summary: your husband’s jealousy deepens in Ashford
tw: abusive marriage, dubcon
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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.
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
a/n: first post on tumblr so plsss lmk if the format is bad
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“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.
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.
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.)
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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)
Yandere Tycoon who had been given your hand in marriage to embarrass him. After all, you were an illegitimate child and not fully from Old Money blood. Your father thought it would make Felix understand that his place in the upper class would never be with the old money, but he wasn’t offended at all. No. Felix eagerly took you in not because of a fleeting feeling of attraction, but to spite your old man.
Yandere Tycoon who let you do whatever you pleased in his opulent manor. Not like he loved you or anything. You were merely a tool of your father and he highly doubted you were sent to spy on him. He knew you grew up as a commoner, he doubted you had the capacity to ever betray him. You were still naive to believe in love. How childish. This was an arranged marriage, nothing more.
Yandere Tycoon who rolled his eyes at your feeble attempts of conversation or affection. You two were merely arranged to marry. You needed to understand your place now before you truly believed you mattered to him. Felix often belittled you by bringing up your humble background whenever you tried to be near him.
Yandere Tycoon who often brushed you off or ignored you. He had an empire to build, he didn’t have time to be distracted by the fickle feelings of the heart. No matter how pretty those eyes were, Felix wouldn’t fall for you! You were the daughter of his business rival and he’d be damned if he let you get in the way of all his hard work even if you constantly went out of your way to care for him. Even if he too had at one point been a commoner himself, Felix saw himself above you since he had aggressively pursued wealth by any means necessary. He was very mean to you and those poisonous words slowly damaged your self esteem to the point that you were extremely unhappy. Yet your husband didn’t notice since he was too caught up in his endless chase for wealth and social acceptance.
Yandere Tycoon who slowly began to ‘tolerate’ you. Felix no longer brushed you off whenever you’d politely greet him. He’d give you a small head nod of acknowledgment. He also ate the tea sandwiches you made him as he worked in his office. They weren’t too bad and neither was the tea you made him. Felix was honestly a little flattered you remembered his preferences, but he’d never tell you that. After all, you were still a commoner. You were beneath him and his goals.
Yandere Tycoon who enjoyed the silent meals with you. He liked how you didn’t endlessly chatter or bother him. It made him less stressed to not have such a chatty wife after a long day of work trying to scam people out of their lands so he could build more railroads. Perhaps he’d buy you a gift for being so tolerable?
Yandere Tycoon who bought you a gold necklace one day and insisted on putting it on your neck himself. He shivered when he touched your soft skin. He didn’t think a commoner would have nice skin, but you did. You were as soft as silk. A fact that made him tremble a bit. He wondered if you felt that little spark too?yet he didn’t think it was romantic. It had to be physical attraction only… right? Wrong.
Yandere Tycoon who nearly shattered his glass in his hand at a ball when another man asked you to dance with him. If a look could kill, that man would’ve been dead. Felix had amassed a fortune quickly through his industrial efforts with his railroad business yet these old money bastards still didn’t respect him. He belonged here! He had worked so hard to be a part of this crowd and he would be damned if he let anyone challenge his social prestige by openly flirting with his wife.
Yandere Tycoon who slipped into the dance and made sure everyone knew you were his. He made sure his waltz was perfect. He didn’t understand why you weren’t swooning. You used to eagerly try to gain his attention and now you had it, was that not enough? You weren’t looking down on him too, were you? You had no right… you were a half blood. Nothing more. You should be grateful you married him. You’d never have a chance at this chance of living in wealth this in your measly life if you hadn’t been given to him. So smile at him! Smile at him like you used to when you first walked through those oak doors to his manor!
Yandere Tycoon who began to shower you with gifts. Jewelry, flowers, dresses, whatever material item he thought suited you would be sent your way yet you never acknowledged his efforts. Why were you being so difficult? Didn’t you understand your husband wanted you? Your husband was Felix Vanderbilt, the wealthiest train industrialist in America! Why weren’t you smiling at him anymore? He wanted to see your smiles again… yet he didn’t understand that he had broken you down for years in this bitter arranged marriage.
Yandere Tycoon who went into a jealous rage whenever you talked to any male house staff. How dare you smile and laugh with the butler! He had the poor butler moved to another wing! If he saw you with a chef? He’d fire him! You were his wife. You shouldn’t be fraternizing with commoners, because you no longer were one.
Yandere Tycoon who didn’t understand why you cried when he brought up children. You should be happy he wants offspring with you! You were going to bear the next to the mighty Vanderbilt name! Plus, you could never leave him if you had his heirs. There was no need for tears because he was your husband. And he’d make sure you never forgot that.
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.
━ .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?
In the soft glow coming from the protocore you and him had confiscated from an illegal protocore trade, Xavier sat at the foot of the bed you’d be sharing tonight. The soft orange light emanating from the protocore casts a vaguely romantic atmosphere around the two of you. It was suffocating and addicting all at once.
Perhaps it was your fault, you’d teased him, claiming the protocore in question had dulled your senses, a side effect from its unique Protocurves. A clear and obvious lie.
But you hadn’t expected him to respond so boldly.
To test your sense of sight, moving from his spot across the hotel room to approach the foot of the bed, sitting so closely that you could see the droplets of water dripping down his bare chest, gliding along the grooves of his muscled abdomen.
To test your sense of smell, leaning in so teasingly close to you that the soft clean smell of his pheromones, akin to fresh laundry blowing in the spring breeze, invaded your very essence.
To test your sense of hearing, whispering dangerously sultry but innocent words under his breath to taunt you, seeing if you could hear how much he wanted you.
To test your sense of touch, reaching out to grasp your face into his fingers, warm from the hot shower he’d taken. So daringly caressing your warm cheek in his palm, with a heated desire that you knew could consume you whole.
It was truly all enough to drive you utterly insane, at the point of no return, nearly jumping him right then and there.
Perhaps Xavier could see that, deciding to give you a temporary reprieve from all the “sensory tests” to complete a test of his own
His voice is a faint murmur, “Before the rain stops, is there anything you want to do?” His words sound less like a question and more like a plea. Bordering on a demand.
At his words, your eyes trail to the body lotion you’d set on the nightstand next to the Protocore. You’d just been about to apply it before Xavier had come out of the shower. You bite your lip at the thought of his strong hands rubbing the expensive cream into your aching muscles. Xavier’s eyes follow yours, and he smiles gently, standing up to grab it from the side table.
He unscrews it, the soft scent of strawberries wafting in the space between you. Under the soft glow of the Protocore, Xavier’s face is flushed, his breath unusually heavy. His eyes are focussed on the body lotion, but you can just barely see the stormy heat behind them.
“What, are we testing your senses now?” you tease him, sitting up with your hands hugging your knees.
Xavier sits back down on the bed, the mattress dipping at your feet. Your toes brush against the soft silk of his bathrobe, the knot even looser now, leaving far too little to imagination. His voice is gentle, but urgent, “The Protocore’s Protocurves can…dull a person's senses.”
He places his palm gently on the underside of your thighs, pulling your bare calves toward him. His touch is impossibly soft, yet strangely enough it leaves your skin burning. You let your body be guided towards him until his chest is practically pressed against your knee. With your bare calf in his hands, it makes it difficult to think. But you do your best to speak, “So…are you affected by it too?”
As Xavier smears the lotion across your flushed skin, he murmurs, “Maybe.” He takes another scoop of the cream into his fingers.
“It’s possible…I won’t be able to feel you anymore from now on.” His eyes are trained on your leg as he speaks, fingers wandering from your knee to your exposed thigh. Though you both know his senses were, and would be, perfectly fine, the longing in both his low voice and dark eyes felt completely real.
As his hands rub into your skin, his fingers briefly find their way under your nightdress. He leans down, resting his chin on your knee. He practically hugs your legs to his chest, the opened jar of lotion still in hand. WIth his curious fingers on your thigh, under the lace hem of your nightdress, you try and distract him from your flushed face. You take a small dollop of the lotion in his hands, teasingly brushing it to his nose.
“What’s the fragrance? Can you smell it?” Xavier’s face on your bare knee doesn’t move, but his eyes flit up to yours, dark and amused.
He has a barely perceptible smirk, fingers stroking small shapes into the area where your lace nightie meets the skin of your exposed thighs, “Strawberry.” He sounds uncharacteristically self-assured, his chin moving down so that he can smell your skin.
You shiver as you feel the cool inhale of his nose against your knee. His lips ghost along your leg as he breathes in the scent, lingering for so long you’re nearly quivering against his hold. His hand grips your thigh possessively as he murmurs, “Or maybe...that scent…is cherry.” The way he buries his face into your legs, inhaling so deeply, is nearly enough to have you passing out.
He comes back to nuzzle his chin into your knee, glancing up at you in an expression that is eerily dark and soft all at once, “Was I right?” His words are gentle but there’s an exhilarating taunt underneath them. It only makes you want to taunt him back.
You reach for his ear, noticing it’s unusually peachy pink, stroking along the soft lobe, “Here’s another test. What do you think my hand is doing right now?” Xavier’s eyes close at your touch, his breath heavy and hot against your thigh. His brows furrow, and if it weren’t for the way he leaned into your touch for more, you’d almost think he was in pain.
As his eyes flicker open to meet yours, you take his cheek into your hands. There’s a vague haziness in them, almost like he’s having a hard time keeping them open, drunk off even your slightest touches. He sits up, leaning into your hand.
“You need to do it harder,” he urges, desperation making itself known in his sultry voice. Your hand trails down his ear, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw and making its way to Xavier’s bobbing neck.
Your fingers move intentionally, trailing down to his collar until they rest on his chest, “What about now?”
Though his chest heaves, his blue eyes smolder with an unbridled confidence, “...Too gentle.” He looks at you with an unspoken plea in his eyes, begging you to touch him more. Harder.
You let your shaking fingers toy torturously with the reddened skin on his sharp collarbone, swirling your fingertips on his pounding chest. You bite your lip, enjoying the way his breath comes out in needy pants, the look of desperation on his parted lips growing stronger by the second, “If you still haven’t felt it…”
Xavier continues your thought, cerulean eyes filled with a desperate longing, “If I haven’t felt it…” You gasp as he grabs your wrist forcefully, bringing it back up to his face.
His grip is commanding, caressing your palm with his soft cheek, his breath fanning the inside of your hand. His movements are almost imperceptible, until you feel his lips closing over your middle finger. You’re unable to stop the shiver as his tongue grazes against your trembling finger, his lips caressing your skin in his mouth.
Xavier desperately hopes you keep your eyes trained on his, and not the embarrassingly prominent tent under his thin robe, throbbing for your attention. His breath is hot as he pants against your finger, “...does this mean I’m a lost cause?”
You pull your hand away, unable to withstand the effect his lips enclosing in your fingers is having on your body, your thighs clenching together under your own robe and nightgown.
“What should we do?” you murmur before softly clutching his shoulder, pulling him closer until you can whisper into his ear for a little hearing test. You let your lips graze his reddened earlobe, before whispering.
“Xavier.”
It comes out far more sultry and seductive than you’d originally intended, betraying your body’s true desires. Xavier apparently shares those same desires, because as he hears you gasp out his name his body has a visceral reaction.
His heart pounds so rapidly he’s almost sure you’d be able to hear it, his muscled chest rising and falling in an irregular rhythm. His face looks almost anguished, fighting an internal war against himself. He glances towards you, his eyes dark with unbridled desire.
“Oops. Looks like something broke,” you grin cheekily, thoroughly amused by his reaction, fueled with confidence.
Xavier’s eyes are so dark they’re nearly black as they drink in the sight of your beautiful smile, as you sit with your knees up on the mattress. The next thing you know, Xavier’s is pushing you down, your back hitting the plush mattress and your robe fluttering open to reveal your flimsy nightdress.
Xavier stands above you, before his hand comes down to grip the mattress beside your head, pinning you down. His eyes trail up your body, savoring every exposed centimeter of soft skin, before boring into your beautiful eyes. His body is pressed gently into yours, and you can very much make out just how excited he’s become. The area between your thighs moistens at the feeling of his arousal pressed into your stomach.
“Your sensory test isn’t over yet,” he grunts, his face tortuously close to yours. His eyes are hooded dangerously, an imminent threat reflected in his ocean blue eyes. He leans forward, so close his torrid breath fans against your parted lips.
“Let’s do a taste test,” he murmurs, eyes shutting as he finally closes the distance between your lips in a toe-curling passionate embrace. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, which you happily part to give him access. He moans into you as he indulges in how delicious you taste, quickly addicted to your soft and warm tongue against his.
When he finally pulls away, he’s a complete and utter mess. His breath is uneasy and rapid, his body contorting with the rhythm of his pounding chest. His fingers have found their way into yours, effectively pinning you securely against the bed under his hard body.
“Xavier…” you gasp, squeezing his fingers, “Even someone like you can lose your composure, huh?”
As your bodies heave together, Xavier takes thick and deep lungfuls of your scent, his face buried into your neck.
“One doesn’t need that much composure,” he groans before diving back into the crook of your neck, lips latching onto your pulse.
As he holds you, gently suckling at your neck, you prod him, “What are you thinking of?”
Xavier hesitates, his lips hovering centimeters above your skin, before murmuring, “Something…indecent.”
You bite back your grin, thoroughly enjoying how needy he’s becoming. With his body still atop of yours, you bring your lips to his ear letting your wet lips stroke against his earlobe.
“Xavier…” you purr, “Tell me what you’re thinking of.”
You can see Xavier’s neck throb with a thick gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly. It’s then he decides he’s done playing games.
He sits up eerily calmly, until he’s on his knees at your feet. His fingers trail down your bare thighs, to your calves, and to your feet. You squirm at his fleeting trail of touches, squeaky moans of anticipation slipping from your lips.
As his hands slide down your legs, he lifts your foot into his hands, fingers kneading your aching sole. You moan, your eyes squeezing shut at just how wonderfully Xavier knows your body, knows how to touch you.
You’re so caught up in the feeling of his hands on your ankles that you don’t notice the way he cups your calf, raising your leg into the air as he caresses it. It’s not until the distinct feeling of his warm lips meet the bottom of your calf do your eyes screw open.
Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight before you, Xavier placing a feathery trail of kisses down your calf all the way to your foot. As he tenderly kisses your ankle, his eyes open to watch you with a hungry gaze.
“The Protocore’s effects…I think we need a stronger test,” he mutters, his mouth rubbing against your ankle still. He sets your leg on his shoulder, gently spreading your thighs apart.
You blush as your legs part, leaving little to imagination as Xavier situates himself between your legs, one propped on his muscled shoulder and one hooked above his forearm, “Xavier?”
He doesn’t respond, eyes trained on the glistening patch of dampness that adorns your panties. It takes all of him not to drool right over your half naked form right then and there. As his head lowers to kiss your thighs, you tremble at his proximity to your throbbing cunt that leaks with desire and arousal.
“I-Is this…strong enough?” you squeak, his tongue lapping slow circles around the areas his teeth graze. His fingers dig into the plush of your thighs as he indulges in the taste of your legs, eyeing the beautiful way your panties are creasing against the lips of your pussy. He can practically feel the heat coming off you and it makes him bite hard.
You squeal, your back arching up and fingers reaching down to pull at his soft hair. It’s impossible not to enjoy the sharp graze of his canines and the contrastingly adoring caress of his tongue. Too distracted by the pleasure, you don’t feel the embarrassing slick dripping down your thighs.
But Xavier does.
He detaches his lips from your thighs, briefly admiring the handful of flowering red bruises littered against both your plush legs.
“It’s…stronger. But this…” he trails off, and that’s when you feel his fingers hooking your soaked panties to the side. You yelp as his fingers languidly swipe at your folds, coating himself in your arousal and bringing it up to his mouth.
You watch in a mixture of embarrassment and desire as he slips his fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around his digits and eyes shut in utter bliss.
When his blonde lashes finally flutter open, his hazy pupils are dilated amongst the sea of azure, piercing into your own.
“This, I can taste,” he grins gently at you. It’s so effortlessly Xavier, yet something sinister lurks beneath his soft smile. Something that makes you shake to your very core.
You don’t have time to ponder the darkness behind his smile, because Xavier is gripping you by your hips, bringing the apex of your thighs to his waiting mouth, salivating at the beautiful sight of your exposed cunt. His eyes flit from your core to your eyes, your upper body propped up on your elbows as you watch his heated gaze devour you.
“Please…” Xavier rasps, his voice guttural and desperate. The proximity of his face to your weeping cunt lets you feel his hot breath fan against your quivering pussy, “Please let me.”
You’re speechless, so you nod fervently, gripping his soft hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Xavier wastes no time, burying himself into you. You gasp, spine curling at the force of his demanding lips against your cunt.
You’d think Xavier had been starved for days, the way he latches onto your lips, his tongue eagerly lapping at your slit, savoring every drop of your sweet essence. You thrash at the unrelenting pleasure, as Xavier’s bruising grip holds you in place.
“Let me enjoy you, please,” he groans, nose rubbing into your clit deliciously, “Who knows if I’ll ever be able to taste you again?”
You whimper at his filthy words, trying to stay still as he ravishes you with his skilled tongue. The lewd slurps and moans that come from him are enough to drive you to the edge of insanity, unable to contain your furious writhing. Xavier only digs his fingers harder into the plush of your thighs, doing his best to keep you in place.
Xavier moans into you, the vibrations of his pleasured sounds thrumming straight into your body. He doesn’t let a single droplet of your nectar go to waste, his tongue lapping diligently. There’s absolutely no shortage of it, as his pointed nose brushes against your clit, his tongue stroking sweetly into your lips.
“You taste like heaven, Y/N,” Xavier moans into your folds. The vibrations of his filthy words send you reeling and you can barely hear him, only able to respond in the whiniest moans, too wrapped up in the pleasure his mouth so skillfully brings you.
“Xavier!” you cry, toes digging into the ropes of muscles on his back.
You can vaguely feel one of Xavier’s hands abandon your thigh, moving to free his cock from under his loose robe. You can’t see much, but you can see the way his forearm jerks up and down, the veins in his arms bulging as he pleasures himself, fueled by the taste of you.
“O-oh f-fuck!” you cry, your back arched, the soles of your feet pressing into Xavier’s back, “Xavier…p-please don’t – nngh – stop!”
Through your widely spread legs, you can see just how aroused Xavier is by your pleas. His fingers can barely wrap around his thick girth. They move up and down effortlessly, coated in his copious pre-cum. It honestly looked like he already came with just how much of his slick was smeared on himself. He’s so impossibly angry and red as he thrusts into his own fist, your tongue unconsciously licking your lips at the sight.
You’re only snapped out of your mesmerized staring when his lips latch onto your clit, tongue lapping eagerly against the throbbing nub of nerves. His lips suckling at your clit, tongue stroking so sweetly, is just enough to have you coming completely undone all over Xavier’s face.
You try to pull always as you feel the warm gush coming, but Xavier only holds you down harder with his arm wrapped around your thigh, his hands jerking up and down his leaking erection even more desperation. With nowhere to run, your body thrashes erratically in his forceful arm. Your back arches into the air, your head digging into the plush mattress, as you squirt over Xavier’s insistent tongue.
You’re well into the depths of overstimulation, feebly pushing his head away, whispering brokenly, “X-Xavier. S’too much, please.”
But he can’t seem to hear you, too wrapped up in your taste, in you. Your body curls in a stinging pleasure as he continues to devour you, positively starved.
The lewd slurps of his face in your wet thighs, your unabashed moans and cries of ecstasy, the taste of your release against his greedy tongue, and his forceful grip on his cock drive him to his own orgasm.
He forces himself to pull away, his lips wet with your slick, your body collapsing but still slightly elevated with your calf thrown over his shoulder. With his position kneeling at your feet, your right leg still by his neck, his cock spurts right onto your quivering and overstimulated pussy.
“H-holy,” Xavier groans breathlessly, hands still jerking himself up and down as rope after rope lands on your glistening cunt. His spend is so deliciously hot against your sensitive skin that you can’t stop the full body tremors that wrack your body. His copious streams of cum start to drip off your quivering cunt, pooling on the mattress beneath you.
Xavier leans forward, clutching your thigh as his body heaves with an overwhelming satisfaction. His fingers dig into your already bruised thighs, his breath heavy and desperate.
You want to giggle at his ruined state, stroking his back teasingly with your toes, your calf still resting on his shoulder. Your fingers reach for his ear to caress his cheek and tease him with your words from earlier, “So little composure. Adorable”
Xavier’s gaze, longing and soft, twitches. Before you know it, your back is flat against the bed once more, both your legs pressed against your chest. Your feet hang in the air above your head, Xavier’s heaving body pressed on top of you, something hard and wet pressing into your still trembling core.
Out of sheer surprise, you cry out, “X-Xavier?” Your hands instinctively come up to cup his face.
Xavier doesn’t speak, his eyes trained on your cunt as he runs his tip up and down your folds. When he finally looks up at you, there’s a dark almost feral look in the storm of his cerulean eyes. A look of unbridled animalistic heat.
He bends down, his beautiful face dangerously close to yours as he smirks, “Isn’t this what you wanted, angel?”
You shiver at his unusually edged words, eyes widening as you nod gently. Unable to deny the truth of his words. You knew it, and he knew it. You absolutely always wanted him, especially when he was this unhinged.
Xavier smiles, it’s deceptively gentle as you can see the dangerous glint in his eyes, “I know, Y/N. So, please. Let me give it to you.” Though he begs, you can tell he’s not really asking. Not that you minded. You’d give him absolutely everything.
So you nod, peering up at him through your eyelashes. Xavier smiles, finger stroking your cheek. With his other hand, he takes his cock, rubbing his cockhead into your sopping folds, smearing his cum messily around. He’d spurt so much milky seed onto your pussy that it quite literally felt like a bottle of lube had been squirted onto you.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers. For a brief second, the bright light returns to Xavier’s eyes as he adoringly watches you, with so much affection in his azure eyes. It’s gone just as quickly as it comes, his cock splitting you apart as he thrusts into you.
You cry out, unable to do anything but take him, your legs caged against both your bodies. The mating press he has you in is so mean, his hard strong body so imposing as he thrusts into you. It’s so easy for him to slide inside you, his cum on your skin even slicker than lube.
Xavier’s breathy moans wash over you at every single mean thrust, his smoldering eyes never leaving yours as he ruts into you like a madman. A man positively starved. And only one thing could satisfy him.
His hands press into the mattress beside your head, his entire body boxing you in, with only your thighs separating you. You wish he could hold you closer, press deeper into you, as deep as his cock was currently in your throbbing pussy.
“X-Xav…” your squeal. The position he has you in gives him easy access to your most sensitive spots. Xavier only moans in response, not typically a man of many words when it comes to being buried in your guts.
Which is why you’re surprised when he grits out, “Mine.”
You’re so surprised, mind so clouded with his massive girthy cock, that you gasp out, “W-What?”
Xavier’s smirk is faint, almost imperceptible, “You’re mine. I would never leave you.”
His pointed thrusts make you cry out in pleasure, losing your train of thought again. His smile grows more confident at your inability to speak, “Isn’t that what you told James? That your partner left you?”
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, before realizing he's talking about the man you’d been flirting with for information at the protocore trade, “J-James? You – hnngh – y-you mean Henrik’s idiot – nngh – bodyguard?”
Xavier drives into you with an even more mind-numbing intensity at the mention of another man. You can see his jaw twitches, his eyes swimming with shadowy emotions.
“What do you think he took you up to the sixth floor for?” he growls, uncharacteristically and darkly gruff, “For this?”
To punctuate his point he slams his pelvis into your ass, the lewd pap sound of wet skin against wet skin deafeningly loud.
“It’s too bad for him. You’re mine.” His words are a sweet threat, with no violence and all the passion in the world behind them.
The raw possession in his voice makes you approach your orgasm far too quickly. Your thighs shake uncontrollably at the strain, but even more so at the pleasure Xavier drives into your gummy walls. His cock is so thick that your body burns with pleasure as he stretches you to your limit, your walls sucking him tightly, unwilling to let go.
Xavier moans at the unbelievably incredible feeling of your walls tightening against him, trying to wring him into you. Xavier’s thrusts become more erratic as he comes closer to his own release, and you’re desperate to cum with him, your orgasm impossibly iminent.
You know just how to send him over the edge, as you take his jaw into your fingers, his chest pressed into the fat of your thighs as he folds you quite literally in half. Xavier looks surprised but lets his face be guided to yours, his eyes still holding glimmers of shadows held back by a thin shred of restraint.
“Xavier,” you whisper, trying to keep your orgasm at bay so you can experience simultaneously with the blonde haired man deliciously rearranging your guts, “I’m yours, always.”
Xavier’s eyes darken, his eyebrows furrowing, as his body responds to your sweet words. His thrusts are harder, rougher, and all the more forceful and demanding. He’s utterly desperate to feel you cum atop his cock, his beautiful girl. Entirely and completely his.
“Yeah? Then cum for me, please.” His voice is a guttural growl, matching the animalistic intensity of his body pounding into yours. But he stutters just a bit, as you can practically feel the veins in his thick cock throbbing against your pulsing walls.
With Xavier’s intense eyes on yours, your body folded mind numbingly against his hard chiseled body, his filthy possessive words fanning across your lips, it’s impossible to keep your orgasm back any longer.
You cum with a strangled cry of his name, your elbows bending so your fingers can furiously claw at the sheets by your head. Xavier moans out at how tightly your cunt grips him amidst your climax, absolutely forcing the orgasm out of him.
You’re a moaning whining mess as Xavier fucks his seed into you. Even after his first orgasm, there’s so much cum, both inside and outside. The area where your bodies are joined is a sticky mess of cum and saliva.
Xavier is no better, the grunts and babbles streaming from his own mouth an absolute symphony to your ears.
“That’s it, love,” he rasps, “So good for me. Such a good girl. My good girl.”
You stroke Xavier’s soft blonde hair as his thrusts slow to an eventual stop. His softening cock is still in you, and you wince as you can vaguely feel it slipping out. Your hips scream in discomfort, your thighs still pressed firmly into your chest as Xavier gasps for air above you.
You whimper as he shifts, and instantly Xavier is back to his usual soft self, fawning over you, “Are you okay?” It’s honestly insane how quickly he switches, because as his blue eyes search yours, you notice the darkness is gone. All that’s left is that starry glimmering sea of ultramarine, soft, concerned, and loving.
“H-heavy,” you whine, tapping at his thick shoulders. Xavier’s off of you in a flash, his soft cock slipping out as sits on his knees before you. He hovers over you, careful not to put any weight on you, as he brushes your tangled hair off of your sweaty forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing along your flushed cheek, “Was I…Did I take it too far?”
“No, never,” you mumble happily, draping your arms over his neck. Through his gentle smile that could move the stars, you can see how exhausted Xavier is, but he continues to stroke circles into your skin. His hands reach down to massage your bruised thighs, hickeys littering every inch of you. The serene intimacy of the moment is enough to lull you towards sleep, despite the mess between your legs.
–
You must’ve nodded off for a few minutes, because when you open your bleary eyes you see Xavier between your legs, carefully wiping the sticky mess away.
“Xav, s’okay,” you whisper sleepily, stirring in his careful hands and barely able to string together complete sentences, “Clean tomorrow, sleep now.”
“It’s okay, angel,” he murmurs, his voice so warm and dreamy. He holds you gently in place as he continues to wipe you off, “Go back to sleep.”
Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his hands soothing your aching muscles, losing the fight against sleep, “You don’t feel tired?”
Xavier chuckles, the sound meeting your ears even in your half-conscious state, “I can still feel. But I think I may need another…taste test.”
You can hear the mischief in his voice even if you’re too exhausted to open your eyes.
“Just sleep honey, let me take care of you.”
Something about the playful heat in his voice makes you doubt he’s just going to be cleaning you up with the warm towel he had in his hands. And the thought of that excites you beyond belief, even as you succumb to sleep.
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