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KYONKYON69's YANDERE FICS MASTERLIST
FANDOMS
[1]GENSHIN IMPACT
[2]HARRY POTTER
[3]JJK
[4]MHA x y/n
[5]MYSTIC MESSENGER
[6]GAME OF THRONES
ATLA
STAR WARS
ONE PIECE
MARVEL
GRISHAVERSE
MERLIN
TWILIGHT
OTHER
LGBTQIA+
[1]BL [2]GL
Chosen Part II
dark!husband!Aerion x wife!Reader
summary: your husband’s jealousy deepens in Ashford
tw: abusive marriage, dubcon
********************************************
Your expression was dull as Ashford finally came into view.
The journey there was uncomfortable, and painful for someone inexperienced with long bouts on a horse. Your body ached from being on horseback for so long, your inner thighs burning from it, your lower back throbbing.
Yet, you were not happy to see the kingdom.
Because arriving meant you would have to endure your husband again.
The entire journey, he had kept distance from you, traveling at the front of the Targaryen group, where he believed he should be because of his ‘important status’. You were placed near the back, with the rest of the ‘extras’, as he put it.
You dreaded the moment he would turn his attention back on you. It filled you with anxiety just picturing the sharp look in his eye. You prayed that with the commotion of arriving, he’d forget you came at all.
Five nights had passed since your husband called you into his room, and struck you for the crime of a knight bringing flowers to your chambers.
Your life had become more and more unbearable every minute that had passed since then.
You slept on his floor like a dog the first night, as he’d insisted. Every second after that, you had been locked in your chambers, forced to endure days of solitude so that you would be ‘reminded’ of how much of your life was a ‘priveledge’.
Nothing was truly a privilege to you. You would rather be starving and homeless than continue to be a wife to Aerion for even a day longer.
A bruise remained on your face from where he hit you. When the servants spoke to you, you could feel them looking at it.
“Poor girl,” you could hear them whisper. “She was practically given a death sentence on her wedding day.”
“She should’ve been more careful,” others would say. “Everyone knows of his anger.”
“She’s lucky she was not poisoned,” she once heard, “That was how his first betrothed died. He spiked her wine himself.”
Sometimes, you wondered if he would try to find you if you decided to run away.
You knew he had no heart to break, but surely his ego would be shattered if the townspeople heard he had a runaway wife. And Aerion’s hurt ego was the truest threat on your life.
“Do not embarrass me in Ashford,” he had reminded you moments before your group set off. “If you speak out of turn, I will not hesitate to slice your tongue in half.”
It was odd that he worried you would embarrass him, as if being attached to Aerion wasn’t the most humiliating experience in the world.
His family rode with your group. Yet, he forbade you from speaking to them.
“You have nothing to say to my father, nor my uncle, nor my cousin. It is in your best interest to remember that.
You had no desire to speak to any man of the same blood as Aerion, even if his uncle and cousin seemed more noble minded.
All Targaryens were evil, you had been made aware of it long ago.
Only Aegon, the child brother of your husband, was kind. But Aerion had banned you from speaking to the boy long ago.
As the group neared the Ashford gates, the horses are ordered to gallop into the town. Your thighs burn harsher as your own horse picks up speed.
Spectators watch you enter. They clapped at your group’s entry, yet their eyes were spiteful. They hated the Targaryens as much as you did.
You finally stop within the castle walls. You find yourself completely exhausted, and want nothing more than to rest for the remainder of the day.
You spot Aerion’s horse coming to a stop. He did not even glance around to find you. He simply dismounted his horse, tossed the reins on the ground, and walked towards his father.
The horse you are riding on is unknown to you. You struggle steering it with so many others around.
“Stop,” you speak to the horse. She ignores you. “Halt.”
She continues to walk on her own accord as if she had no rider.
You look around for the guards that were riding beside you. They are gone, no doubt dealing with the princes now.
“Halt,” you try again.
As if mocking you, the horse takes a faster step forward.
“Halt,” you urge louder, pulling on the grips. “Now.”
You panic as you glance around, and spy everyone else handling the horses with ease.
You try to turn her into the stables. She refuses to breach the doorway.
“Please,” you lean and whisper closer to the horse’s ear. “I will give you any feed you want if you just stop now-”
“Do you require any help, milady?”
You startle, straightening yourself properly and peering down to see a man standing at the archway of the stables. He appears to be quite the tall man, nearly eye to eye with you even as you remain on top of the animal.
You quickly turn your head to see if your husband is watching you. He is not.
“I need this horse to stop,” you say to the man.
He steps in front of your horse with ease, taking her reins and giving a quick. “Aye, girl. Settle down.” You are beyond relieved that it works.
You attempt to push yourself off your saddle, but realize that the long ride has made your legs practically unusable. Your knees are locked, and you struggle to awaken your lower body.
The man offers a hand out to you. “I can assist you down-”
“No. Away from me now.”
He flinched back. You’ve never seen such a large man flinch, as if you were actually capable of hurting him.
Again, you look towards your husband. He still has not set eyes on you.
“I-I apologize, milady,” the man uttered with sincerity. “I meant no offense by offering. You only seemed to be having trouble.”
You were still having trouble. You couldn’t comprehend how exhausted such a short journey has made you.
You suppress a groan as you pull both aching legs to one side of the horse.
Another glance at Aerion. He’s still preoccupied.
“I had no desire to make you upset, you only look like you will fall-”
“If you place hands on me, my husband will have your head,” you say to him, hoping he would take the warning and leave. “He will not care if you are merely a stable boy doing your job, his fury reaches everyone.”
He opened his mouth to speak again, but promptly shut it. He took a step back. Your threat seemed to work on him.
Yet, his urge to be a helpful gentleman was somehow untainted. “Perhaps you could describe your husband to me. I could let him know you need assistance.”
You would’ve laughed at the suggestion, if you did not feel so absolutely devastated that your husband would never be someone you could call on for help.
As if sensing that this was the moment you wanted his least, your husband appeared. Your chest tightened as he arrived.
Aerion frowned as he spotted you. “Why are you…” He paused as he noticed the man standing before you. The tall man. The very, very tall man. You did not realize until Aerion was next to him just how utterly tall he truly was. He held at least a foot of height over Aerion.
Your husband eyed him up and down, before dismissing him as nothing. He set his sights back on you. “Why are you still on that horse?”
You don’t meet his eye. You look at the ground below. “My legs seem to have fallen stiff on the journey. I...” You hesitate to ask. “I need help getting down.”
“It was not even a day’s ride. Are you truly this helpless?”
You almost glance at the stable boy, to gage his reaction, but you know that Aerion’s rage may spark if he catches you looking at him.
You swallow. “I fear falling-”
“Get down. Now. Before I yank you off myself.”
Your body tenses. You recognize his tone of voice, and understand this is no time to disobey him.
Slowly, you try to push yourself off of the horse. You brace yourself, and try to jump to the ground.
Your legs are still not cooperating. They give out as soon as you touch the ground, and you fall back onto the dirt.
You see Aerion rolling his eyes.
“See to this horse,” he commands the gentlemen, who still remains beside you.
The man finally speaks again. “I am not a stable boy, m’lord.”
It surprises you. You finally look up at him, and for the first time you notice that he is dressed differently than any other servant around here.
“Why? Not clever enough?” Aerion jeers. He directs to you, “Stand up before others see you.”
You use the legs of the saddle to pull yourself to your feet. You remain feeling uneasy and unbalanced.
It seemed you had taken too long composing yourself. Aerion’s hand comes out to slap your hand off of the saddle. “Straighten yourself. Are you a lady or a shoe cleaner?”
You force your shoulders straight, ignoring how stiff your spine is.
Turning back to the tall man, Aerion commands, “If you cannot handle horses, fetch me some wine and a pretty wench. Preferably one that does not hunch over like an animal.” Aerion glanced towards you, tilting his head and asking, “Why have you not brushed the dirt off yourself?”
You quickly begin patting down your skirts.
“Hurry off and find our tent,” Aerion snaps at you. “You do best where no one sees you-”
“How is that any way to speak to a Lady?”
You freeze.
Aerion’s expression changes. You see it clearly. He gets that look in his eyes, the one where he is angry at interruption, but also sickly glad for it, because now he gets the opportunity to put someone in their place.
“Oh,” Aerion says to him, voice low and mocking. “Apologies. Do you find my tone for her to be disrespectful?”
You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to be a part of Aerion’s sick game of jealousy. You body floods with despair at all the ideas of what this might lead to.
The man locks eyes with you. You try to give a quick shake of your head, to plead with him to change his words, but he does not.
Instead, he stands taller, his height making both you and your husband have to look up at him. “I find it cruel. There’s no need for it.”
You wince, as if already being able to feel the punishment you will have to endure for someone coming to your defense.
Aerion’s hand lands on the hilt of his sword. You panic, suddenly recalling the last time a stable boy spoke back to him, and how Aerion punished him with a scar across his face.
“Kneel,” Aerion demanded. “And I will educate you on what cruelty is-”
“He is unused to royalty, Prince Aerion,” you quickly say. “I’m sure he did not mean to offend you so greatly. He is but a simple serving boy.”
You were sure your actions would result in at least one more hit to the face. Or perhaps he’d decide to cut your tongue like he’d promised before. Either way, you felt it was worth it to try to spare this man.
There were such limited kind men left in the world, you would not allow one to be damaged due to helping you.
Aerion eyed you. “Serving boy or not, he must learn eventually-”
“I am not serving boy,” the man informs them. “I-” A pause, like he’s unsure if he should continue. “I have the privilege of being a knight.”
A knight. His chivalry made sense now.
Kind, and helpful, and strong. What a knight should be.
What your husband was not.
Aerion’s eyes trail over him. “I see.” There’s disgust in his expression. “Knighthood certainly has fallen on sad days.” His eyes go back on you. “He has come running to your defense, this knight. This has become a habit for you, hasn’t it? Finding yourself a knight the moment my back is turned?”
You keep your gaze on the ground, again being too much of a coward to meet his eye. “No, Prince Aerion.”
“No? Are you sure?”
If you bit your tongue any harder, you would slice it off yourself.
Aerion taunted, “Does he remind you of Ser Emeret?”
“No.” You feel your eyes stinging, grief rushing over you at the wasteful loss of life, panic hitting you as you imagine this man before you being slain because of your mistake.
“Pick your head up and find our tent before I make a scene of reminding you you’re place.”
You grips your skirts, quickly turning and walking in the direction of his father.
You could hear Aerion talking to the man as you walked away. You have no idea what else was said to the tall knight, you only catch Aerion speaking the word ‘whore’, and it is no doubt directed at you.
Aerion’s father is across the courtyard greeting his brother. You feel out of place as you arrive before him.
Maekar sees you approaching. “Lady (Y/N),” he nods to you. If he noticed your distressed appearance, he does not comment on it. “Might I introduce you to my brother, Prince Baelor. Brother, this is Aerion’s bride.”
You curtsy, and try your hardest to keep up your voice even. “I am honored to meet you.”
“Likewise, My Lady. Apologies for not being able to attend your wedding.”
Hardly anyone attended the wedding. Aerion rushed it, you did not know why, and the only guests were his father and brothers.
Maekar continued, “And his son, Prince Valarr.”
Another curtsy that caused you to feel the aching of your legs.
“Have you been injured from the ride?” The younger man, Valarr asked you. “You appear unwell.”
Baelar hit his son on the back of the head. “How is that any way to greet a Lady?”
“I did not mean it offensively,” he defended.
“I am alright, Prince Valarr. Thank you.” You feel yourself becoming as mentally exhausted as you were physically. “Prince Maekar, Aerion has asked for me to find our tent. Might you have the servants escort me?”
“Yes, yes.” He gestured around. A guard made his way over. “Escort the Lady to the tent prepared for her and Prince Aerion.”
You hesitate again as you stare at the single guard. “Prince Maekar,” you breathed. “I apologize, but...” It all felt so humiliating as he stared back at you. “Prince Aerion asks that I am not alone with any guard. He insists on two escorts at a time.”
The three men stare at you if it were your rule, and not merely one you were being forced to follow.
“I have not even greeted that boy yet and I find myself exhausted by him,” Baelar mutters beneath his breath.
Maeker sighed at the request, but sent a second guard.
The tent was large, and fitting for a prince. You wished it was dirty. You wished there were bugs that would crawl over Aerion’s skin and make him itch and squirm.
You did not know what to do with yourself when the guards left.
You wanted to sleep, but worried Aerion would burst in at any moment and call you lazy for it.
The tent had a bed, and a desk. You took the seat at the desk.
You sat for what felt like an hour, just staring down at your hands. Slowly, you lost your composure.
Your head rested on the desk, and you fell asleep.
You wake when the tent flap is shoved open. Aerion’s footsteps are loud as he makes his way over to you.
He grabs the back of your chair, and jerks it so that you are fully awake. You gasped, and start to rise to your feet.
His hands fall on your shoulders, forcing you back down.
“What were the instructions I gave you before we came here?”
You blink rapidly, trying to force your exhausted brain to start working again.
He gripped your shoulders tighter. “What were the instructions I gave you?”
You wince at his grip, and try to pull your shoulder from him. You’re unsuccessful.
“Do not embarrass you,” you quickly speak.
“Do not embarrass me.” His head leans down towards your ear. “Yet you decide to jump off your horse and fall on your ass-”
“I did not mean to. I-I told you I needed help-”
He pinches your shoulder. You shut your mouth.
“What else did I say to you?”
“…Do not speak out of turn-”
“Do not speak out of turn. Do not speak to my father, nor my uncle, nor my cousin.” You heard him sigh. “Yet what did you do, (Y/N)?”
In your head, you tell the gods that if they strike Aerion down at this very moment, you will dedicate your life to them.
They ignore you.
You find your throat has grown hot, and you struggle to swallow.
He pulls the chair back, startling you. You hold onto it tightly, expecting him to shove you to the ground in it. Instead, he turns the chair around so you are facing him.
Then, your husband kneels down on one knee in front of you.
“Tell me,” he says again, “my sweet, sweet wife.” His hands caress the ends of your hair, something he has grown fond of lately, “What did you do?”
You spoke to all of them.
And now he would punish you for it.
Your heart lurched with fear of your husband. It was torture, the way you had to sit here with absolutely no power to get away from this horrid man.
You try to explain yourself. “…You…told me to find the tent.”
“And so you used your intelligence and took it upon yourself to search out our tent on your own?” He brushed your hair over your shoulders. “Is that what you did?”
Your eyes stung again. You knew you looked pathetic, you felt it too. He probably relished in it.
You don’t answer.
“Or,” he speaks, “Did you...” His fingers trail up your thighs slowly, mimicking footsteps. “…walk up to my father...” You flinch as his fingers press harder. “…and my uncle...” You shift uncomfortably as you feel his nails through your clothes. “...and my cousin, and tell them that your jealous husband-” You cry out as he pinches your thigh, nails digging painfully as if trying to rip your skin off. “-is too scared to send you off alone with a single guard?”
Your hand flies to push his off of you. He does not let go. You hurry out, “I said no such thing about you-”
“My father said it about me,” he spat. “He scolded me for being such an ‘insecure child.’”
“I was trying to find our tent like you asked-”
He grabbed your jaw, pulling your head forward, and slamming it back against the wooden headrest of the chair. “I would have rather you wandered into the woods and died, you stupid girl. Can you not do anything yourself?”
You try to stand, telling yourself if you were able to escape his grasp, you really would run into the woods and die. You would rather lay dead in the dirt then deal with this monster for a moment longer.
But his hands shoot out to force you still.
“What will it take to reach that empty brain of yours?” he snapped you. “What form of pain do I need to inflict upon you so that you finally behave?”
You wondered if you might die here and now from the stress he is putting on your heart. It was as if he was squeezing it in his hand, playing with both your feelings and your life.
“Nothing else to say, (Y/N)?” He stood, and tsked. “Hm. You had so much to talk about with your hedge knight earlier.”
“I spoke with no hedge knight-”
“No? You didn’t grovel for me to show him mercy?”
“I-I did not speak with him. He was only offering help, we had no conversation-”
Aerion placed his hands on the rails of the chair, leaning down closer. “He did not care to help you. He was only trying to find your price so that he could fuck you.”
You turned your head.
He snatched your jaw, forcing you to face him. “He told me so. He admitted to wanting to bed you. He said he was giving it a try since you looked like you’d open your legs easy enough-”
“No.” You said the word like it was the one thing you were sure of. “It was nothing like that. He was a gentleman. He was only helping.”
“He said that you looked cheap, like you’d allow him to fuck you on the hay in the stables.”
“I’m dressed in your house’s traditional clothing. If I look cheap, take it up with the dragons-”
He grabbed the back of your hair, and slammed your face against the desk. Pain exploded in your nose.
When he yanked your head back up, you felt a trickle of blood run down your lips.
His rough fingers take your jaw, pulling you to face him again.
“Disrespect the dragons again, and you will be scalped for being a traitor,” he spits at you.
You touch your face. Your finger is coated red when you pull it away. Hatred burns you to your core.
You have come with his family to his tourney and done nothing but exactly what he asked of you.
Yet he finds a mistake in everything.
You were not brought for company, you realize, only for his sick entertainment.
You hated this man, and you wished him to have a slow, painful death.
Anger burning in your chest, you spit at him, “I do not disrespect the dragons, I disrespect my jealous husband whose own father has deemed him an insecure child.”
You hear him let out a loud laugh. One, single, loud laugh.
Then, he slams your head on the table twice as hard.
The room spins.
You don’t pick your head up this time. He seems happy to see you’ve learned.
His fingers release your hair after a moment of silence from you. His hand slowly drifts down your back.
“Sometimes, I feel that you crave my roughness,” he says to you. His fingers trail down your spine. “Is that it, wife? Are you the type of woman to be excited by pain?”
You clenched your fists, and you wish you were as tall as the kind knight, so that you did not have to be afraid anymore.
“Do you do these things for my attention?”
he mocks you. “Did you hear me ask for a pretty wench, and you acted up so that my attention would be placed on you alone?”
Still bent over the desk, you feel Aerion move to stand behind you. One of his hands falls on your hip, the other pushes down on your lower back, pressing your chest harder against the table top.
“You have my...full attention now, wife,” he breathed, as his hands slowly lifted your skirts, his body warming as he forced your backside bare. “Does that excite you?” You shudder as you feel his hand fall on your naked ass, fondling you like a man who hasn’t seen a woman in ages. “Are you aroused by the way I treat you?”
You inhale sharply as you feel his hand trail between your legs.
“I am,” he whispers, so low you barely catch it.
His fingers prod at your dry entrance, making you wince. He notices, and to punish you further, he pushes a second finger into your dry cunt.
You shut your eyes tight.
“I think I’ll enjoy fucking you bent over like this,” he speaks, his voice still taunting you. “I won’t have to see that goddawful face you make.”
Your blood boiled at how he demeaned you.
He brutally thrusted a third finger into you, bringing a sharper hiss of pain. He hummed as he heard it.
You could hear his smile as he said, “I’ll be able to pretend you are a different woman entirely.”
Gritting your teeth, you spat, “And I will be able to pretend it is Ser Emeret fucking me instead.”
His hands leave you in an instant. He steps away from you. With a rush of adrenaline, you pull your skirts back down, covering yourself, and flipping around the face your husband.
He stares at you with an expression you cannot decipher.
“...Take it back.”
You shuffle away from the desk, and place yourself closer to the fabric of the tent.
“Withdraw your words now,” he demands of you. “Before I have you hung for infidelity.”
“I take nothing back.”
His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a heavy breath. “Take it back this instant, or I will drag you outside of this tent, strip you for the world to see, and whip you until you are unconscious.”
You know he would not do that. Because it would embarrass him.
So you repeated, between grit teeth, “I take nothing back.”
His eyes darken.
But…he does not move closer. He does not grab you, nor take up a whip. He just stares with a narrowed expression.
He stays right where he is, like an animal who has set its sights on the hunt.
His voice becomes a whisper. “If I find out another man has placed his hands on you, I will take my sword, and I will skin him alive until every inch of his flesh is gone.”
You believe him.
You almost add to the fire. ‘Ser Emeret is dead,’ you almost say to taunt him, ‘You can’t skin alive someone who’s already dead’.
But his anger has become something you are unequipped to handle. You do not wish to test it any further than you already have.
“Undress,” he suddenly demands. “And lay onto the bed.”
You want to refuse. But his face tells you there will be no more tolerance of refusal.
You remove you dress, and your undergown.
There is no romance as you lay naked on the bed, and as he undresses and climbs on top of you.
You try to shut your eyes, as you always do.
He slaps you for it.
“Look at me.”
You have no choice but to do as told.
For the first time in your marriage, your eyes are on your husband the entire time he fucks you.
His eyes never leave you either.
Chosen
dark!Aerion x wife!reader
summary: you live your life trying to avoid your husband as much as possible, but find yourself facing his wrath after committing an accidental offense
warnings: abusive relationship, violence, toxicity, threats, dark!aerion
a/n: first post on tumblr so plsss lmk if the format is bad
***********
“Your husband requests for you to join him in his chambers, my lady.”
You pause what you are doing, hand freezing in the air as you were just beginning to pull shut the window curtains.
You turn towards the servant girl who stood uncomfortably at your chamber doorway. Your face showed your confusion. “Now?”
Your feet were bare, you were dressed down in your night clothes, and your hair was already braided for bed. You were unprepared for this.
She gave an obedient nod. “Yes, my lady. Now.”
It did not make sense to you. Your husband had never requested you at this time of night before. In fact, he never requested your presence in his chambers at all. On the brief occasion he would seek your company, it would be for a quick bedding in the afternoon, after his lunch, when his body was full of wine.
You convince yourself this is a mistake. “It is quite late,” you begin, “Perhaps he meant in the morning.”
The servant girl stood with obvious discomfort. She seemed to think carefully over her words, before repeating, “Now, my lady. He insists on it.”
You tell her, “If he asked you to bring him a woman to warm his bed, then he did not mean me. It is a wench that he wants. You will have to call one from town.”
You were not naive to your husband’s infidelity, nor would you pretend to be. Not that it bothered you anymore. You were grateful he entertained himself with prostitutes instead of you. You despised being in his company the same way he despised being in yours.
The servant shuffled in closer. “My Lady (Y/N), your husband has requested you specifically. He wants you in his chambers immediately.”
The idea of you being on his mind, especially at this time of night, made your heart drop.
A prickle of fear coursed through your body. “Why?”
“I do not know.”
“What was his mood when he sent you?”
The servant girl opened her mouth and shut it again, like she was not sure if she should answer. Eventually, she slipped out a pitiful, “He is angry, my lady. I know not why.”
Your heart beat faster.
Angry. The thought made you shudder. You had no desire to be anywhere near your husband when he was in a normal mood, and definitely not when he was angry. You had no idea why he wanted to be anywhere near you either. You were never a comfort for him, he never confided in you, he hardly ever spoke to you. You had never been called to calm him down, so you did not understand why he might want you at this very moment.
Truth be told, you had never even been to your husband’s chamber.
He would come to yours, to use your body for his own pleasure, and then leave within an hour. That was the extent of your relationship with him.
It was a loveless marriage. Everyone in the kingdom was aware of it.
Because everyone in the kingdom was aware that Aerion Targaryen was incapable of love.
You were married to the monstrous man just over six months ago, yet you were still strangers, the same as you were when you met him on your wedding day.
Aerion seemed to enjoy pretending you didn’t exist. You were glad, because it was not easy existing around him.
The two of you lived separate lives, only intertwining when he wanted to bed you, or when he placed you by his side for a public banquet.
The nighttime was supposed to be your refuge from him, and you were not willing to give it up so easily. Especially not to face his anger.
In an attempt to escape your fate, you tell the servant girl, “Please, tell my husband that I have already retired to bed. I will see him in the morning.”
“Lady (Y/N).” She spoke your name with more desperation. “Prince Aerion has told me to bring you to his chambers, and he said that if you refuse, he will punish me, and then he will send a knight to drag you there.”
Your shoulders slouched, and your panic rose even further. “…Why?”
“I do not know,” she repeated, fretfully. “But please, come.”
This servant girl was not the one married to the devil. She was not the one damned to hell. It would be unfair to delay your own fate and allow her to receive a punishment for your own cowardice.
Slowly, you relent with a nod. “Let me get dressed, and I will be on my way.”
“Thank you,” the servant whispered, her gratefulness as clear as day.
You dressed quickly. You could tell by the way the servant gripped her skirts that she was just as scared as you were.
“I do not know the way to his chambers,” you admit. “I will need you to guide me.”
She was surprised. She should be. You were probably the only wife in the kingdom to not know where her husband slept.
She gave a kind, “Of course. Follow me.”
As you made your way through the castle, you tried to rack your mind for anything that might have set Aerion off today.
He was hotheaded, easy to anger, and quick to violence. But you did not think anything specific upset him today. You spotted him a few times from the balcony of the library. He was training as always, laughing. He seemed fine just a few hours ago. Surely, if he was upset all day, he would have been frowning.
The servant stopped in front of a door you had never seen before. She gave a quick knock, before bowing to you, and taking a step back.
“Enter,” came your husband’s voice through the door.
His tone was normal, and it eased you. You stepped inside his chambers. The door shut behind you.
Aerion had his back to you, occupied by something at his desk. He was pouring wine, you realized.
Your eyes glanced around, and you notice there are no servants, nor guards in his room. You tense again.
“(Y/N),” he speaks, smoothly. “You took your time arriving.”
“I apologize, my Prince. I was asleep when you called upon me.”
It was a lie. You shouldn’t lie to him, you know this. But it came out too fast for you to stop it.
He abruptly placed the pitcher of wine back on the desk, somewhat roughly. “Were you?” he asked, his voice still neutral.
You swallowed back the nerves building inside you. “Yes.”
For a few moments, he did nothing. He said nothing. He stood exactly where he was, still and silent.
A coldness swept over you. You had never seen this from him before.
Finally, he turned to face you. His eyes were unreadable. “Would you care for some wine?” he asked, as if this was all normal. As if you were a regular husband and wife who enjoyed spending time together.
You had never drank with him, except for your wedding, and you did not want to start while he was angry. You quickly refuse. “No, thank you, my Prince-”
“Come. Drink with me.”
He closed the distance between you two, forcing a goblet into your hand. You hold it with uncertainty.
Was he trying to poison you? He would never get away with it. His father would surely find out. Yet, you didn’t put it past him to do something as cruel as poisoning you, his own wife.
Aerion stands before you, staring at you expectantly.
Understanding he is an impatient man, you decide to ignore your paranoia and take a drink of the wine.
He smiles at you. “Do you like it?”
“Yes.” Another lie.
“You have never told me what your favorite wine is,” he says to you. His finger brush against your jaw, causing you to flinch in surprise. “A year of marriage, and you have never told me your preference.”
“Half a year of marriage.” The words spill out of you before you can rethink them.
His fingers pause, his eyes meeting yours sharply.
Another moment passed of his silence.
You felt like you had just triggered something you should not have.
A smile graces his face again. You cannot tell if it is real or forced. “You are right. Half a year. Seems like so much longer, does it not?”
This time, you were truthful. “It does.”
“Come,” he says to you, gesturing with a short flick of the wrist. “I would like to show you something.”
Aerion makes his way to his window. You stay exactly where you are, uncertain of his intentions. You finally find the courage to ask, “Why have you called on me-”
He brushes off your question with a stern, “Come. Now.”
You finally join him. You glance at the window, but find nothing of interest in the courtyard below.
“I find myself watching this window very often,” Aerion tells you.
His hand falls on the small of your back, and he pushes you closer to the glass. He fills the space behind you, and you are suddenly aware that you are trapped where you are.
“Do you know why I watch this window?”
You look desperately at the courtyard, trying to find anything that might catch his eyes. “You watch the men train,” you tried.
“No.”
“You watch to see who enters the place.”
“No.” This time, as he speaks, his hand falls to your hip. His body presses against yours.
“You…” You’re unable to think when his hand comes back to caress your face again. “You make sure the guards do not leave their post.”
“I watch this window,” he begins in a colder voice. “To keep an eye on my wife.”
As he spits out the last word, his hand grips your jaw with a tightness you were unprepared for. You cry out as he cranes your head to the left, and your eyes suddenly on a familiar balcony.
Your blood runs cold.
Your chambers. They were in view of his window. You had never seen his room before, yet his window held a perfect view of yours.
You left your candles going, and you had not drawn your curtains yet. And your room was so visible.
He could see right into it.
He could watch you.
Oh gods, he had been watching you.
The goblet of wine falls to the floor.
“Do you think of me as a fool?” he seethes in your ear, so close you feel his lips on your skin. “That I would not keep an eye on my own woman?”
No, he was not a fool, you were. Because you had not even considered this. Never had it even crossed your mind that you were being monitored in the privacy of your own chambers.
You winced as he pulled your body tighter against his, his hand still gripping your face painfully. “Do you think I do not see what you do?”
The sudden realization that you’ve had no privacy this entire time startled you, but it also further confuses you.
Because you were not a sinful woman.
You did not cheat, you did not steal, you did not even gossip.
It made your skin crawl to know he watched you through your window, but you had nothing to be guilty for.
You had done nothing wrong. No lovers, no conspiracy, no hidden agenda. Your room had been your sanctuary, to read and write and sew in peace. What could he have seen?
You try to make sense of it. Tears begin to fall down your cheek as you become unhealthily overwhelmed. “I do not understand,” you cry. “What have I done-”
His hand released your jaw, only to spin you around and slam your back against the brick wall.
You shrank under his gaze. His eyes burned with an anger you did not understand.
His eyes came up to cup both sides of your face, making it impossible to look away from him. “Am I not a kind husband?”
No. He was not. Yet, you still force out, “You are, my prince.”
“Do I not give you everything you ask for?”
You have never asked him for anything, besides the freedom to leave the castle without him, and even that he hardly gave you.
“You do,” you cry, flinching as he leaned even closer.
“Do I not take care of you?”
No. His servants took care of you, he hardly ever spoke to you.
Still, you lied, “You do.”
He brings a hand to your cheek, his fingers softly brushing away the stream of tears that had began to coat your skin.
His whispers, with false kindness, “Aren’t I gentle with you?”
No. He always held your hand too tightly during public banquets. He manhandled you in bed. He often shoved you forward when you would walk too slowly beside him.
But you feared him, so you lied. “You are very gentle with me.” Your voice shook, as did your body. He could feel your trembling. It seemed to encourage him.
After he wiped your tears, his fingers softly caressed the red bruises he had just inflicted upon you. “Have I ever struck you?”
That was the only thing he had never done. He never hit you, never slapped you. His physical punishments towards you were pinches or rough pulls each and every way. But he had never struck you.
Your throat is dry as you admit, “No. You have never struck me-”
His hand crashes against your face with a slap so strong it makes you dizzy. Your head whips to the right, and your eyes quickly prickle with a new batch of tears. Your hand flies up to protect yourself.
“Maybe that is why you behave like some lowborn whore,” he spits with rage. “Because I have not slapped enough sense into you.”
A panic arose in your chest, and you found yourself trying to push him away. “Aerion-”
Another slap, harsher than before.
You would’ve fallen to the ground had he not been holding you.
“Stop!” you cry out, eyes shut tight as you try to get away. “Husband, please-!”
“Husband!” he spits with fury. “Or do you forget?!”
“No!” you sob. “I do not forget!”
“I am your husband! You are my wife!”
You try to nod so fast your neck aches. “Yes! Yes!”
“Do not forget your place!”
“I have not!” you cry out, your face stinging from his palm.
Finally, he let go of you. Your hand flew to your face, trying to rub out the pain in your cheek, but to not avail.
“What have I done?!” you cried out again, unable to bear this any longer.
He gave no verbal answer. Instead, he walked away from you. You shut your eyes tightly, not opening them until something was thrown at you.
You look at your feet, and see a bouquet of flowers thrown to the floor.
Your heart dropped at the realization of what caused this all.
“No,” you choked out.
Realization of what he had seen, and what he must suspect, made your body plunge cold with terror.
This was all a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that could get you killed.
“No,” you all but sob. “It’s not what you think-”
“I stood at this very window and watched you allow a knight into your chambers,” he said, his voice going back to a chilling factual tone. “My wife brought a man into her bedroom, unsupervised, and accepted flowers from him.”
“No. No.” You kept shaking your head in desperation. “I sent him for flowers. I wanted flowers for my windowsill, so-so I sent Ser Emeret to bring me some-”
“And bring you some, he did. He brought you flowers, and a smile, and a cock for you spit on-”
“I did no such thing! It is a lie! I have never strayed from you!
“And who is there to prove this?”
“Ask him,” you cry. “Call-Call upon Ser Emeret. He will tell. He gave me the flowers, and that was all.”
“I cannot call upon Ser Emeret.”
“Please. He will tell you-”
“Ser Emeret is dead. He was killed in a training accident a little over an hour ago.”
The world seemed to crumble around you.
Aerion was going to kill you. You were sure of it. He brought you here to strangle you, or beat you to death, or maybe that wine was a slow acting poison after all. He was going to kill you, over nothing, because he hated you that much.
“…You-” You were so scared you felt you might faint. But the thought of being unconscious in this cruel man’s presence was even more terrifying. “You…saw that nothing happened.” You shook your head, becoming hysterical. “If you were watching me, you saw that nothing happened! He handed me flowers and left! That was all! That was all! You saw it! If you were watching, you saw it!”
Your husband once again closed the distance between you two. For a moment, you feared he would strike you once more. But instead, he began to caress your hair.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I saw it.”
“I did not betray you,” you cried. “I did nothing with that man.”
He stared at the end of your hair as he played with it between his fingers. “I know.”
You did not understand. You wept, “Then why are you doing this?”
His eyes met yours. There was a flash of something his expression, something she hadn’t seen before. His voice dropped to a whisper. “…Because he smiled at you. And you smiled back.”
“It was out of courtesy-”
Another slap hit your face. This time, he let go of you, and you fell to the ground.
You try to push yourself up, but his boot comes down on the side of your body, forcing you back to the floor.
“You cannot do this!” you cry out. “I am a Lady-”
“You are my wife,” he spat at you. “Do not forget that your life, and the conditions in which you live it, are at my discretion.”
You wanted to scream. Your throat was burning to. You wanted to scream and shout at him. You wanted to spit in his face and slap him back, maybe scratch him with your nails and leave a scar on that pretty face of his.
But you knew that even a single utterance of refusal would end violently. You did not even want to imagine what he might do if you pressed his frustration any further.
For your own safety, you clamped your mouth shut.
The flowers you bought were now scattered on the floor.
Aerion slowly squatted down beside you, brushing your hair away from your red, tear-stained face. “If I see another man in your chambers ever again, I will have every item you own burned to ashes, and I will keep you chained to my own bed while I am gone.”
You wished he would burn to ashes. You wished you were the Targaryen, and that you had a dragon, and that you could burn him to a crisp.
“In four days time, I will be traveling to Ashford for the tourney. You are no longer trusted to remain at the castle without me by your side, so I have made the arrangements for you to accompany me.”
This felt more like a slap to the face than his physical strike had.
The last bit of peace you had was gone.
His trips were the only time you ever felt alive anymore. When he was out of town, and you knew he would not call on you, was the only time you could truly breath. And now it was gone.
Biting your tongue, you tried to muffle the cry trying to force its way from your throat.
You curled up on the ground, trying to become as small as possible, covering your face with your hair, as if it would hide you from him.
“You will mind your tongue while we are there,” he continued, speaking down on you like you truly were nothing but a dog. “You will speak to no other. You will look at no other. You have no duty but to be my wife.”
You curled your face into your hands.
“You will clap when I win, you will sit up straight when we have company, you will nod when I speak. And when I bring a whore to my tent to satisfy myself with, you will sit quietly in the corner of the tent and not say a word. Do you understand, Lady (Y/N)?”
The command sparked hatred in your bones. Your face held a grimace. You grit your teeth, your fists clenching.
He repeated, “I asked you, do you understand-”
“No, I do not understand,” you hissed, forcing your head up. “You have lost your mind over me buying flowers, yet you speak of bedding whores in the very same room as me. Have you no respect for your title, Prince Aerion?”
You braced yourself for another slap to the face.
But Aerion did not lash out.
No, in fact, he smiled. He let out a laugh, like your outburst humored him. “I have never seen a woman who is so eager to be beaten by her husband.” He took hold of your hair again, this time pulling it in a way that strung your scalp. “You will watch your words carefully, or else you may hurt my feelings.”
“You have no feelings!” you scream. “There is no emotion in that cold empty heart except hatred! Why do you care who smiles at a wife you never wanted?!”
His brows dip together, and another short flicker of humor passes his features. “Never wanted? Did your father tell you that?”
You are too overwhelmed by the night to come up with any reasonable explanation for his words.
But he explains it for you.
“I chose you, (Y/N).”
The room becomes suffocating, as does his gaze.
“If you cause me to regret my choice,” he continues, “I will nail you to a tree and burn you.”
He stands up quickly, giving you no time to process what he had told you.
“You will sleep in here tonight,” he informs you. “But I have no desire to share a bed with a disrespectful wife, so you will sleep there on the floor like the bitch you are.”
He picks the goblet off the floor, fills it, and drinks it.
No poison.
You wish there secretly was. You wish you would both die in your sleep tonight.
“Goodnight, wife.” He puts the candles out.
You pray to the gods that Aerion will die in the upcoming tournament.
Tag 9 people you want to know better ♡
Thank you so much for the tag @daughterofthesunlands 💕💕
Last book: Life Of Pi By Yann Martel <<love rereading (and rewatching the movie because it’s SO interesting) it’s one of my favs but I’m actually currently rereading Sharp Objects By Gillian Flynn it it’s my all time favorite book ever (I also love the show)
Last song: Little Sadie By Crooked Still (also one of my favorite songs)
Last movie: Soul survivor (never watched it before and um well ok fine I didn’t find it that good because it confused that absolutely hell out of me but seeing Eliza Dushku made me unable to turn it off. But yk what it wasn’t good but in the end credits THEY PLAYED AN ABSOLUTE BANGER!!!!! It was Digital Bath by Deftones)
Last series: Primal, it’s a Genndy Tartakovsky adult animated series on adult swim and omg Fang is my comfort character fr I loveeee her and Spears friendship it’s so hilarious and beautiful how bonded they are.
Salty or sweet: Sweet a million percent. I’m a sucker for sweet everything rlly
Coffee or tea: I AM OBSESSED WITH TEA!!!! I love tea, all the tea, every single tea I like.
Working on: Definitely trying to work on getting out of my comfort zone. I would also say that I’m working on getting back to writing, I wrote for almost 6 hours yesterday but other than yesterday I have had the worse writers block lately but definitely going to get this brain to unfart itself.
Tagging: @madeofvioletdreams @sugaredfawn @cygnuscurse @ghostykie @motherlagoon-111 @valewhimsy @wtfareprfectplaces
The one and only @servingfairydust, tagging me. And on Valentine's Day, thank you.
Last book: Lord of the Rings. My favorite is The Hobbit. I'm planning rereading them again to watch the movies after each one. Currently I'm reading Frankenstein, (I still think Victor deserves death.)
Last song: Misty Mountains. I just needed to hear both AURORA's version and the movie's bc it's soo good.
Last movie: A Walk to Remember. Idk, why. I know my girl should've stuck with having peace in her life instead of that bs. (My ass is too critical over every romance movie. Today is going to be tough in terms of what to watch.) Planning to watch Can't buy me Love.
Last series: Peacemaker. It's so good tbh. Currently watching akotsk and Lost. It's a counter-balance. It works, it works. (I have too much shows that I haven't tried to finish. My continue watching list is embarrassing rn)
Salty or sweet: Sweet, yup! Sweet until I need salty. But yeah 100% sweet.
Coffee or tea: Tea. Coffee makes me way to anxious and that I can do all on my own.
Working on: Interacting more. I'm being more open about talking to people bc insolation isn't going to help anyone in this economy. Also I'm trying to be less critical about what I post on here. (I want to know what you're writing, servingfairydust. I just know it's eating.)
Tagging: @biblicallyacc-ramonaflowers @inthemourninglight @mgofox @themoonlitquill
Thank you so much for tagging me @valewhimsy on Valentine's day.
Last book: A Clash Of Kings by George RR Martin
Last few songs I've listened to: Carribean Blue by Enya, Only Skin by Joanna Newson, Little Soldier by Lily Allen and Brutus by The Buttress.
Last movie: PAN (2015)
Salty or Sweet: Sweet.
Coffee or tea: Tea.
Working on: Finding a job as of currently & going to college online.
@yourmanofwar @futuregws @darks1ster @neifilie @missshipman @bogbutteronmycroissant
I've just gotten off an 8 hour flight. Thank you for tagging me @devoutbutatwhatcost it was a lovely surprise in the middle of my holiday. I, too, love Caribbean Blue.
Last book: The Death of Bunny Munro by Nick Cave, The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt, The Holy Innocents/The Dreamers by Gilbert Adair, Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, Philosophy in the Bedroom by Marquis de Sade, Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabakov and Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. I need circulation and often read books at the same time to cool down from whichever book has upset me
Last song I've listened to: Wahdon by Fairuz,
Last movie: it was either Three Thousand Years of Longing or The Dressmaker. I love these films sm.
Salty or sweet: why not both
Coffee or tea: tea.
Last series: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Nuff said.
Working on: gotta lose weight, brev. I'm getting chubby. I had my fortune read in Asia and she told me to stop rushing and indulge at my own pace and fix my sleeping schedule because I need sunshine. However, my wife whose not my wife lives across the world and I yearn for her presence... she also told me not to look down on men so much but they're making that goal very hard to achieve.
我爱你 ♡
Tagging: @thought--bubble @venmondiese @maryaandmorevna @knockingsoftly @dreamilypurplepillar @stcrviny @venmondiese
Thank you @neifilie
Last book: From Girl to Goddess: The Heroine's Journey through Myth and Legend by Valerie Estelle Frankel
Last song I've listened to: Džanum by Teya Dora
Last movie: Anaconda one with Jack Black 😅
Salty or sweet: sweet
Coffe or tea: coffee always all the time
Last series: I am following A knight of the Seven Kingdoms and The Pitt
Working on: my residency, my fanfic, being a better mom, improving as a dancer, but everything is lowkey on hold since I am waiting for really important results regarding my 2nd pregnancy.
Tagging: @morgenroede @lacebvnny @kyonkyon69 @kylosbrickhousebody
Thanks for tagging me @maryaandmorevna<3
Last book: The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, Aadujeevitham [Goat Life] by Benyamin, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry and The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid (im a commitment phobe when it comes to media so i read multiple books at the same time)
Last song I've listened to: Adada Mazhaida by Yuvan Shankar Raja (song from my native homeland Kerala) Last movie: The Handmaiden by Park Chan-wook (comfort sapphic movie during Valentine's Day date)
Salty or Sweet: Salty (like my personality)
Coffee or Tea: Coffee cause as established I like bitter things
Last series: Game of Thrones re-watch with my cousin (been a while since i had free time to watch a new series tbh)
Working on: Getting a full-time job, regularly going to the gym and committing to my slim waist routine, being a responsible vice president for my college, having a healthy diet and sleep schedule, finding a financially stable and kind partner, having a better understanding of finances and math and possibly coding my first ever otome visual novel
Discipline
Yandere! Lucifer x reader x Diavolo
Summary: Lucifer has to punish you. Diavolo agrees to help.
Tw: female reader, nsfw, non - con, dub - con, threesome, spanking, degradation, jealousy, lots of slut - shaming, orgasm denial, slight mindbreak(?), this turned very porny lolz
You had really fucked up this time, and it wasn’t hard to see. You could tell by the thick sickly – sweet aroma of cinnamon, honey, burnt coal and pure, unhidden, uncultivated wrath that was polluting the air. It was made obvious by the harsh handcuffs on your wrists that prevented you from moving even an inch. It manifested in the way he breathed down your neck, the cold sharp anger painfully obvious despite the warmth of his body radiating upon your bare back. Of course it wasn’t just that. It was his big strong hands roughly gripping your thighs in order to spread your legs as far as possible. It was his lips on your shoulders sending shivers down your spine, his tongue rolling over your wet tear-stained cheeks, feeding off the misery, his teeth sinking deep into your neck, poisoning your blood and weakening your senses. It was also the uncertainty of it all, the soft classic music in the background, carefully chosen to tackle your nerves, the open door and the darkness of corridor that it led to. It was everything with Lucifer, or nothing at all.
Tw: non - con, obsessive behavior, jealousy
My ko - fi <3
Thinking about yan!Lucifer being a little shit.
Lucifer, who hurts you and is purposely cruel about it. Holds you down and fucks into you with a harsh, unrelenting pace, shoves two of his fingers deep in your throat until you choke and your spit runs down your chin. The demon describes all the gruesome little details of finding each member of your family and tearing their limbs off, the sound of your friend's screams, then asks you whether you enjoy being split on his cock, whether you feel guilty for enjoying it despite knowing he's stolen everything from you, despite him taking everything you've ever loved away. You cry every time and he delights in licking the tears off your puffy red cheeks, the salty pearls of your despair the sweetest nectar on his tongue.
He's insanely jealous when it comes to his brothers, punishing you if you as much as mention any of their names. The Avatar of Pride can't seem to forget about the way they looked at you, how you let them touch you, and then he's burning with anger again and pulling on your hair as he bites on your lips until they are swollen and bruised, and then some more. He degrades you, insults you, makes you feel small and insignificant, nothing but a captive toy to his every whim, an obediet, malleable plaything. A pretty doll for him to manhandle when angry or sad, or frustrated.
The oldest brother takes pride in your isolation, keeping you under lock day and night. There is some twisted satisfaction in the thought that you exist for his eyes only, that your world now revolves around and only consist of him. Him, him, him. You're barely human without him. You're his treasure, his possession, and none of his brothers get to have you now that his favorite bird is in a gilded cage with no key or way out.
Lucifer, who hates himself a bit more every time he sees the sorrow you sometimes let slip into your otherwise blank, lifeless stare. Submission looks beautiful on you, and while he believes pain brings out your best features, he can't stand the idea of you being genuinely hurt or miserable. Yet you are, that much is obvious. The Avatar of lust was never one to read people and their emotions, but your unhappiness is clear, evident in the way you crawl up into yourself when he enters the room, your jaw tightens, your eyes widen, white like snow. He can hear you breathing deep and slow, can feel the way you shake against him at night under the sheets. You never relax, you never smile. You only do what he tells you to, and it kills him. Because he knows it's his fault. Because he knows he could never be a better man, a less selfish man, and give up his own happiness for yours.
The Fine Print
This is a 500 followers special, babes. I wanted to write something longer (and very self - indulgent lolz), so it took more time than usual. Thank you for all the support ^^ Hope you enjoy this ;)
Words: 6.6k
Sumarry: You are Jumin Han’s housekeeper, but he’s the one who keeps you in the house ;)
tw: female reader, illness mention, abuse of power, jealousy, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, age gap, boss/employee, manupulation, imprisonment, kinda slow burn, financial manipulation, daddy issues?, slight generalization, victim blaming at the end
You were nervous, terribly so. Your palms were sweaty and sticky, as if you were playing with glue minutes ago, and your cheeks felt warm to the touch. Your eyes were still slightly red and puffy from all the crying you had done last night after your father had called to inform you that your mother was indeed sick. Sicker than you or anyone else had thought, in fact, and she needed treatment right now. It was either surgery, intense physical therapy or inevitable death. That’s why you had to do this despite being nothing more than an unqualified incompetent fresh out of high school 19-year old girl. You had to try.
You had seen the article with its enormous yellow title all across the first newspaper page – “C&R International’s CEO-in-line is looking for a housekeeper”, it said in big bold letters of pitch black ink. Then your tearful gaze had wondered bellow, skipping through the countless sentences explaining how Jumin Han (the infamous son of Chairman Han) was in urgent need of a home assistant, someone to look after his luxurious penthouse and keep his „family” in check, the latter only consisting of his beloved cat and his rich wine collection. Of course the provided sum at the end of the entry was ungodly with its intimidating six digits that caused a deep sigh to die on your parted lips, chaffed from the nervous biting and the cold winter air.
Sequel to this very ugly Johann drawing I made last year. Previous drawing under the cut.
... oh
This piece takes place in the gilded age. With an evil new money train tycoon. Enjoy! New Money versus Old money drama, except he likes you. Requested by @blightedsaint
★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★
Yandere Drabbles: Rags to Riches
Yandere New Money Tycoon x Fem Reader
★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★
TW: slow burn, kind of a onesided enemies to lovers, Yandere behavior, relationship dynamic that should not be romanticized in real life, TOXIC, ML IS A BASTARD, jealousy, power imbalance, insecure man, classism, reader is an illegitimate child, sexism, gilded age social norms, arranged marriage, reader is unhappy, obsession, this is horror for some people, and baby trapping (mentioned)
First Lucy artwork of 2026 , breaking into Tumblr ✨
Hi!
I am very excited (and honored!) that my short story about Jaehaera becoming queen, Viscum Album, has been nominated for the AsoiafFanfiction Awards 2025 in the One-shot category. It would mean a lot if you voted (just in case you liked it, ofc!).
Here is the voting form.
You can check all the different fics and categories here, or here. I found some gems through this subreddit, so definitely check it out.
Vote and support Viscum Album
He's so pretty😍
misty invasion - no restraint
━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: xavier x female reader (afab)
━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some/little plot
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 5k words (jesus i even cut 1k out)
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, spoilers AND alterations to ‘no restraint’ (xavier’s misty invasion card), switch!xavier, slightly dark!xavier, super possessive!xav, so much pussy eating, nose stroking clit, cumming on pussy then using as lube, mating press, sensory play but not actually, thigh biting, ankle kissing, foot massage, slight finger sucking, slight dub-con somno at the end, use of y/n
━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | sylus's version | raf's version | zayne's version
━ ✧.˖ A/N: sorry this is late! I’ve been dealing with some harassment but won’t get into that here. You guys have been waiting so patiently for this one and i’m so excited to finally share it with you guys. I love writing and it’s incredible to have people to share my passion with, so please enjoy xavier fuckers!
part three is our dear xavier! idk how this one got so long i cut 1k words and its still 5k LOL somehow longer than sylus’s? i haven’t written for xavier in sooo long so this was both challenging but fun! I miss him <3 I wrote xavier as more dark!xav than the soft xavier, but there’s definitely a good mix of both
THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.
✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖
As a Hunter, you’ve had to thoroughly train your senses to be as adept and and accurate as possible, to keep yourself, your fellow Hunters, and the citizens of Linkon safe.
Sight. The ability to track every micromovement a Wanderer made and react in milliseconds. Being able to quickly spot things that don’t belong, indicating something more sinister.
Hearing. Being able to detect even the mutest of sounds. The muffled shuffling of leaves, a slight creak in the wind that could warn you of incoming danger.
Smell. The almost imperceptible scent of different species of Wanderers, each one specific to each genus, able to provide valuable information on what to expect.
Touch. The distinct textures of your different UNICORN issued tools and weapons, the simplest grooves and ridges helping you quickly discern what is what in moments of life or death.
What you hadn’t necessarily needed was the sense of taste, but that wouldn’t be a sense you’d need as a Hunter. Right?
Aemond Targaryen in the Game of Thrones: Dragonfire mobile game.
📎 @ westerosies
HUNTR/X ✨
@maryaandmorevna tagging my dear aspiring writers