knew your body too well. He knew exactly what made you tick, and how your body would respond.

He stopped moving at once, heaving a frantic wail from you as your release got put on hold once more.

“Aegon! I threw a punch at Aegon,” you blurted out in between sobs as your sensitive clit throbbed against his cock. “He was uttering nonsense about you and—”

“You punched my brother?”

You opened your eyes to see surprised on his face, with a hint of amusement. He then released the grip on your wrists and brought one of your hands closer to his face, rubbing your sore knuckles with his thumb.

“That’s my girl,” he laughed, planting a kiss on each knuckle. “You should have told me right away.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you would have gone after him. I want you here… with—”

He immediately cut you off with a burning kiss, and just as quickly, he angled his hips to bury himself inside you.

The overstimulation and denied releases had left your body so sensitive that it was as if everything stung and you had to bite your lip hard to muffle your cries.

He ground mercilessly into you, breaking the kiss and removing the eyepatch.

“Look at me.”

You were met with the sapphire in place of his left eye, and knew that he was close the moment his arms faltered, and he nearly collapsed on top of you, speeding up and gripping your hips as he pumped in a final broken rhythm.

Taking your face in your hands, you had your lips caress the long scar, knowing fully well he had grown used to you showing him how much you adore every single inch of him.

“So tight…” he groaned.

You then watched in marvel as his mouth fell open in a quick hiss as he stilled inside you, filling you to the brim.

Feeling his cock twitching inside you violently as he spilled his cum inside, drove you over the edge until your vision blurred in waves of colours, tearing the room with a sharp cry of pleasure.

Aemond managed to regain some composure as he lifted your lower half and placed a pillow underneath your backside.

“Stay like this for a while,” he said, slowly sliding out of you.

Your breathing came out in erratic pants and you felt him gently pushing inside some of the cum that had spilled with his fingers.

At this pace, it would not be long before your belly would start to swell with his child.

He caressed your face with his hand, as he brought his lips to press a loving kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Avy jorrāelan.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could return the gesture, Aemond slid off the bed, rapidly getting dressed.

“Where are you going?” you asked, shifting to your side, a gush of cum spilling from you.

“On my way to behead my dear brother.”

You groaned in exasperation. “Aemond!”

Title: Clingy.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Modern AU, Non/Con, Blood, Intimidation/Threats of Violence, Toxic Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Slight Financial Abuse, and Codependent Behavior.

On your third date, your boyfriend-at-the-time demanded that you give him a spare key to your ‘shitty shoebox of an apartment’, despite refusing to so much as let you into the penthouse Ei had leased for him while going to a university a hundred or so miles away from the multi-story, marble sculpted, beachside mansion he’d reluctantly flown you out to when he got sick of listening to you ask why he still hadn't introduced you to his moms eight months into your relationship. That probably should’ve been your first red flag, but somehow, you’d persisted. He brought out your competitive side, like that.

He made you want to dig your nails in, plant your teeth in your neck, and refuse to let go. It wasn’t good for you, but nothing he did was good for anyone. That never stopped him from doing it, though.

You could only assume that this – Kunikuzushi, your boyfriend of eighteen months and your ex-boyfriend of one, splayed across the couch in your living room, the keys he’d never given back dangling from his ring finger and the phone you’d forgotten when you left for work that morning in the other – wasn’t going to be good for you, either.

You didn’t say anything at first. It was all you could do to groan, to shake your head, to pretend you didn’t see him or didn’t care long enough to throw your messenger bag onto the nearest chair and tear off your jacket. He’d clearly made himself at home. A textbook was open on your coffee table, a drink from the cheap, trendy café he’d always whined about having to take you to sitting half-empty next to it. He wasn’t looking at either, though, his attention entirely centered on your phone. You didn’t have the energy to pretend to be surprised. He used to like to go through your conversations and delete the contacts he ‘didn’t trust’ when you were together, too, but you’d been more willing to write it off as the cute-but-concerning tick of a jealous boyfriend, back then. You must’ve fallen out of practice after your breakup.

You opened your mouth, but he was ultimately the one to break the silence. “You know Ajax?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“I mean, I know you’re in the same microbiology course, but c’mon, him? The fucker couldn’t tell a proton from a nucleolus. Honestly, I’m surprised he hadn’t flunked out yet. Give it another semester - he’ll be gone by spring, I promise.”

“I didn’t say you could come over.”

“I texted you last night. Did you try to block me again?” You’d blocked him, then reported his number, then changed yours when he’d started using burner phones to drunk dial you in the small hours of the morning and leave disjointed, rambling voice mails about how well he was doing without you, how much time he had now that you weren’t pestering him, how many people he’d slept with since the last time you'd seen each other. All of it was bullshit, obviously, but it was his bullshit. Somehow, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Scratch that – I’ll take care of it. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to get through a month without my help.”

You grit your teeth. Swallowing as much of your anger as you could, you stepped in front of him, snatching your phone out of his hands and retreating before he had a chance to take it back. You were tempted to look at what he’d been scrolling through, see which conversation had gotten him so upset, but you forced yourself to turn off your phone completely, to set it down on the far side of your coffee table and think about something else. It’d take hours to fix the damage he’d done, to unblock all the acquaintances he didn’t approve of and the apologize to all the friends he'd insulted under your name. You’d rather get rid of him first, then try to fix everything he'd already started to tear apart. “Get out.”

He scanned over you, his eyes lingering on the wrinkles in your button-up shirt, the cheap material of your dress pants. “Y'know, if we were still together, you wouldn’t have to put up with that shitty job. You could just quit and finally move in with me.”

Once, you’d let him buy you a new laptop when yours gave out in the middle of the semester and you didn’t think you’d be able to scrape enough up for another before you next exam. It’d been a used model, already a few years out of date, and you swore up and down that you’d pay him back when you had the money, but he’d held it over your head for months, smirked and gloated and taken every opportunity to remind you how grateful you should be to have a boyfriend so willing to spoil his oh-so-unfortunate partner. He hadn’t let you pay him back. He hadn’t let you pay for anything until he’d gotten tired of playing savior and went back to acting like a brat, too desperate for your attention to care if he was in-charge. You doubt he’d be any more bearable if you actually moved in with him, if you lived in his house and relied on his good-will. If you actually depended on him.

But, rather trying to say any of that in a way he’d understand, you sighed, clenching your eyes shut. “It’s an internship and I need it for my major. Get out.”

His scowl wavered. “When did you get so bossy? This isn’t going to work if you think you can tell me what to do.”

“I’m not bossy, you’re just a prick. Get out.”

He sat up, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Cut it out. I’m not going to want to get back together if you keep acting so immature.

“I don’t want to get back together with you.” And then, gesturing towards your door. “Get. Out.”

If nothing else, that seemed to shut him up.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, he responded. There was an airy laugh, a thin smile, a certain air of hurt disbelief as he sat up. “You really aren't kidding, are you?”

You didn’t indulge him with a reaction. Rather, you watched with a pressed scowl as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped toward you. He was in his usually ‘too cool to try, but too bored not to’ get-up – ripped jeans and long sleeves striped in black and violet, half a dozen rings and bolts pierced into the curve of each ear and a belt from a brand you couldn’t name, but knew you were supposed to tacked on to further feed into his ego. He must’ve been here all day. His short hair was more disheveled than he usually liked it to be, and you could see more irritation in his dark eyes than you were used to, paired with a certain type of frustration that only ever slipped out when you managed to keep him waiting. You hadn’t, technically (you couldn’t be late to meet someone who you didn’t want to see), but you didn’t bother trying to point that out.

“I thought it’d be nice to see you after… How long? Five weeks?” He glanced down, starting to toy with something in his back pocket. “I thought we could order lunch, talk for a while, maybe watch a movie or something. Then, I don’t know…” His smile took on an apologetic lull, almost pleading. “Kiss and make up? It’s not like any of this is new for us.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been together for a year and a half, and most of that had been spent caught up in ear-splitting, tear-inducing, world-ending fights. He’d burn the notes you borrowed from your classmate, and you'd refuse to talk to him for a week. You’d decide you were over his constant mood swings and go on a date with the cute guy from your calculus class, and he’d mail a slab of raw meat to your best friend because, in his own words, ‘you couldn’t come up with such a stupid idea by yourself’. It wasn’t balanced, you would never be able to give as much as he took, but still. When he started yelling, you did too, and when he showed up at your door a few days later, his eyes still bloodshot from crying, you always took him back. Because he was Kunikuzushi. Because you loved him.

Because you knew he’d make your life hell, if you didn’t.

Which was exactly why you couldn’t just… kiss and make up, this time. Not if it’d mean swallowing your pride and letting him get everything he wanted.

You sighed, but kept your arms crossed, your expression stern. “I’m tired, Kuni. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You paused, bit down on the side of your tongue. “It’s not good for either of us. We’re not good together. I don’t want to pretend that we are.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t fall. “What do you mean, babe?”

“I mean,” You braced yourself, shut your eyes. “I think you should leave.”

At least he seemed to hear that. You watched with as little sympathy as you could manage as his grin cracked and fell away, as his shoulders slumped downward, as he let out an airy chuckle that cracked halfway through. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“We broke up a month ago.” And he’s been insufferable ever since. “And we’re not getting back together.”

Parted lips, glassy eyes. He raked a hand through his bangs, doing what he could to blink away the tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t new, and yet, you still found yourself struggling not to break, not to embrace him and mutter soothing nothings while he sobbed quietly into your shirt and wrapped his arms around your waist and, inevitably, ended up on his knees, his face buried between your legs as he made you cum until you forgot why you’d been mad at him in the first place. “Fine. That’s fine. Honestly, that’s great. I don’t know why I’d ever want to be with such a heartless bit—” His voice broke before he could finish. He made a half-hearted effort to wipe at his eyes, but that only drew more attention to the tears starting to roll down his flushed cheeks, only made you more tempted to pull him into a kiss and act like this had never happened. “Fine. If you’re really that sick of me, I’ll go.”

He pushed past you, starting towards your door. That was what you wanted. Kunikuzushi gone, your apartment empty, your life just a little less fucked than it always seemed to be when he was a part of it. You should’ve let him go. You should’ve stood there until he was gone. You should’ve let him leave.

But you heard another hitched sob, a string of muttered swearing, and something in your chest broke open. With a shallow sigh, you dropped your arms to your sides, forcing yourself to speak through clenched teeth. “…do you want a hug before you leave?”

Kunikuzushi glanced over his shoulder. “A hug? What do you think I am, a toddler?”

“It's the only thing I'm putting on the table. Do you want it or—”

You never got the chance to finish. His arms were already around you, pinning your arms to your torso as he buried his face in your shirt. You choked back your protests, forced yourself to fight the instinct to push him away, and in a few excoriating seconds, his hold on you loosened, his back straightening, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder and his lips pressing into your neck. There was a lingering8 kiss laid onto your jugular, then another to the corner of your jaw, but you didn’t bother to try and push him away. Instead, you only shifted in his arms, nudging at his chest. You’d gotten yourself into this, called him back when he was a few steps away from leaving. You only had yourself to blame. “I didn’t say you could—”

“I knew you’d change your mind.” A hand fell to the small of your back, the heel of his palm pressing into the base of your spine. “You always do. You always make the right choice, in the end.”

You opened your mouth, ready to remind him that you weren’t taking him back, but you hesitated. He was always weird, just a little too hostile, just a little too desperate to keep you close to him, but you didn’t trust the levity in his voice, the way his smile pressed into your skin despite how close he’d come to crying a few minutes ago. “I think…” You trailed off, bit down on the side of your tongue. “I haven't changed my mind. You have to—”

Something flat and stiff pressed into your back – the blunt edge of a switchblade. His switchblade, you realized, dredging up hazy memories of bandages wrapped around thighs and hollow promises that he’d be more careful, next time. You heard his nails drum against smooth metal, felt something cold and sharp cut into the skin above your shoulder blade, and you froze, your mind instantly going blank.

He laughed, the noise cracking and airy. Warm breath fanned over the crook of your neck, and he melted into you, nuzzling into the curve of your throat. “I love you.” And then, pressing the blade into your flesh. “Say you love me too.”

Automatic, robotic. The only thing you could spit out through grit teeth. “I love you.”

Another laugh – more giddy, this time, more eager. If he noticed your reluctance, it clearly didn’t bother him. The switchblade was pulled up to the nape of your neck, then drawn in a loose arch to your collarbone, the tip never leaving your skin. “I mean, yeah, obviously. That’s why we get to stay together, even when we’re at each other’s throats.”

He paused, burrowed into you. In turn, you were dragged further into his chest, but pushed away just as quickly, allowed to get just far enough to make it possible for Kunikuzushi to raise his free hand to the collar of your shirt and drag you into a clumsy, rushed kiss – too rough and too forceful for anyone but him to enjoy. His teeth scraped against your lips, his tongue dragging over yours, but he pulled away with a breathy groan, his pale cheeks flushed and his eyes still glossed over. “…you didn’t get with anyone while I was gone, right? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

How could you? He hadn’t given you room to breathe, let alone get past anything more than a first date with someone new. Even when you’d been together (actually together, not fighting or on a break), he’d been so suffocating, so possessive, you’d never been able to get any further than heavy petting, oral, his body on top of yours and your legs wrapped around his waist before he said something you couldn’t brush off and the night devolved into something... less romantic. It was hard to be with someone like Kunikuzushi, someone who acted like they’d rather give up the air in their lungs than a second of your time. Even after a year and a half, it was hard to let your guard down around him when he seemed so willing to give you every reason you ever could've needed to keep it up.

You guessed you should’ve expected this, looking back on it. He’d was bound to get tired of waiting for you to trust him eventually.

This was just his way of letting you know that he’d never really needed you to, in the first place.

Stiltedly, you shook your head, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect. That’s why we’re supposed to be together.” He kissed the corner of your lips, then your forehead. “You’d never hurt me.”

He didn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he took you by the hand – his fingers intertwining with yours as he turned and tugged you forward, moving to lead you further into your apartment. The switchblade left your skin, falling momentarily to his side, and for a few brief seconds, you considered trying to get away, jerking yourself out of your hold and running as far away as you could get from him and his fucking issues. You made a passing effort, but Kunikuzushi’s grip turned crushing as soon as you began to shift, and you gave up before he could break something more vital than your heart. He was between you and the door, you and your phone. He had a knife, a weapon. He had you, and until he decided he was done, he wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

With little ceremony, you were drawn out of your living room and into your cramped bedroom. Kunikuzushi let go of your hand, but you didn’t have time to run before you were being pushed onto your unmade bed, before he was straddling your waist and pinning you to the center of the mattress. The knife was brought back to your neck, but quickly plunged lower, slid beneath your uppermost button and used to separate thread from fabric. Somehow, annoyance managed to overshadow your panic, if only for as long as it took for one rational thought to be followed by another. This was your nicest shirt, one of a handful you’d splurged on for your internship, but it wasn’t like Kunikuzushi would ever understand anything like that. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to, before.

The tip caught on the slight dip below your diaphragm and you winced, a few dots of red immediately seeping into white fabric. You winced, beginning to protest on reflex. “Kuni’, that—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Absentminded, only half conscious that he was speaking at all. He reached the hem, pulling his switchblade free and letting your dress shirt fall away from your chest and over your shoulders, as useless as it was embarrassing. “I’ll take care of everything when we’re done. Just sit pretty and keep your mouth shut for a while.”

Really, you could only wonder why you hadn’t dumped him sooner.

Your pants were next, slits carved into the material over your hips and ruined fabric torn away. He moved to cut off your boxers, too, but seemed to hesitate, to linger, to find the strength to pause just long enough to drag two fingers over your clothed slit and press the pad of his thumb into your clit. You hissed at the friction, but Kunikuzushi only smiled, dipping his head low enough for his lips to ghost over your collarbone, then the midline of your chest, then the tender spot just below your navel. The last was accompanied by a slight groan, throaty and deep. You did what you could to block it out. This would be better if you didn’t think about it, if you just imagined he was trying to win you back after a fight, that there was a wilting rose in his other hand and not a knife already stained with your blood.

It was almost a mercy when his hands finally slipped under the hem of your boxers, doing away with your last layer of protection with only a slight laugh and a lilting smile. You did what you could to relax, to lean back and close your eyes, but Kunikuzushi’s weight was an ever-present anchor to reality, only made worse as he shifted lower, as he pulled your legs apart and threw them over his shoulders. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into the inside of your thighs, his teeth ghosting over tender flesh as he sucked harsh bruises into whatever he could reach. This was his favorite part, by far. He’d always been clingy – possessive to the point of total, nail-biting, jaw-locking paranoia. At first, you’d been able to write it off as a sort of overeager enthusiasm that came with a new relationship, but he’d never stopped. He was always ready, always desperate to dig his teeth into your skin and leave as many marks as you’d let him – or rather, as many as he possibly could before you were able to pry him away. Even then, you’d tried to think of it as cute, just one of the quirks of your immature-but-loving boyfriend. Now, all you could do was hope it’d be over soon.

It took him full minutes to actually reach your cunt, for his tongue to lave over your slit. Instantly, you stiffened, clenching your eyes shut and attempting to ignore the heady sounds of his whimpering moans, the feeling of his tongue tracing patterns in your entrance. It was sloppy, messy, all drool and teeth and clutching hands, but warmth flooded into your core as the bridge of his nose ground into your clit, as his hands wrapped around your hips and dragged you that much closer to his mouth. Everything he did was dirty, but he knew you, knew your body, knew that you’d have to spread your legs as soon as his tongue thrust into you.

You arched your back as two fingers slid into your entrance alongside his tongue, scissoring you open while his attention shifted to your clit – his lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves while he sucked gently. If he hadn’t been so vocal, it might’ve been more bearable, but no, he couldn’t seem to stop whining into your cunt, to stop sending waves of those awful reverberations from your clit to your core every time he whimpered or grunted or moaned. Before you could stop yourself, your hips were rolling weakly against his mouth as he nursed you through your sudden climax. When you fell limp, his mouth fell away, but his hand still cupped your pussy, his fingers still curling and thrusting inside of you.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t let up, not until you were crying out and clenching around him, not until you could feel the slick running down your thighs, soaking into your sheets. He didn’t stop until you were babbling – spitting out incoherent pleas for him to slow down before the overstimulation turned from overwhelming to agonizing. You were forced to endure another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the wet sound of his tongue running over his fingers, but he pulled away in a few seconds, finally letting you have just enough space to breathe. Even that was temporary, cut short by his lips crashing into yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, as little as you wanted to. You could feel him panting against your lips, and it was all you could do not to scream.

He pulled away abruptly, grinning. “You’re a virgin.”

It wasn’t a question, but you found yourself shaking your head, denying it on instinct. “I never—"

“You didn’t have to.” There was a peck to the corner of your lips, another to your cheek. “I know everything about you. Your parents were too strict to let you date in high school, and none one’s ever lasted more than a couple of weeks with you before me. Since you wouldn’t so much as take off your shirt around me before our three-month anniversary, I’m going to assume you weren’t a total slut before we met.”

You narrowed your eyes, shoving gently at his chest. You just needed space. You just needed him to get away from you. “So?”

“So,” he leaned in, his smiling growing that much wider. “I’m going to ruin you.”

It was something about his tone, the dark glint in his eyes as he leered over you. Your heart dropped in your chest, and very distinctly, something very large and very sharp began to crawl up your throat.

You started to shake your head, but he was already edging jeans downward, already freeing his cock – the flushed tip leaking precum in fat, white pearls. His weight was enough to keep you pinned down as he aligned himself with your entrance, as he traced the head over the length of your slit, and his eyes never left your face, your expression painted with heavy strokes of horror and disbelief. He never wavered, never blinked, even as he thrust inside of you, bottoming out in a single uninterrupted motion. Even as you cried out, the sound more pained than anything else. Even as you felt a single, warm teardrop fall off of his cheek and onto yours. You hadn’t realized you’d shut your eyes, not until you forced yourself to open them, not until you found him cloudy-eyed and grinning above you.

He was crying, again.

Huh.

You thought he would’ve given up on that, by now.

He wasn’t gentle. He’d never been delicate with you, but right now, it felt like he was trying to be rough, to pin your legs against your chest and split you open every time he moved his hips, every time he found a way to hit something deeper and more sensitive inside of you. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, strangling itself into something more akin to a cracked whine and a few broken whimpers. The stretch, the pressure was more than you could take. You couldn’t stop yourself – going rigid underneath him, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open in a silent, agonized cry. Your reactions, however involuntary, only seemed to spur Kunikuzushi on, his pace growing more erratic and his breath now coming in quick, shallow pants. No matter what you did, it just made him worse.

You could hear him talking, distantly – little mumbled tangents forming between thrusts. “You’re just so—” He cut himself off with a long, wordless moan. “We’ll do this every day, until— until you know you don’t need anyone but me. Then, you’ll love me, and you’ll never have to—” He thrust deeper into you, letting out a fracturing laugh. “And then, I’ll rip out your tongue and cut off your legs if you try to leave. We’ll always be together. No one will ever, ever take you away from me again.”

You weren’t with him. You didn’t want to be with him. If it wasn’t for his immaturity, his manipulativeness, his fucking knife, this wouldn’t be—

His knife.

Both of his hands were on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh, keeping your knees pressed into your chest. He wasn’t holding it. He couldn’t be.

Without daring to look away from him, you groped around the mattress blindly, your fingertips eventually brushing against something cold and metallic – his switchblade lying abandoned on the edge of the bed. You took it up before you could hesitate, gripping the handle tightly enough for the sharp corners to bite into your palm, for your hand to cramp and go numb by the time you found the strength to actually lift it up. You didn’t aim. You didn’t have time to, not unless you wanted to think about what you were doing, not unless you wanted to let Kunikuzushi win. Not unless you could—

The curved tip just barely made contact with the skin above his collarbone before you faltered, before he had time to catch your wrist in an iron-clad hold. You tried to let go of the switchblade reflexively, but his hand shifted to wrap around yours, to keep the blade pressed into his chest – applying just enough pressure to break the skin. “Do it.” Soft, drawn out, too eager to mean anything good. “I’d let you carve your name into me, if you wanted to. All you'd have to do is ask.”

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to. You didn't want any of this, but Kunikuzushi pressed the blade in his skin regardless, letting out muttered confessions of love and loyalty as a thin red line formed in his flesh, as blood dripped down his chest and disappeared behind the loose collar of his shirt, blotting against the dark fabric. He guided your blade to his lips, next, making a small nick in the corner of his mouth before taking the switchblade out of your hand and tossing it onto the floor, out of your reach. It would’ve hurt less if he’d tried to hurt you, too, taken the blade to your skin after his own. If would've hurt less if he’d acknowledged that you’d tried to do anything at all.

You didn’t have much time to linger on that thought, though. He was already moving again, already making up for time lost by fucking into you like a man crazed. With no preparation, no warning, he jerked forward, his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you, as he forced his tongue past your teeth and smeared his blood over your lips. It felt like you were drowning in nickel, being slowly suffocated by some nameless, slick, oppressive force. It felt like you were choking, despite being able to breathe, to think as clearly as you’d ever been able to around him. It felt like you were going to die.

But, you weren’t. He’d never be so kind, he’d never let you have that kind of comfort, not when he was still grinding into you, not when his cock was twitching against the walls of cunt and he was groaning into your mouth without reservation. You could feel your poor overstimulated pussy clenching around him, your vision burning white around the edges as, for lack of anything more stable to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around his neck and raked your nails over his back, clawing into whatever you could reach. If he noticed, if he cared, it only worked to drag him that much closer, to leave him as deep as he could possibly be when he finally finished, when you felt something warm and vile flood into you.

He stayed like that for a long moment, silent and unmoving, his chest pressed into yours and his lips trailing from your mouth to your throat, settling just above your jugular. It was a small mercy when he finally pulled away and straightened his back, easing himself out of you and wiping the blood off of his face, his neck. You watched from a distance as he fixed his clothes, before pushing himself to his feet, never sparing you so much as a second glance. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Pack your stuff, and make sure you’ve gotten your shit together by then. I’m not letting a mess like you into my apartment.” He paused, lingered long enough to smile. With no sense of visible urgency, he walked to the side of your bed, retrieving his switchblade and kissing your forehead softly, gingerly, with a kind of tenderness you could only wish he’d found a few hours earlier. “I love you, babe. Even when you act like a fucking idiot.”

His grin pressed into flesh, cutting and cruel.

“And I’m so, so glad you’ve realized that you love me too.”

please consider; tighnari having nesting behaviour. he cannot help but want to be somewhere … comfortable. safe. somewhere that smells good. consider, too, this behaviour getting even worse as his rut approaches - because of course he needs to have somewhere exceedingly soft and private to pin you beneath him and breed you and get out all of that needy energy–

but also consider: you and he are not yet in a relationship, and though he can feel the grip of his ‘sensible’ nature loosening, he is above all a Nice Young Man. as much as he may want to, he can’t simply drag you away for the duration of his rut and have his way with you. 

now. his ears are sensitive; so is his nose. and the smell of you, the scent of you wafting over towards him when you lean in to give him a report of your patrol or shyly sit beside him or ask him a question … it’s almost enough to push him over the edge. so what if he kept the cardigan you’d once shrugged off, complaining it was too hot (and then complaining you could never find it again). so what if he kept a towel you used to dry off after accidentally falling into the ravine when searching for lunar lotus for him - the laundry haven’t noticed it’s gone missing. it’s just one towel, rangers go through so many of them …

and so what, too, if one day whilst you’re out he slips into your little tent. so what if he reaches into your laundry basket and takes a few … mementos. buries his face into them, tail swishing from side to side in pleasure, ears twitching. you’ll be too embarrassed to mention it–

and it’s fine, too, if he spends his rut with one pressed against his face and the other wrapped around his cock whilst he imagines he’s fucking into you instead of his own fist, face flushed, eyes squeezed closed, his high-pitched whining caught by the fabric that still smells like you. nobody has to know.