He Won’t Get Out Of My Head. He Simply Won’t.

Silent Passions

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List

Synopsis: You and Aemond had been promised to one another before you were even born. And when the time came for you to meet, all were curious to see what was to come when soon to be spouses only shared one thing in common: your want of silence. 

Warnings: Unwanted sexual advances from Daemon Targaryen, ¿Softer Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 8,678 (bear with me pls)

A/N: Based on a request where they wanted "Aemond x Tyrell Reader (which has the personality of Francesca Bridgerton), and when they are about to get married, Daemon tries to seduce her, making Aemond distrust her."

A flower promised to a dragon. Long before you were born, you, a daughter of House Tyrell, had been the intended to be wed to the second son of the King, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Your mother was one of the scarce friends the Queen had made in the court after her estrangement with Princess Rhaenyra. You were born in the walls of the keep, the queen in attendance of your birth, smiling widely as the nurse announced that you were a girl— she was the first person to hold you after your mother and the wet nurse who handed you to her. “Oh, such a beauty she is…” The Queen cooed as she held you in her arms. Your mother smiled through her tiredness at how quickly the queen had taken to you. 

“She would make the most wonderful princess,” The queen sighed and returned you to your mother, turning her head towards the door where your promised groom already stood. Prince Aemond waddled to his mother. The boy was only two years old but was already meeting his intended. The queen took her son into her arms, lifting him up to see his future bride, who whined in her mother’s arms. Aemond furrowed his brows, stuck out his tongue, and made a noise of disapproval when he saw the pink-faced babe. “That’s not quite nice… show respect for your future wife,” The queen smiled and brushed the silvery locks of her son. 

That was the first and last time you and the prince met. Your mother and father returned to Highgarden as their stay in court was cut short with your father needing to return to his seat. For the first six and ten years of your life, you were promised to a man you have never met. Bearing the plight of women before you, promised to a man, not because of your will or your love for him but merely for status and to appease those who stood on high stature. You were defenseless as they paved your life before you, forcing you down a road that was often traveled by but many did not wish to cross. 

“We are to return to Kingslanding.” Your father suddenly announced. The dinner table went silent. The boisterous laughs and jests of your three older brothers and the babbles of your younger twin brother and sister growing hushed. “Why?” You asked quietly, breaking the silence. You pet the fur of your beloved feline, trying to calm your nerves as your mind brought forth a reason. “The queen requested our presence, dearest… it is time to meet your betrothed.” Your mother smiled and took hold of your hand, lightly squeezing it in comfort, thought you felt none. You lowered your gaze and tried to shut out the return of loud voices around the table. 

It was not that it was unexpected… it was just… wholly overwhelming. You took a few moments and a few more bites of your supper before excusing yourself from the loud table, needing peace and quiet. “Are you well, sister?” Your oldest brother, Edward, asked in concern, pausing his conversation with your other brothers, Edgar and Edmund. “Yes, I’m just tired.” You said with a small smile and left the dinner table with your pet. 

The matter of your betrothal with the prince was not at all an old matter. Ever since you were a child, they have instilled in your mind that you were Prince Aemond’s intended. That one day, you will be his bride. It was a subject you found troubling— for how can one live at ease, being promised to a man they had never met before? How could one truly live their life if their purpose is only to be married off— treated practically as a broodmare. 

 You were alone with your thoughts until you heard the faint knock on your door and your brother, Edmund, slowly opening it and peeking his head inside your chambers. “Yes?” You asked and sat straighter, removing your eyes from the fire you stared upon. 

“I am just making certain that you’re well.” He said softly and fully opened your chamber door, stepping in and bringing you a piece of cake for you had missed the dessert portion of your dinner. “Thank you,” You say gratefully, but simply place the piece of your favorite dessert on the table beside you, making your brother quickly grow suspicious. “What’s wrong?” Edmund asked in concern, taking his seat beside you. 

You gave him a forced smile and shook your head. “Nothing, I told you, I’m just tired.” You say softly, but your brother’s frown severed. “You’re clearly lying— no matter how tired you are, you always have energy for cake.” Your brother sighed, making you sigh as well. “I’m… I’m scared,” You admitted. Your brother nodded in understanding, “I would be surprised if you weren’t,” 

You twiddled with the ends of your hair as you and your brother were enveloped in a heavy, suffocating silence. “It’s just— I have been prepared for this since I was a babe… It’s all I know, but at the same time, I know nothing. I have no idea about him. What my life would be like after our marriage.” You say, your voice trembling with fear. “And I have been hearing rumors…” you say cautiously, your eyes upon your pet, who slept soundly on your lap.  “Rumors? You are never one to listen to rumors, "Your brother said in surprise; his sister was always indifferent to whispers and gossip. 

“Last summer, our cousin Eliza had gone to court… and there she observed Prince Aemond for me. To report to me what he was like because I had no idea of my future husband,” You began to recount the favor your cousin had done for you to ease your nerves about the marriage. “And?” Your brother leaned closer in curiosity. “She said he was… cold, aloof. Standoffish— ruthless when training with his sword. Indifferent, bordering into insulting to all members of the court.” You say quietly, uttering the harbored fear of your betrothed for almost a year now. Edmund licked his lips; your cousin Eliza was never one to exaggerate. 

“P—Perhaps it was just that summer… mayhap he has changed with the season,” Your brother tried to give a comforting smile, but it turned wary, neither of you believing his comforting but empty words. “I’m sorry, sister,” Your brother said quietly after a moment, looking at you with empathy. He also wondered how you would fare when married to a dragon prince and being a member of the den of vipers that was the court. 

You had always been timid, quiet, demure. He had always been skeptical of this betrothal set between you and the prince. He recalled how your father wanted to contest it, to break off the betrothal in your adolescence, seeing that his daughter was too soft for the harshness of royalty, but your mother did not wish for it, scared that it would offend her friend, the queen. 

“I don’t expect much from the marriage,” You spoke, “I… I only wish for him to be kind and perhaps grant me my solitude from time to time,” You added, and your brother nodded, “We shall see to it that you have it, sister. If we are to prove that the prince is ungallant or disagreeable, we shall convince Mother and Father to free you from him,” Your brother swore, and you gave him a sad smile, unconvinced by his promise but touched by the gesture of it. 

Edmund left his sister to the quiet she reveled and needed; Edmund marched in search of his other brothers. “She’s scared,” He announced as he found them in the drawing room; Edward, the eldest of them, lifted his gaze, “Who wouldn’t be?” He asked rhetorically as he sipped on his wine. “Are we truly that indebted to the crown? That we must oblige them with our dear sister?” Edgar questioned, “We are not indebted; our mother is,” Edgar replied. Your mother is forever grateful for her friend, the queen, who had shown her kindness during her time in court as a girl. She was greatly looked down upon, her father’s house inconsequential to the realm and often seen as a burden— through her friendship with Queen Alicent, she had risen through the ranks and had even secured a match with the heir of Highgarden. 

“Well, surely our sister is too great a price for this… emotional debt, especially when you consider the others who had wished to be her suitor, princes from Dorne and Essos who had sung her praises and showered her gifts for years. Yet they will force her to settle for a second son. She has not even met him! Not a letter or a token to show goodwill to his betrothed,” Edward sighed at his brother’s query. “What would you have us do?” Edgar asked, “I do not know… but if Prince Aemond is truly as harsh and tempestuous as Eliza and the realm says, we must convince them to break the betrothal.” Edmund was contented as his brothers agreed, all concerned for your marriage with a prince you had not even met yet. 

“Is all these frills truly necessary?” Aemond grumbled as he was being fitted for new garments, suffering through the needed preparations to meet his betrothed. “Yes. We cannot have you wear faded attire that reeks of dragon when you meet your betrothed. And I implore you to be kind and good-humored, Aemond. You must not scare off your wife,” Alicent sighed and nodded as the tailor bowed and finished taking the prince’s measurements. “She is not my wife,” Aemond gritted, “She is not your wife yet,” Alicent corrected, and Aemond shook his head. The dread in him was multiplying by the day. He was fortunate enough that his mother had not forced him to meet his betrothed years before, convincing himself that perhaps she had changed her mind and the betrothal could be broken, but alas, the fateful day to meet you has arrived. 

Aemond had not met you nor heard anything from you. He would think it common courtesy for you to send him at least a letter, to know him before this doomed marriage, but you had sent none— no introduction or anything. He did, however, hear talk about you, the bloomed beauty of the reach. A lady who was already betrothed the moment she was born but was still lined up by men who hoped to be her suitor. Aemond scoffed at the thought, perceiving you as promiscuous and maybe even defiled. Aemond met your cousin last summer, the lady Eliza, loud and not at all chaste. A shameless flirt who went around the castle and made a spectacle of herself, she was not you, but Aemond liked to believe that that is how you acted as well. 

Aemond tried to calm himself, to take his thoughts away from your arrival, but it would seem the castle was a growing reminder of you. He walked passed the great hall that was being dressed up for your family’s arrival. He passed the gardens where gardeners had been tending to flowers that were neglected, fretting that your family would take the wilted flowers as an offense. Aemond shook his head and walked through the guest wing, and saw how your chambers were being prepared. Aemond gritted his jaw and decided to retire early that day, but it would seem even the royal wing of the castle was being dressed up for your arrival. He frowned as he passed a once-boarded-up room being cleaned, “Who is to stay here?” Aemond asked a maid, believing his mother would place you in a chamber that was only a few steps from his own, a rather scandalous decision. 

“The prince Daemon, my prince, the hand says he is to stay for the moon,” A maid bowed, and Aemond furrowed his brow before giving a nod to dismiss the maid, and he walked off to his chambers; it would seem that it was not only your arrival he must worry about, he must worry about the arrival of his uncle as well. 

After five days of travel, you and the whole of your family arrived in Kingslanding. You took deep breaths before exiting the carriage, your kin being welcomed by a row of knights along with the Queen and her children. You could not even bear to look at anyone but the queen, scared to let your gaze travel to your betrothed. Your brothers stood by your side, offering support as all three pairs of their eyes assessed the prince, who had a look of disinterest. Edmund turned to his brothers, trying to see if they as well felt the animosity from the one-eyed prince that was easily felt. Through their eyes, they communicated silently and agreed. 

You straightened your back as you felt the Queen’s gaze upon you; only then did you raise your raise your gaze fully and presented her with a pretend smile. “My queen,” You curtsied lowly in respect; Queen Alicent smiled fondly and offered her compliments. The  queen bemused for her son to have such a comely wife. She turned to her side as she felt Aemond had still not stepped forward or had taken the initiative to introduce himself. 

Aemond sighed as he stepped forward and stiffly, almost reluctantly, bowed before you. He was staring at the skirts of your dress, refusing to look upon your face. He watched as the fabric moved as you curtsied before him. When you straightened your stance, you stared at the floor, still not catching a glimpse of your betrothed. 

You feel your brother Edgar’s arm link with yours as your family is escorted inside the walls of the Red Keep. The royal family walked in front of yours, and only then did you dare to look upon your betrothed. Recalling how your cousin had told you that prince Aemond was the taller of the two princes and had a curtain of straight, silver locks. 

Aemond felt your stare, and it took great restraint upon himself not to turn and gaze upon you to see the actuality of his intended. To deduce if the talk of your beauty was true or just another hoax. 

Aemond felt his mother step closer to him, “Invite your betrothed to the gardens— begin to acquaint yourselves with one another.” The queen whispered, and Aemond rolled his eye. “They have been traveling for five days; let them rest first before you force us to these rituals.” Aemond quietly spoke. His words were easily covered by the chatter of your brothers and two younger siblings, but he still had to hear a word to be uttered from your lips. “Very well then, but I expect you to sit and get to know her later during supper,” Alicent warned, and Aemond resisted verbalizing his disapproval, simply nodding along and going about his mother’s orders just as the dutiful son that he was. 

You and Aemond sat quietly in your seats as the table was filled with chatter. Aemond was not accustomed to it; their usual supper was suffocatingly silent; the only thing to be heard was the clatter of silverware upon porcelain and the breathing of his kin. Now, it was filled with varying conversations from your brothers and his, along with the chatter of the queen and her friend. Aemond had still not looked upon your face and nor you him. He stared upon your hand that was gripping your chalice; just from the looks of it, he could attest that it had never known a day’s work. The look of your flesh was soft, supple, unsullied—a stark difference from his own. 

“Do you think they will go on well?” The queen whispered to her friend; your mother eyed you, who sat in her seat, your gaze upon your plate. Her eyes then turned to your future husband, who gazed at the flickering amber light of a candle in between you. “I do not know… my daughter relishes in silence,” Your mother admitted, and the queen hummed. “So does my son,” 

You chewed on your lip as you noticed everyone at the table was chatting with one another, making small talk, except for you and your intended. You sat by his right, and you could make out the outline of him through the side of your eye; your view of him was a bit obstructed, but you could make out the contour of his nose. You battled with yourself if you should speak with him and, if you did, what topic would you bring up to converse with? 

Aemond licked his lips as he caught the eyes of his mother, imploring him to speak with you. He clenched his jaw and took a few calming breaths before parting his lips to speak. “H… How were your travels, my lady?” Aemond asked through gritted teeth, his head slightly turned in your direction. You blinked, trying to deduce if you had actually heard him speak. You turned to face the prince, finally seeing your betrothed eye to eye. “It was fine, my prince,” You answered quietly with a small smile before you and Aemond were enveloped in silence once more. 

Aemond did not know what overcame him when you spoke, and your eyes met his. He was expecting your voice to be shrill and loud— grating, even. He did not expect to hear such a soft, almost melodious tone when you spoke— a deep contrast from the voices of your kin. 

You bit your lip as you saw your mother from across the table imploring you to keep up with your conversation with the prince. “I— I heard you are quite fond of the histories, your highness,” You inquired quietly, holding your breath as your eyes locked with the unique gaze of old Valyria once more. “I am,” he replied curtly, and you nodded, uncertain if you should speak further or let his answer be, sensing he did not wish for small talk, a sentiment you, too, shared. 

You went quiet once more, and in other circumstances, Aemond would find relief in that, letting himself ease into the quiet, but there was an odd sensation in him that was pushing him to continue the unconventional conversation you two shared. Aemond, however, bit his tongue and let you two be enveloped in silence as you waited for supper to end. 

Aemond returned to his chambers, mind plagued by how to perceive his first encounters with you. He had prepared himself for the possibility of him growing annoyed and aggravated by your presence, but he was surprised in himself as he felt no such emotions rising within him. In truth, he felt somewhat serene that night, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. However, instead of enjoying the calm in his raging being, he ignored it, untrusting of it. Convincing himself that that night was luring him into a trap, one you had devised, acting ever so demure and coy, not presenting your true nature and only deceiving the prince. He will not fall for it. He fortified himself to not lay prey to this calming allure you offered. 

When the next morning came, Aemond was implored with the rest of his siblings to break their fast with yours. Your mothers forcing a bond between their children. Aemond expected his brother Aegon to complain and not abide by their mother’s wishes which is why he was caught off guard as his brother agreed, him being the first one to go to the gardens. “Your Highnesses,” Aemond heard your brothers greet in unison as you four stood and curtsied and bowed before the three of them. 

Aemond first assisted his sister to a chair before finding one for himself, and by fate, the only seat left was the one next to yours. Aemond sat quietly and tried to finish his meal as fast as he could without appearing crude. He listened in to the chatter across the table, surprised that you and his sister struck up a conversation as well. Aemond listened intently to your voice, trying to see if the volume of your speech was forced to lower or if that was just actually the way you spoke, soft— calming. 

He did not pay mind to the subject you and his sister discussed, but he supposed he should have as he suddenly heard quiet laughs emitting from the both of you. Aemond felt an odd warming in his chest as he heard you laugh; it was almost… surreal to hear it. Your laugh was what he imagined nymphs’ laughs would sound like as he read about them in his books. He was in a trance; it was… out worldly that even he, the well-spoken and silver-tongued prince of the realm, was speechless on how to describe it. 

He was proven wholly wrong as he based your manners to be alike your cousin. You were a stark difference from the lady Eliza, and a part of Aemond had hoped you were like her because then, he could justify the prejudice against you that settled and bloomed in his heart. Now, he must come to terms with shedding his cruel perception of you and might actually make an effort to know his betrothed better. Aemond stayed in the gardens that morning a while longer than he had anticipated, trying to deduce your character as you spoke with his sister and interacted with your brothers. A part of him still believes that what you presented was an act, that you were not as demure and chaste as you lead them to believe. But as he saw your small smiles, timid eyes, and flushed cheeks when Aegon would speak of such inappropriate topics, he started to feel as if you were being genuine. 

As the sun began to descend higher into the skies, the children of the queen and her friend decided to depart from the gardens, the heat proving to be too great for comfort. “My lady, would you perhaps like a tour of the keep?” Aemond boldly but quietly asked, he felt the eyes of your brothers turn to him, but he was trying to capture your gaze. A gaze that he had trouble locking upon his, your eyes always darting around the room, difficulty in holding prolonged eye contact. “I would very much like that, my prince,” You smiled, and Aemond stood straighter, feeling his knees give out under him just because of your smile. 

Your brother’s eyes followed you as you and the prince detached yourselves from the group. “Should we not follow them?” Edmund questioned, “Are they allowed to go about without an escort?” Edgar then asked, their queries pointed towards their eldest brother. “I— I do not know… perhaps we should just let them get to know each other, and if sister has any concerns, that is when we shall intervene.” Edward decided, his eyes following your departing figure that was next to a silver prince. 

Aemond was not entirely certain as to how he would go about touring you along the Red Keep; the castle was dreary and had nothing of note to look upon, so he took you to the gallery. It was a less frequented room in the castle filled with portraits of his family’s history as well as some of Westeros. You and Aemond stood before a portrait of the conqueror and his wives, him retelling the histories that you already knew of, but you still listened intently because there was just something in his voice that entranced you. It was deep, velvety, and quiet— holding a sense of calm that enveloped you with every word he uttered. 

Aemond guided you towards another portrait, but he noticed your gaze had shifted to the side of the room, your gentle gaze upon a harp. “Do you play, my prince?” You questioned, unable to resist the instrument that sat lonesome to the side, dusted and neglected. Aemond followed you, “No, I do not,” he answered, his eye going to your fingers, which seemed to itch to touch the strings of the unused harp. “Do you?” He asked, already guessing the answer. Aemond held his breath as your eyes finally locked with his, “I do,” you said, voice holding a pitch of excitement about the subject. There was a beat of silence, neither of you knowing what to do or say. 

“Would you like to play it?” Aemond questioned and he felt his stomach grow warm as a smile appeared on your lips when you nodded. You ventured closer to the dusted seat, but Aemond was quicker to reach it and wipe away the remnants of lapsed time. “Thank you,” You say quietly as the prince stands by your side and observes you play. 

Aemond was never one to enjoy music or songs, but he must admit, there was something captivating about how you played the harp. The tune you played was one he had not heard before, something bright and lively yet still soothing. Aemond stood in quiet awe, watching as your fingers danced along the strings and how your eyes closed, and there was a tranquil smile on your lips as you played the tune. Aemond tried to resist it, but he could not help but help himself as a smile twitched on his lips as he listened to your melody, which, unfortunately, quickly came to a halt. 

“It’s not finished yet,” You say in slight embarrassment, daring to turn to the prince, who you were surprised to see have a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You wrote that?” He questioned, and you nodded, “Well, I try. I don’t think I'm quite good at it, if I am being honest— but my father did say that this piece holds the most promise.” You say sheepishly. “I quite enjoyed it,” Aemond admitted, and that compliment made your heart grow warm. “I’m glad,” You smiled, and another silence took the room, the silence you and he found comfort in. 

With each day spent trying to acquaint with one another, you would like to beleive you and Aemond had reached a deeper understanding. Each of your perceptions made of each other before your meeting shed as you and him began to know each other’s actuality.

There was a secret language between you, a silent one, at that. An agreement that neither of you had to fill up the gaps and lags in your conversations, simply enjoying the quiet, not forcing another topic as a filler. Others around you found it odd that you and your betrothed just walked and sat in silence, occasionally speaking of something that only you and he were privy to, but you and Aemond quite liked your arrangements. 

“They just sit there in silence,” The queen fretted to her friends, finding the design of your accord quite odd. Fretting that the silence was brought by indifference rather than just a mutual and deeper understanding, because how could one get to know the other in silence? “Aye, they do, but they don’t seem… bothered or disinterested by it— I dare say they are fond of it,” Your mother said as the two observed you and Aemond, who walked along the gardens in silence, relishing in the sounds of nature. 

“My uncle shall arrive today,” Aemond broke the silence, assisting you to a seat for the two of you to have refreshments, “Oh, Prince Daemon?” You asked, wanting to make certain of who he spoke of. Aemond gave a nod and watched as your delicate fingers poured him a cup of tea. “Are you close with him, my prince?” You wondered. “No, not at all. I’ve only met him once,” He answered as he placed two cubes of sugar upon your cup, noting that is how you took your tea. 

“However, I must admit that I am intrigued by him.” You nodded, “I always hear talk in this court as to how the lords and ladies compared me to him in his youth,” Aemond confessed, “And does that please you?” Aemond thought about your question for a moment, staring into your gaze that has grown accustomed to looking upon his. “No,” he answered, watching as you nodded. “I would understand; it wouldn’t fare well if we are always compared to another’s likeness,” You mused before you and the prince were enveloped in the inevitable silence once more. 

When supper was nearing, Aemond felt excitement in seeing you once more. He had come far from the prince who dreaded your company; now, he sought it—altering his usual routine in order to spend more time with you. 

Aemond was the last one to enter the dining hall, his eye searching your frame, feeling a smirk twitch on his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he realized his uncle had taken his place. “Prince Daemon, we have saved you a seat next to the king,” Alicent spoke as she noticed Aemond’s arrival, noting how Prince Daemon was quick to spot you when he entered the hall and made a beeline towards you— chatting with you who had no interest in small talk but still participated out of respect.

“I am quite comfortable here, next to Lady Tyrell,” Daemon refused the seat, only settling further into his chair as he turned to the girl next to him, but her gaze was turned to one of his nephews, the one who had a resemblance of him in his youth. You hear the quiet yet disapproving hum of your betrothed as he orders a squire to place a chair by your right, just enough space for him to sit next to you. The new place on your right offered closer proximity between you and Aemond as you had scooted away from his uncle, but he did not like that you were on the side of a damaged eye, unable to see your outline. 

Supper was tenser than the ones shared before; the chatter had died, and the table was enveloped in silence, but not the kind you and Aemond found comfort in. It was the silence that everyone feared and tried earnestly to alter, but no matter the attempts, it seemed futile. 

Aemond clenched his fists around his utensils, hearing as his uncle tried to chat you up and you entertaining his queries. “So, what brings you and your family here, Lady Tyrell? Highgarden is quite a journey.” Daemon questioned. “They came for my betrothed and I to be acquainted,” Aemond suddenly interjected, turning his body to face you and his uncle, who he had noticed threaded closer to your side. Daemon hummed, quick to sense jealousy from his nephew. He knew he should be somewhat mature, but his mind could not help but conjure up possibilities to torment his brother’s second son. “Hm, you are quite fortunate to have such a lovely betrothed; it would seem the crown has favored you… I remember my first wife, Lady Royce, the bronze bitch whose sheep seemed to prove more comely than her,”

Your eyes widened at the elder prince’s words, disparaging his first wife so openly and offensively. “If my brother had provided me with a bride whose beauty was comparable to Lady Tyrell’s, perhaps there would be no need for me to leave my first wife… you are lucky, nephew,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he noticed Daemon’s eyes trail downward to your bosom that heaved ever so lightly as you were rendered uncomfortable by their topic.

You turned to your brothers, a plea in your eyes to save you from the princes you sat in between. Edward was quick to stand, “Come, sister, I shall escort you to your chambers,” He announced, and you let out a breath, Aemond standing as well to make way for you to exit, “Good night, my lady,” He bowed and boldly took your hand placed a kiss on your knuckles. A blush over, taking your cheeks as you curtsied before him, your mothers thrilled as they saw affection blooming between the two of you. 

“You looked quite uncomfortable,” Your eldest brother noted. “Is your betrothed proving to be ungallant? Must we intervene now and convince mo—“ You quickly shook our head, “No! Prince Aemond has been quite… lovely; cousin Eliza was somewhat wrong in her judgment,” You say quickly in defense of Aemond, who you had grown to deeply like the past few days. “I was just not prepared to meet a character such as the Prince Daemon,” You added, and your brother nodded in understanding; he, too, was scandalized as he heard the words uttered by the elderly prince. 

“So, you have grown to be quite… fond of your betrothed,” You bit your lip as you hear a teasing tone in his voice. You sighed and felt a smile coming to your lips. Whatever fear you had for the marriage subsided with every silent and serene moment with Aemond. “I have.” You confirmed, and your brother nodded. Placing a kiss on your temple before you enter your chambers and get ready for the night.

It has been three days since Prince Daemon’s arrival, and Aemond has been growing peeved at how his uncle would always trail you. Aemond’s new routine of spending the quiet hours of his days with you that was quick to feel like second nature, abrupted by the arrival of his uncle. There were now only scarce moments where you and Aemond were left in each other’s company and quiet, his uncle always trying to speak with you, and you could not deny him conversation, for it would be impertinent. 

It was past high noon when Aemond concluded his training with Ser Criston, his feet hastily carrying him away from the tiltyard to find you, who had frequented the gallery to play the old harp that found new life from your touch. He stood by the threshold and was quick to grow annoyed as he noticed his uncle was in your presence once more. 

“You do not speak much, do you?” He heard Daemon question, your fingers ceasing to play the instrument. “I take it upon myself to not speak unless spoken to, my prince. I do not wish to bother anyone. I know how… annoying it can be when one just simply wishes for peace and quiet, but there is an insistent noise you must attend to.” You say, and Aemond was quite surprised as he heard a slight in your comment, but his uncle did not seem to catch it. 

Aemond observed as you returned to play the harp, the melody easing whatever tension he harbored, but it was quick to return as his uncle wandered closer to you. Aemond stood rigid by the door; your back was face to him and he saw his uncle turn his head towards the door, a smirk on his lips as he stepped further into your space. Daring to take a lock of your hair in his fingers, twirling the lock. 

You tensed in your seat as you felt Prince Daemon’s finger twirl your hair. You looked at the strings of the harp wide-eyed, uncertain of what to do. 

When Aemond noticed your unmoving frame that did nothing to hinder his uncle’s actions, he removed himself from the door frame and marched back to his chambers. Whatever understanding made between the two of the past days was quickly forgotten as his cruel perceptions of your nature, he mustered before meeting you returned. 

You sat tensely at dinner that night once more, waiting for the presence of your betrothed to somewhat comfort as his uncle sat next to you again. When Aemond entered the hall, you placed your hopeful gaze upon him, but he did not turn to you, ignoring the empty seat next to you and instead to a seat in what was supposed to be the place of his uncle. 

Throughout dinner, you would peek a look at Aemond, who refused to meet your gaze. There was a prominent scowl on his face, and his demeanor held an air of indifference that strayed dangerously close to animosity. You started to wonder if the Aemond you stared upon right now was the Prince your cousin had warned you about. And perhaps the past few days spent with him was an act, a fictitiousness in him to appease his mother so the marriage would proceed. You were disheartened by the thought. 

When the following morning came, Aemond’s eye followed as you roamed the halls alone, following behind you but not close enough for you to notice your presence. You led him back to the gallery, where both of you were caught in surprise when his uncle stood in the room, waiting for you. Aemond clenched his fists, believing he was a witness in your clandestine meetings. The scandal of it! Here you are, an engaged woman meeting with a man who was old enough to be your father and was married to the King’s chosen heir!

“My prince,” you curtsied as you spotted him near the harp, having the urge to turn back around and exit the room. Uncomfortable to be alone in the Rogue Prince’s presence. “All alone? Where is your betrothed?” Daemon mused, stepping closer to you. “I— I do not know,” You said and backed away from the prince who was threading closer to your space once more. “Hm, it’s quite foolish of him to leave his lovely bride to be all alone… especially in this keep where danger always lurks,” Your lips parted at his words. Was that a threat? You thought. 

You swallowed thickly and turned to the door, wanting to make an escape but not one so obvious that it would make suspicion rise. Daemon smirked as he saw fear in your eyes; it was so easy. You were such an innocent and sheltered thing. He could smell you from leagues away, a lovely and tempting prey that a dragon could never resist. It was a shame that you were betrothed to his nephew, but perhaps that could still change. 

You gasped as you felt Prince Daemon flush your bodies; you stared at him wide-eyed as he took hold of your cheek. 

Aemond watched the scene; rage within burned bright and carelessly. He wanted to put a stop to whatever he witnessed, but he stood in wait, wanting to find evidence if this was truly how you were— promiscuous and would settle to be a whore of his uncle.

“My prince, wh—“ You panicked, trying to back away, but he held you still. “Such a pretty young thing you are… a shame that you’ll be wasted on my disfigured nephew,” You drew out all of your might and pushed away Prince Daemon, him stumbling only a few paces. You see a sinister smirk rise to his lips as he tries to close the gap between you once more, but you are quick to strike his cheek, rendering him in shock, and you take that opportunity to run out of the room and into safety. 

Aemond was hidden behind a pillar, and as you passed, he saw clearly the distress on your face and how you were on the verge of tears, rendering him guilty for not coming to your aid as he had thought you were in want of his uncle. 

Aemond saw as Daemon furiously marched out of the gallery in pursuit of you, but he was quick to step away from his hiding and face his uncle. “You dare try to sully her? Was my half-sister and your whores not enough? Must, in your old age, still prey on young innocent girls?” Aemond spat, ready to challenge his uncle in your honor. Daemon chuckled as the young prince stared at him wide-eyed. “You get ahead of yourself— they might compare you to me in my youth, but you are completely lacking of what it means to be a true Targaryen prince… you’d have to thank your cunt of a mother for that.” Daemon chuckled, and Aemond no longer hesitated to draw out his sword. 

A battle between nephew and uncle commenced in the halls; both men wielded their weapons with such authority that neither one could draw blood. Daemon was somewhat impressed by his nephew. He thought the talk he heard of Aemond was just propaganda spread by his grandsire, but it would seem that his nephew knew his way with the steel. That, however, did not deter the prince, for Aemond was still completely inexperienced when compared to him. 

One of the princes was near drawing blood when a band of Kingsguards appeared in the halls and were quick to separate the dueling princes. Daemon laughed as he was held back by the knights, his nephew still seething across from him, still ready to attack. The elderly prince brushed off the hold on his arms and laughed once more before walking away from his nephew, leaving their state as it was. 

Aemond brushed off the guards and hastily marched in search of you, wanting to make certain you were well— wanting to offer his apologies for his judgments and lack of protection over you. 

He knocked on your door, waiting on bated breath as he heard you shuffling inside. When you slowly revealed yourself, Aemond felt his stomach pit at the sight of your teary eyes that you tried to hide. “I’m sorry,” He was quick to breathe out, unable to stomach you in such a state of distress. Your brows knit together at his words, “What? My pri—“ Aemond shook his head and forced himself into your chambers. 

“I’m so sorry, my lady… I—“ Aemond repeated but you still had no clue as to what he refers to. “My uncle, he is a depraved man; I should have protected you from him.” He explained as he saw confusion in your face. Your eyes widened at his statement, “You saw us?” You asked in fear that he would think you were tarnished. “I have, and I… I should have come to your aid, but instead, my mind cruelly thought you were in want of him; I apologize, my lady.” It felt foreign for Aemond to apologize, but it seemed to roll off his tongue effortlessly for you. He would never have fathom to encounter someone or the day that he would apologize earnestly, ready to beg for forgiveness. 

“No… my prince, you need not apologize; it was not your doing,” you said, but Prince Aemond stubbornly shook his head. “It is my duty to protect you— to defend my lady wife.” You bit your tongue as he referred to you with such a title. It felt surreal… and you must admit it brought a stir in you that you quite liked. 

You and Aemond were in silence once more, the silence both of you had gotten used to, the silence within each other that you both craved. The serene silence that could only be provided by each other. “Will you still… still have me? Even after my transgression?” Aemond dared ask, not wanting to live in the hope that there would still be a way that you would be his. Surely, you would be deterred to take him as your husband, for he could not even defend you with such a threat. Aemond studied your face, his knees growing weak as a smile spread across your lips. “I still want you, my prince,” You admitted, heat blooming in your cheeks as you said the words. Aemond could not help but cup your cheek, wanting to feel the warmth of them as they flushed with color before him. 

“I must admit… I was dreading to meet you,” He said quietly, and he felt you nod. “I, as well… I was greatly warned that we might not see eye to eye.” You admitted. Aemond hummed and brushed his thumb across your soft skin, your bodies threading closer and closer. “I do not believe I would ever want someone as much as I want you,” Aemond confessed, his voice so low that if you had not felt his breath fanning your skin, you would think you had imagined his words. “I never thought anyone would understand me in the way that you do, my prince,” You breathed out as his face threaded closer to yours, his eye on your lips as you spoke. 

“You’re mine… say it, my darling.” Your eyes fluttered closed at his words. “I’m all yours,” Quickly after you uttered the words, you feel his lips upon yours. A kiss filled with longing— impatience. A kiss that was long overdue, for how could either of you live for years without knowing each other? How could Aemond try to ignore your existence, and how could you try to deny this marriage? It was set the day you were born. You two were simply destined for one another. 

As your lips parted, you smiled before your soon-to-be-husband. Aemond hummed in contentment and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, inhaling your intoxicating scent deeply. “Shall we tell our mothers that they shall prepare for our wedding, then?” Aemond smiled, and you let out a quiet laugh as you nodded, letting him hold you. “And urge them to make haste,” Aemond’s eye twinkled with amusement as he dipped down to capture your lips once more. 

A fortnight had barely passed before you and Aemond uttered your vows before the gods—an intimate wedding commenced, as you both requested. And it was followed by a family dinner after. Aemond was impatient, as were you, but you and he waited for the meal to end; for the past days, there was a need greatly bubbling inside him, having trouble finding restrtaint and contentment with just stolen kisses and touches. 

When it was finally night, Aemond led you to his chambers, you already flushing in anticipation of what was to come. When he led you to your shared chambers, you were met by something covered in a white cloth. You frowned and turned to your husband, who simply smiled and closed the door behind you. “It’s a gift for you.” He said and stood before it. You stepped closer as he urged you to uncover what he had given, though you already had a sneaking feeling as to what it was. 

Aemond watched with his heart in his eye as you beamed before him as you uncovered what he had given— a harp. Newer and grander than the one in the gallery, the body was plated with gold, and delicate carvings of flowers scattered its body. You bit your lip and step towards your husband, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips agaisnt his. “Thank you… I love it,” you said gratefully as your lips parted. Aemond simply hummed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were to exchange gifts… I could’ve gotten something,” You then say, fretting he would take offense. 

Aemond shook his head. “You already have given me your hand; you are my wife. What more could I want?” Those words uttered, and the certainty in Aemond only made you melt further. He intertwined your lips once more, but the kiss shared held something wholly different from the ones shared before; it was urgent, filled with longing and desires that were greatly suppressed. 

You feel breathless, but at the same time, you make no move to part your lips. You feel him lead you to the feathered bed, his hands on your waist as he sits you gently upon the cushion. You blushed as you felt his fingers hover at the bodice of your dress, itching to undo the laces, but there was trepidation in him. You bit the insides of your cheeks and took the initiative to do it yourself. Aemond sucked in a deep breath as your dress fell before him, revealing yourself only dressed in your shift. 

Aemond fell on his knees before you, moving his hand to cup your cheek and the other to undress you further. He heard a moan escape your lips as he nipped your bottom lip. His cold hand cupped your breast that pebbled before his touch. You mewled his name as he parted your lips, your hands finding the buttons of his leather tunic. 

You ran your hands through his smooth, chiseled chest and Aemond felt chills running down his spine at the feel of your hands on his skin. You let out a breath as you feel your husband lay you down, his weight atop you, his weeping length aligned with your glistening entrance. You sighed as you felt his finger tease your folds, Aemond resting his forehead up your shoulder as he felt your arousal. “You’re all mine, my darling,” Aemond breathed out against your lips and swallowed your whines as his length penetrated you.

Aemond groaned at the sheer feel of you clenching around him. Pleasure and guilt swirled within him as he saw your face contorted in pain, kissing away your tears as you acclimatized yourself with his length. He truly thought himself indifferent in the ways of pleasure, only succumbing to it occasionally when even he could not suffice his lust— but now, he was certain he knew what the fuss was all about when it came to fucking. He had only a taste of you, but he was certain he was addicted. It took a moment before your whines of pain turned into whimpers of pleasure, your husband breathing heavily as you urged him to speed up his pace, but Aemond was conscious not to break and hurt you further. 

“Aemond, please… I wa— need more,” You breathed as Aemond’s thrusts were cautious. He bit his lip and sped up his pace ever so lightly, but that was not enough for you. With your legs circling his waist, you shifted your weight and placed yourself atop your husband. Aemond was rendered stunned by your actions, only watching in awe as you bounced upon his cock whilst you straddled his waist. He never thought you’d have it in you, but he supposed it was always the quiet ones who would be capable of the unexpected. 

“You were so quiet the days before, little wife… but look at you now— your moans could be heard throughout the castle.” Aemond hummed, and his hands found home on your waist, assisting you as you writhed against his length. Your hands were planted on his chest as your hips worked against his in search of friction. “Husband, please,” you pleaded, knowing you would not come to what you searched for without his assistance. Aemond smirked and moved his hands to cup your behind and lifted his hips to thrust deeper and harsher into you. 

“Yes… yes, gods, Aemond!” You cried as you heard him groan at how you scratched his chest, leaving imprints of your hands upon his skin. “Are you to come, my darling? Is my little wife to come at my cock?” He hissed as he felt his own release coming. His hands traveled your frame, cupping your tits and moving his head to take one into the cavern of his mouth. You nodded, your head that was tilted to the heavens, your back arched, and your husband’s name slipping your lips as you came undone. You hear him call out your name as he spills his seed deep in your cunt, your heavy breathings mixed as you collapse atop him, his lips finding yours once more. 

“You truly are made for me,” he whispered against your lips. Feeling a surge of new and overwhelming emotions that you could not yet utter, all you could do was kiss his lips once more and bask in the presence of the man who had been bound to you the moment you were born. 

That's Aemond alright.

“My child is fine”

Your child has an obsession with multiple people and they’re not even real.

𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

— starring: naobito zenin, jogo and gakuganji

— word count: 1.3k

—cw: foursome, stepcest, daddy kink, monsterfucking, dirty talking, use of nicknames (sugar plum, lavapie, slut, my little whore, cumsock), cunningulus, double penetration, boob sucking, tongue fucking, blowjob, deepthroat, face riding, breeding, unprotected, creampie, full nelson, cowgirl, doggy, facial, reader passes out in the end.

—synopsis: your came home late at night and your daddy and his friends are chilling, but you are caught sneaking in. your daddy decides to punish you in front of his friends and later they join in too.

—a/n: i worked so hard on this 🥺😢 i hope you like it.

BITCH WHY DID YOU CLICK READMORE??? HUH???? ANSWER ME NOW. WHAT IS WRONG W YOU?

Best thing I‘ve ever read I‘m DYING

house of cards

ft. bully!mikey x reader

+ mikey has built quite the reputation for himself, you can't help but be tempted to make it all tumble down.

cw. dark content, college au, afab!fem!reader, noncon filming and pictures taken, slapping, dom!mikey, toxic mikey, name calling, degradation, objectification (?), writing on skin, he rubs his dick on ur face um yeah, unprotected sex against reader's will, mentions of STIs tho mikey's clean, one mention of piss, death threat, slight overstimulation, bullying.

an. 18+, minors dni. i love mean mikey yup yup make me cry ilysm. this is a drabble okay ?? :) smile and nod or else. 1,8k, not proofread. please lmk if i missed any tags.

The door swings open like a gale of wind attempting to wreak havoc in your dorm. Not a storm, no—Manjiro Sano. You look over your shoulder before plunging back into the comfort of your bed.

"Most people knock, you know." Boots thunder against your cheap hardwood floors, icy and nimble fingers harshly grabbing at your jaw as he leans over the bed in all his mad glory.

"Is that so?" His words drip of venom and the abyss hides itself in his charcoal eyes and midnight hair. "Most dogs behave, you know." You gulp—you didn't think he'd be this mad.

"Are ya gonna explain yourself," You yelp as he pulls your hair and drags you off the bed. "You sneaky little bitch?" He shoves you down on your knees while he plops himself comfortably where you were lying just a second ago. "I didn't—I didn't do anything-" Your head turns abruptly and your cheek stings. Tears well up in your eyes and a sob escapes you. "Wrong."

Mikey lets out a deep sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't think you understand the situation you're in, sweetheart." His silence speaks volumes, filling in blanks you wish you couldn't read. "Confess to your filthy little sins and maybe I won't make your life a livin' hell." It's terrifying, the way his lips tug into a wicked smile, not a single speck of benevolence in his vicious eyes.

"I might have.. said some things.." His eyebrow quirks up, lithe fingers pointing down at his jeans. "Do I need to help you with every fuckin' sentence? Spit it out already, mutt." You fumble with his belt and the metal clings clearly in your mind. Pulling down his zipper, you gaze up at him—regret washes over you the second his orbs meet yours.

"I told Senju to," You clear your throat when your shaky hands press against the wet patch of fabric, Mikey's cock twitching despite his cold demeanor. "-told her to spread some rumors about you.. They weren't anything serious! Just a little funny-" "Funny?" Mikey clicks his tongue.

"Spreadin' a rumor 'bout me having more STI's than letters in my name is funny?" You don't know what demon possessed you to snort when you were one foot in the grave already, but Satan's never liked you that well. "Oh? You're a brave one, aren't ya?" If he wanted you to answer, he doesn't let you when he shoves your face into the soaked fabric of his boxers.

"Wasn't just one lie you blubbered with that useless mouth of yours," His pupils dilate and the faintest of moans slip out between his plush lips when your tongue wets his underwear and laps at the precum dripping through. "Seems like I can't get it up either, huh?" They're all blatant lies, that much is evident when his cock springs up when you pull the fabric down—it blushes red at the tip and leaks down the sides of his length.

"What'cha even good for if you can't get my dick hard?" You ogle at him with big puppy eyes. It's already hard, you fucker. His dick bounces against your chin, vein pulsating against the flesh.

Mikey presses the tip against your face, admiring the way his cock drools down your skin. Bored by the current flow of the ongoing event, he wraps his fingers around your throat before pulling you towards the bed. His hand tightens its hold before he roughly throws you onto the mattress.

Cold fingers dip underneath your clothing and they make haste sliding each attire off your skin. Barely a few seconds pass with your bare body exposed to the air before he rubs his leaking slit around your entrance. "Wh-what are you doing? Put on a condom already."

"Nah, don't feel like it." He circles your pulsating clit with a hand wrapped around his shaft and a perverse glint in his eyes. "I mean, sharing's caring, yea? If the rumors you poured your heart 'n soul into are lies, then ya have nothing to worry 'bout!" A devilish smile with pitch-black orbs bore into you.

His hand snakes up your body till Mikey has his palm covering your mouth. Eyes drip of obsidian when he impales himself inside you with one deep and painful thrust. You gasp and drool into his hand, being completely at the Devil's mercy. "But lyin' ain't cute, sweetheart."

Rasping against your walls, Mikey's length pistons inside you with fervor and no care of your incessant whining. Legs thrown over his shoulders, his abs flex with each roll of his hips. Mikey's always been a piece of shit—there's not a single person on campus who hasn't heard his name at least once.

Notorious for seeking out trouble and adding fuel to the fire which is his insanity, any person in their right mind would walk the other way when seeing him. Unfortunately for you, he simply came running to you—itching to make you his new victim for his continuous bullying and pestering.

There's nothing he enjoys more than others suffering as a result of his foul actions. Taking your underwear before class, spitting on you when he sees you in the library—hell, one time he fucking peed inside you after fucking you in the public bathroom. There's no escaping his atrocities; one word and he could change the trajectory of your life for the worse.

Is it really that surprising that you wanted to get back at him just once? Though it's clear as day to you now—once is one too many when it comes to Mikey and his limited patience.

You wish you could bring yourself to walk away, but there's no hiding the slick that runs down your thighs every time he drags his fat cock out of your clenching hole. Shame floods your veins and your cheeks heat up at the sheer loudness of each squelch of his balls against your skin.

"This pussy's fuckin' mine, got it?" A paroxysm of pleasure strikes like lightning through your veins, nodding along in a frenzy. His hands dig into the flesh of your hips, tongue darting out to lick his lip. "If I see ya with someone else I'll fuckin' beat them to death," Clenching around him like a vice, your velvet walls quiver when his mushroom tips kisses against your deepest spot.

"Cunt's got my name on it, but my cock will never be yours." He snickers. You can't bring yourself to say anything back, the heat spreading in your abdomen about to burst, fingernails digging into the palms of your hands and eyes shutting close. "'M gonna-gonna cum—Mikey!" Fingers dip down to squeeze at your nipples with a haze of lust swirling in his eyes. "Look at me when you cum on my cock, slut." Your eyes roll back into your skull and your back arches into his body.

"Cunt's so sloppy, got an expiration date on this shit?" The filthiest and most gutwrenching words spill out of his lips, yet his violent pace turns erratic and a gurgled moan slithers out of his throat when he pinches your clit and you cream all over his cock.

His calloused hand grabs your left leg, squishing the flesh when he presses it close to your chest. "The only dick fuckin' into you is mine, sweetheart." Harsh and deep rams of his shaft into your trembling cunt has you sobbing from overstimulation.

"How 'bout we start a new fuckin' rumor?" Your eyes cross when he flickers at your clit and you jolt against Mikey's clenching muscles. "..Huh?" He chuckles at you despite never halting the continuous 'pap, pap, pap' against your skin. "'This bitch y/n is such a cockhungry whore, throwing herself at Mikey just to be his personal cumdump'," He delivers a sharp thrust, burying himself deeper in your pulsating walls, fat balls hanging low and full of seed ready to blow in your tight cunt. "How's that for some drama?" He snickers at your dazed look. "You got the look already, don'cha?"

There's some rustling on the other side of the bed, but you don't catch it with the way his cock throbs inside of you, kissing that one spot that has you going stupid. "Yeah, that's the shit—squeeze my cock jus' like that," Mikey throws his head back, reluctant to cum anywhere but deep in your womb, but you don't deserve that.

He pulls out with a hiss, cock coated in slick and cum as he tugs and drags on his length with his lips tucked between his teeth. A guttural groan runs throw him as he sprays white seed out of his throbbing tip all over your tits and dripping onto your stomach and bare pussy. A blinding light coats your body and a 'click' resonates throughout the room.

"Ain't ya lucky—you're one photogenic little cocksleeve." Mikey presses his chest against your and bites your bottom lip till it bleeds and you whimper when he licks over it with a nasty grin on his face. "Got a pen or somethin' 'round here?" You're not coherent enough to understand the words tumbling out of his lips, let alone answer him.

You hear him rummage through your room with a light hum and delicate footsteps. "Ah, found one!" Like a giddy little kid, he jumps back into the bed, hands quick to fondle your tits and press against every inch of your skin.

"Don't move." You jerk when the tip of a pen digs into your skin, gasping into Mikey's arm. "I said," His eyes roll and he grips both your hands and push them into the mattress above your head. "Don't fuckin' move."

You trash and shake under his gaze, eyes hung low and focused on your ink-stained skin. "It tickles..!" His tongue darts out in concentration. "Almosttt done.." Mikey sits back on his heels and puts the top back on the pen, chuckling at his work.

"Now, just smile one last time." Your head lolls to your side in confusion, but a lazy tug on your lips will have to suffice. "No, no, no. Smile. Gimme that dumb grin you had when I drilled my cock in ya." Maybe it's the nefarious tint to his grin that has you obeying, a flash blinding your eyes before you can think to decline. When a video and pictures leak and flood social media like a plague, you gasp in horror at the blurry images—it's unmistakenly you.

A lewd video of the invincible Mikey ramming into your pussy and hole sucking him back in with each thrust circulates throughout campus and spreads like wildfire. By the time the original video has been taken down, it's been shared too many times to have any hope of ever disappearing.

Though, the image of your cute little grin with "Mikey's jizz jar" written in bold, blue letters on your lower stomach, right above your pussy—it's his favorite.

misplaced trust ⇝ h. sanzu x reader

warnings/includes: mdni, dc, nsfw, kidnapping, gaslighting, manipulation, amnesia, fox hybrid! sanzu, yandere themes, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, all characters are adults

notes: this is my entry for pat's hybrid-themed collab! i seriously had so much fun writing this one. tysm, bby @manjiroscum for inviting me to join this collab! 💗

Before everything, here's some facts about hybrid! Sanzu's past:

⸙. Haruchiyo never met his father, only knowing that he's lurking deep into the mountains in his kitsune form or luring unsuspecting women in his lair to take advantage of them.

⸙. One of those women was his mother who left as soon as he was out of her womb, leaving him to fend for himself.

⸙. No one in his mother's village was willing to take in a hybrid, labeling him as the bastard son of the evil kitsune.

⸙. He inherited some of his father's abilities such as being able to shape-shift, he's also gifted with an immortal life.

You don't know what went into your head when you decided to venture outside and deeper into the forest in the dead of the night. It's not like you're adventurous or anything, you hate the nagging feeling that creeps on the tips of your fingers because of the unknown but something about the pale gleam of the moon made you want to see what's out here or rather, who's out here. 

Pale complexion, tall frame and long silver hair that flows with the wind like an ocean wave– you've seen glimpses of him a couple of times. You've witnessed him dance so elegantly in his intricate silver robes as if he was floating in the air, his figure so light and enchanting it makes you want to dance with him. 

As you walk further into the forest, you feel a sudden shift in the air, it's no longer cold and biting at the skin and is replaced by a warm breeze, like someone is caressing your cheek and enveloping your body in an embrace. 

"You're here." You say to no one in particular. The tingle on your spine is so prominent, no doubt from the anticipation of what's to come. Will he show himself? Will he talk to you? 

A soft breeze blows past your cheek, making you close your eyes to savor the feeling. So soothing, so welcoming but it was gone as soon as it came. A fleeting moment.

"You're here too." The voice, it's so calming it makes you swoon, makes you want to close your eyes and sleep like a newborn.

"Please let me see you." Along with your plea, you look around in hopes of seeing at least the familiar blurry figure of him. He would look so beautiful under the moon, no doubt.

He sounds so teasing when he responds, the mirth in his voice evident as if he is smiling. Silly little human. Do you even know what you're talking to? "If you see me, you're bound to me."

"Then… then take me." Bold. Rash. Impulsive. Those have always been connected to your name back in your village. The reckless girl who dives in without a second thought but of course, you are always quick to deny them. Now, you're aware that you've proven just how thoughtless you are in some situations, but you can't find it in you to care. You have to see him. You need to see him. 

You feel him before your eyes can even glance at the vast space of the forest in hopes of seeing him. Hot breath fanning your cheek, his large hand over your hip bone and the warmth from his chest spreading over your back– he's behind you. The intimate position you're both in makes your cheeks burn. You've never had someone this close to you before. 

"Then you're mine."

You sit awake with a gasp, hand clutching your chest as your heart pounds rapidly. It's been a week since you started having the same dream over and over again, and every time you open your eyes, there's this sudden urge to run away… but why?

"My love." Haruchiyo, your husband, sits up on the bed as well, his hand caressing your back in the same, eerily pattern as the man in your dreams had. You don't know how you can tell, dreams are not supposed to be so realistic. Instead of bringing comfort to you, your husband's touch burns at your skin, making you flinch.

"It's going to be alright, darling. I'm here." He reassures you, his deep voice lulling you back to sleep and in his arms. The up and down movements of his chest help to stabilize your nerves again until your breath evens out and you're knocked out cold once again. 

Within the comforting embrace of another sleep, you don't notice how Haruchiyo's eyes flash a mysterious golden hue. 

"I'll be back before dinner. Remember what I told you?" Your husband coos softly, a small doting smile present on his lips as he waits for your response. 

"Don't ever come out because it's not safe." You recite his words back to him. This is how each morning goes, he would go out and do some business and he'd remind you to never step foot outside of the house. 

You never questioned him. You trust him with all your heart… like you were conditioned to do and follow what he says without so much as a complaint. He knows what's good for you after all.

"Good, my darling," The satisfied tone in his voice makes you smile happily, "Now, I'll get going. See you later." With that, he presses a quick kiss on your lips and then he's out the door of your home. 

As usual, the looming loneliness visits you again. You wish he didn't have to go and leave you all by yourself even if it's only for a few hours. This feeling, it's new to you. Despite not having the memories of your life before you met him, you know that you're not the type to depend on someone so much. 

In the midst of your musings, you don't even notice how your husband's figure disappeared from your line of sight as if he was never even there in the first place. 

I want to go home. 

The thought makes you freeze for a second, a sudden whiplash of emotions hitting you abruptly. What's going on? Why do I feel like this? You sniffle, shaky hands brushing away the unwarranted tears painting your cheeks. I am home, what does that even mean?

You heave a deep breath, willing to calm yourself down and make sense of what is happening to you at the moment. Sure, sometimes you're reminded of what your life once was every now and then but Haruchiyo was always with you during those moments. He would brush away your tears and tell you that it doesn't matter. As long as he's with you, you don't have to worry about your past. 

"I'm home." He greets by the door, patting his clothes off of any dirt as he looks around the house in search of you. He spots you standing in the hallway near the kitchen, the usual floral mittens over your hands as you carry a small pot of what smells like a curry. There's an adoring smile on your lips as you welcome him home. 

"Smells great." He says, striding deeper into the house with an excited smile over his face. The iconic scars at the corners of his lips are stretched so beautifully it makes you want to reach out and give them each a peck. You place the pot on the table, ready to greet him sweetly when he opens his arms for you until your eyes land on the hanafuda insignia inked on his forearm. 

Now, you've seen this tattoo on his skin a million times already but something feels oddly different about this time. It's like you've seen it somewhere before etched on something… on a cloth? On a silk robe… a majestic silver robe worn by a frosty white haired male, dancing around the forest without a care in the world.

"Darling?" Haruchiyo's warm hands lead you away from your scattered thoughts as he wraps his arms around your waist and cups your sides.

As you look up at him, he can sense the confusion within your eyes, the way your pupils shake and your lips tremble as you search for something on his face are the indication. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" 

"Haru," you speak, voice above a whisper and sounding so terrified, "How did I meet you?"

Oh. 

"What do you mean?" There's a hard look on his face but he hides it by hugging you closer to him, tucking your head into his neck as he strokes your back in faux comfort.

"I'm certain I followed you in the forest." You murmur, gripping the costly fabric of his yukata in your shaking hands.

"You're remembering it wrong. You must still be confused, huh?" The velvet sound of his voice manages to calm you down. "Your family abandoned you, my love. I took you in."

"No, Haruchiyo. They would never do that." You softly sniffle, burying your face deeper into his warmth to seek comfort. You feel so… weird. He feels so weird. In a way that makes you want to run away but then again, he's the only one you have. He's the only one who can offer you comfort. 

"And how are you so sure of that?" This time, he pulls back so he can look at you. His face lacks any emotions as he studies the weary tears falling from your eyes. "You can barely remember what happened to you before you woke up," So cold, "You think I'm lying to you." So distant.

Your husband slithers his arms away from you, attempting to walk out of the kitchen. Seeing him leave makes you panic, your mind internally berating yourself for upsetting the only person who cares for you. "Haru, please! Don't leave, I'm sorry!" You desperately cry, forehead pressed on his warm back as you hug him.

For a second, he doesn't say anything. He only stands there and in your eyes, it's as if he's contemplating what to do with you but he knows just what he's doing. He's got you right where he wants you to be. 

Sighing, he turns back around with your arms still clinging to him desperately. His face is crumpled into a crestfallen look, not even meeting your eyes. "You're hurting me, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry, Haru. I-I know you're not lying to me, it's just… my dreams are starting to get to me and-" He doesn't wait for you to say anything as he presses his lips against yours, one strong arm lifting you up so he doesn't have to bend down just to kiss you. 

He can taste your salty tears on his tongue and he savors it to heart, relishes in your broken but subsiding sobs. With a soft pat on his chest, he ends the kiss with one last peck to give you air before uttering the words that make your heart swell. "I forgive you."

Haruchiyo is on edge. Lately, you've been seeing glimpses of your memories and it's making him restless. Just what is he doing wrong that your past insists on haunting him? It's not like he forcibly took you away, you've given him consent to own you. Surely, the binding is as strong as it should be. 

He had been alone for decades, no one to come home to for so long that he grasped the nearest opportunity of finding solace in your arms. The last wife he had left him for someone else after finding out about his true identity. It's not his fault for being born a hybrid yet she still betrayed him. Stabbed him in the back just like his mother did and every other woman in his life. He does not take kindly to traitors so he did what he had to do: eliminated them out of his life and disposed of them as if they were mere pests in his life. 

Haruchiyo loves you and he doesn't want the same fate to befall on you. That's why he's going to make sure that you will stay by his side no matter what because that's what good wives like you should do.

"Look at me, darling. Tell me you'll never leave me." Your husband moans next to your ear, his scarred lips grazing your skin and making you shudder with each deep thrust of his heavy cock into your pretty little cunt. 

"I-I'll never leave you!" You proclaim, nails scratching his back and leaving stinging sensations on his skin but he doesn't stop with his ministrations, too deep in the heat of your bodies. 

You're starting to slip, close to losing your mind and giving away the last bit of your sanity to the man you're promised to. You will never leave him. You can never leave him. With how much you've become reliant on Haruchiyo, the thought of even depending on yourself is scary. It's like you're going to lose bearings and one wrong move, you're nothing but a lost person with no name… no identity. He gives you so much security, he builds everything that you are and without him, you're empty.

"You have no one else but me, you know that." He groans, his wild eyes losing its azure tint and is replaced by the glimmering gold, staring down at you with a sneer. 

You sob, nodding along to his words as your hands blindly reach out to him but he laughs at the sight, relishing in your pathetic cries and your attempt to hold him close. Breathtaking. There's nothing more beautiful than the sight of your tear stricken face as your mind slowly breaks, soul chipping away from his cruelty. 

"God- Haruuu!" Your moans have become drawn as you release around his thick girth, walls pulsing in intervals and sensitivity as he rubs your clit relentlessly.

The hybrid smirks, satisfaction seeping through his bones. "That's right, sweetheart. I'm your god." His velvet voice makes your heart bloom and your pussy to clench even more. This makes him growl, throwing his head back as he reaches his own high, hips never faltering from assaulting your sensitive heat.

Ropes of thick liquid spurts out of his cock, ejaculating inside your pussy and painting your walls with his seed. Only when he's satisfied does he stop the erratic movements of his hips before leaning down to capture your lips.

He's engraved on your lips, tattooed on your mind and latched within your soul. You're one with him, there's no denying that now, especially when he pulls out and his warm cum drips out of your pussy, staining your skin. 

"I love you, Haru." You whisper when the both of you pull back from each other, eyes closed with a small smile on your lips. 

This is your home. This is your life now. 

"I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much." He relents before pressing another kiss on your lips and on your sweaty forehead. 

Within his arms, you seek for the warmth and love he willingly gives you and with a satiated glint in his eyes, he allows himself to rest easy. After all, you will never leave him. You can never leave him. He's got you right where he wants you to be. 

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