Marvel Masterlist:

I also block people if they're rude! You're based/gen

-tendergraphite

Thank you! I literally just don't want any drama on my account

The Cannibal Prince

Pairing: Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Includes: nipple play, kissing, non-consensual vampire turning (Including a kiss), biting, side character death

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: You marry Prince Aemond, and he reveals another Targaryen wedding tradition that many aren't privy to.

It was fortunately windy at Dragonstone — a delightful contrast to that of King’s Landing.

You wore one of your Dornish gowns, showing off quite a bit of your skin. You hadn’t really gotten into the fashion at King’s Landing. It was so terribly hot there and your gowns from back home gave you a delightful reprieve.

You stood outside. You had first come out to watch the waves lick at the big rocks, but your thoughts soon drifted off to Aemond Targaryen — Your betrothed.

You had brief interactions with the man. Once, when you first arrived at King’s Landing. You had eaten dinner with Prince Aemond, along with the rest of his family. It had been a tense first meeting for you. Queen Alicent was the one carrying the conversation, with Otto asking questions about Dorne here and there.

Though you were not Dornish royalty like the Martell’s, your house is a great one.

You had noticed Queen Alicent lowering her gaze to your dress a few times over dinner before looking back at you with a fake smile. You think she didn’t like your dress.

Aegon, though, scared you. He would not take his eyes off of you during the feast and would speak of how you were too pretty for his cripple brother. You noticed that Prince Aemond had tensed at that, his fingers tightening around his cutlery. You hadn’t spoken out in defense of Aemond — just gave Aegon a faux smile, hoping he didn’t notice how uncomfortable you were. You think he did.

You had heard rumors about the Targaryens. Of how their serving girls were disappearing at an alarming rate, about Prince Aegon’s sexual debauchery, that your betrothed was not missing an eye at all, and that when he had his eye cut out, it had come back! That you did not believe, it simply wasn’t possible.

You shivered from the cold Dragonstone air, and like he knew you were thinking of him, a voice spoke out from behind you. “Cold, My Lady?”

You turned around, your golden dress moving with you. There stood Aemond Targaryen, a few feet away from you. His hands were clasped behind his back and his long white hair looked slightly unkempt because of the winds.

You bowed, before looking back up at him. “Nothing I can’t handle, My Prince.”

You were proven wrong as the wind beat at you, forcing you to squint.

Aemond wrinkled his nose, like he had smelt something he didn’t like before getting his expression under control and clenching his jaw.

“It is getting quite late, betrothed. Would you allow me the honor of walking you back to your chambers?” Aemond asked.

Your eyes widen slightly at the request, but you nod anyway. “Of course, My Prince.”

You both walked back into the Castle, a quiet overtaking you both. You had hoped Aemond would have offered you his arm, but he hadn’t, and this was the longest time you two had spent together, so you contented yourself with that.

Your eyes gazed at all the dragon furniture and you were reminded of Princess Rhaenyra.

You had been surprised when you found out that you’d be marrying Aemond here, as you had heard that Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone because she couldn’t stand the Hightowers and their children anymore. Perhaps she had a change of mind.

You and Aemond reached your chamber door. There were dragons carved into the wood, their long, lithe bodies stretched out on it.

You opened the door and stepped in, turning to look at Aemond. “Would you like to come in, My Prince?” It was a courtesy, of course. If you and your betrothed were both caught alone together, it would be quite the scandal.

Aemond looked at you, scrutinizing your body as his eyes traveled down the length of your body. He stared at the exposed area of your neck before forcing himself to look back at you, his jaw ticking.

“Perhaps after our marriage ceremony.” With that, Aemond gave a curt bow, mumbling “My Lady,” before turning around and leaving — presumably to his own chambers.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and shut the door. You hadn’t expected Aemond to say such a thing — maybe his brother, but not him!

Your handmaidens helped you get dressed for bed and you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your stomach.

As you lay in bed, listening to the sound of the sea — you had insisted to keep the shutters of the window nearest your bed open and one of your handmaidens reluctantly did so, lecturing you about how it would be a terrible thing if you got sick the night before your wedding — your thoughts drifted back to Aemond. You wish he had come into your chambers.

The next morning, you had awoken to terrible news. One of your handmaidens — Aimya — was dead. Her corpse was found in one of the halls. Your handmaidens said that Otto Hightower claimed that given the girl’s pale skin, she must have picked up a sickness. They weren’t allowed to see the body and had no confirmation that this was true.

You had hoped the marriage ceremony would be canceled because of this, but of course, nobody cared for the death of a random dornish girl. Nobody except for you and the other handmaidens.

Over the years, you had all become very close to each other, and her death was like a ship wrecking when it was close to land. The night before your wedding! If you didn’t know any better, you would have taken her death as a warning.

Your handmaiden — Brise, a woman a few years older than you with a sharp face — leads you to your vanity and has you strip out of your nightgown. Your other handmaiden — Miana, a young girl with rosy cheeks — untangling your hair with a shaky hand as you sat atop your vanity stool, naked and shivering.

Brise shut the window before grabbing your wedding robes. After Miana was done, you stood up, facing the older woman. She held the traditional Targaryen wedding robes.

How disappointing. You had always thought your wedding would be an extravagant thing, but it seems not.

“Aimya seemed fine. I-I didn’t think…” Miana broke out into a sob.

Brise shook her head as she helped you into your clothing. “I don’t trust these Targaryens,” she said the name with such disdain that you couldn’t help but look at her surprised.

“That is my betrothed’s family you are speaking about,” you say as Brise finishes tying the front of the robe.

Miana grabbed the headpiece, but was shaking so much that Brise grabbed it out of the young girl's hands and placed it atop your head instead.

“My apologies, My Lady.” But you knew Brise, and you knew she wasn’t sorry at all. You decide not to dwell on it and begin your trip out of the castle.

You stand face to face with Aemond, your expression one of pain as he cuts into your palm. You bite into your covered bottom lip to silence any sound of pain that would try to leave you.

Aemond’s own hand is bloody, as you had cut into it first and you can feel it on your palm as you press it against his. The blood doesn’t do much to hide the lack of warmth in his body, but you brush it off to it just being a reaction to the cold of the Island that is Dragonstone.

An older man wraps a cloth around your hands and you watch as your blood — now mixed with Aemond’s — drips into the cup. You hear the man say some words in Valyrian, but you don’t understand any of it.

Soon, you are drinking out of the chalice. You take a small sip, the heavy taste of copper now on your tongue. You hand it over to Aemond, and he holds your gaze as he drinks the rest of your shared blood.

Then, you both kiss. It’s a quick thing, and you are aware of the eyes of Aemond’s family watching you.

Hours later, you are in Aemond’s chambers. You suppose you’ll be returning to King's Landing very soon.

You sit on the edge of his bed, anxiously fiddling with your fingers as Aemond walks over to you.

Gently, he takes off your headpiece and places it on the side table. Using one cold finger, Aemond places it under your chin, forcing you to look into his purple eye.

You’re captivated. You are sure you will never in your lifetime see anyone that looks like Aemond. Sure, they others have purple eyes, and white hair. But Aemond is unique, with his sharp features, and one eye.

“There is no need to be nervous,” Aemond reassured you. His fingers trail down your neck, to your pulse, gently pressing them there. “Wife.”

You watch as Aemond takes in a sharp breath at the feeling of you, and he quickly pulls his hand away.

Your husband sits down on the bed next to you.

“We need not do this tonight if you don’t wish for it,” he says, surprising you.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you speak, “No.. I want to, Husband.”

Aemond lets out a harsh breath out of his nose and nods. “Very well.”

Gently, Aemond reached out, cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. He presses his lips to yours, and for some reason he still tastes of copper.

His hands find their way to the ties of your robe and undo them. He pulls away from your lips and pushes down your clothing, leaving it on the floor.

Aemond looks down at you, and you feel your nipples harden very quickly.

Gently, Aemond pushes you down on the bed, so that you are laying with your back flat against it, your head resting on one of the soft pillows.

He rests one of his hands on your hips, and the other — the scarred one — trails down to your breasts. Aemond presses his palm atop the left side of your chest, almost like he’s trying to feel your heartbeat. When he’s satisfied, Aemond brings his fingers to your nipples. He tugs on your nub and you let out a soft gasp.

His attention is instantly brought back to your mouth and he presses his lips to yours. It’s very different from your first kiss when you were getting married. This one is rough, like he’s trying to consume you.

His fingers dig into your breast — so much so that it’s starting to hurt. You let out a small mewl, and Aemond instantly lets go of your lips and breast.

Slowly, Aemond kisses down your chest, and stomach, until he is at your hips.

Aemond undos the ties of his own robes, and drops the garment onto the floor.

He spreads your legs and presses a small kiss to your inner thigh, “So pretty.”

You let out a small, pleased, sigh. “Husband..”

Aemond brings his lips back to your thighs, and brushes his lips against them. Using his cold hands, Aemond holds onto your hips, pressing them down to the mattress. You shiver at his touch, and when he licks at your thigh, you feel small tingles spread through your body.

Your eyes flutter shut, and that’s when you feel it. Something sharp presses into you and your eyes shoot open. You wriggle in Aemond’s grip, but feel his pale hands pin you down. All you can see is the white of his head as you look down at him.

You let out a small cry, confused. “A-Aemond.. What are you…!”

Aemond’s lips finally release the hold they had on your thigh, and when he looks up at you, your eyes land on his bloody mouth.

Before you can even do anything, Aemond lets go of your hips and instead crawls over you, his lithe frame atop of you. Using one hand, Aemond grabs ahold of your wrists and pins them over your head. His other hand grabs your jaw and pushes it to the side, revealing your neck.

Aemond presses his nose to your neck, taking in your scent. His eyes flutter shut and you hiss in pain as he bites into your flesh.

Your legs kick at Aemond, but it doesn’t deter him.

Soon enough, you run out of energy and cease your struggling. You quiver under Aemond, and tears run down your cheeks.

Just when you’re on the brink of death, Aemond pulls away, pressing a wet kiss to the area he just bit.

Aemond lets go of your wrists, but still holds onto your jaw, though his grip has loosened.

Your eyes flutter open, your vision blurry.

Aemond bites into his own wrist, sucking up a considerable amount of blood, before pulling away.

Aemond presses his lips to yours, and forces you to drink in the mix of your’s and Aemond’s blood. Some blood escapes you and Aemond’s mouth and trickles down your cheeks.

Aemond pulls away after what feels like an eternity. You take in big gulps of air, your lungs burning.

A warmth runs through your body before being replaced with a coldness. It feels like you're freezing. Aemond kisses at your tears before pressing his lips to your bloody cheeks. He coos against them, feeling their warmth turn cool, “I know this is now what you were expecting, wife, but that was not the end. Perhaps…” he trails off.  Aemond pulls away, letting go of your wrists. His eye looks down at your naked body, and despite it all, you feel a heat spreading through you. “After our marriage ceremony.”

a/n: Wrote this in celebration for season 2 of hotd, though this was written a few days before it came out! divider creds: @saradika

tom riddle—the man who fell from earth.

summary: tom riddle’s love language is literature.

word count: 1.4k

fanfiction no. 001

hey! this is my first fanfic on this blog so reblogs are really appreciated but also just any interaction :D

tom riddle? don’t waste your time, they’d tell you. heartless, merciless and unsettling in his every appearance, the very air around him seemed heavy and polluted. his superiority radiated from him—it was his very aura—piercing those who dared to meet his eye and challenging them to rethink their own inferiority, knowing they could not. he held himself so confidently, and his confidence was not misplaced.

his presence was always known, though he was often sly and discreet himself, but it was hard to ignore the shift in atmosphere when he was nearby.

but you tried harder still, to become lost within your world of fiction, and force the world around you to dissipate. with the right book, this was not a difficult task by any means, and only in the most raucous or unrelenting circumstances could you be lifted from your reverie.

“y/n!” your friend hissed louder than before, looking awkwardly and apologetically between you and tom riddle.

“what is it?” you asked impatiently, shaking their hand off your shoulder.

“it’s nothing,” another voice responded, causing you to look up to where tom riddle was looming above you with a faint smirk on his face.

gulping down your embarrassment, you took a shaky breath in, “am i in your seat?” you asked him, knowing the answer he would give you.

“yes,” he replied, walking around the table as he pulled his blazer sleeves down to his wrists, “but you can have it today,” he added, sitting down opposite you and your friend.

professor slughorn was not far behind mr. riddle, and addressed the class almost immediately, leaving you silent before the heartless boy, left to wonder what made him give up his seat to you.

such a tedious textbook and yet your face was buried in it for the better part of your potions lesson, avoiding the eyes that crept above the book’s spine. they were hard as stone, but with the right light, small, soft crevices appeared within them—it was as if you were catching a glimpse of the soft underbelly.

mere days had passed until you and tom met again. this time, you were alone. caught in a rainstorm, you waited under the cover of stone in the edges of the courtyard, watching students stumble over the wet cobblestone frantically. you held your bag tightly to your chest and watched the heavens above you unleash.

as you leant further over to see past the roof, searching for blue skies, your balance became increasingly unsteady. in an attempt to save your bag and books falling to the soaked ground to be ruined, you tried to regain composure without spreading your arms. as you became resigned to your fate, sure you would feel the hard ground collide with either your bottom or knees, a tight grip secured around your waist.

saving you from one embarrassment, you faced another humiliation upon turning around to view your rescuer—tom riddle. he’d appeared out of nowhere and his hair was not wet, but perfectly dry, as was his uniform.

“what were you doing?” asked tom, cocking an eyebrow in disappointment.

“looking for blue sky,” you told the truth.

he scoffed in disbelief.

tom sat with you a while, waiting for the rain to stop. he wasn’t much of a talker, he rather communicated with his eyes and his expressions, which were often hard to read or understand. but he listened to you talk without interruption, and answered the few questions you shot his way.

“madame bovary?” tom’s eyes flicked to your bag which was falling open on the bench between you.

“yeah, have you read it?”

“once. i wasn’t keen.”

“why not?”

“i understand that the author’s ending was to further drive his narrative, but to me, he made her weak,” tom admitted.

“weak? i don’t think weak is the right word,” you shook your head in disagreement. “i think she was yearning,” you contradicted him.

“yearning?” his chuckle was hollow, disbelieving, “what for?”

“an escape. her whole life she felt trapped and overlooked.”

“and that is how you’d choose to find it? an escape.”

you were taken aback by his forward question, for you were discussing madame bovary, not yourself. “well, no.”

tom simply nodded as if to conclude that he was right, and though you had further thoughts swirling in your brain, you dare not speak them out loud. instead, you changed the subject again and carried on much the same as before—you talking, tom listening.

｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

as the days turned into a week gone by, tom had made very few appearances. however, each time you saw him, you could not forget the exchange, and found yourself reliving it in your mind several times a day. everyone’s unsolicited advice had disintegrated and fell on deaf ears, for you no longer cared for advice unless it was from desired lips.

“what are you thinking about?” asked tom, approaching your table at the library.

“potions,” you fibbed, watching him adjust his shirt sleeves as he sat beside you.

“that’s your astronomy text book,” he replied matter-of-factly.

you looked down at the table where your textbook was wide open, showing several images of constellations with detailed captions. you scoffed, avoiding his eye, thus missing the small smirk that stretched in the corner of his mouth.

“i have something for you.”

“you do?” you asked, and it seemed your heart was responding too.

tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a book with a neatly decorated cover and handed it over to you. keeping your eyes fixed to his, you accepted his gift with a polite but giddy smile.

‘jane eyre’

“i’ve been meaning to read this for a while,” you confessed, tracing your fingertips over the illustration on the cover. “thank you.”

“do tell me your thoughts when you’re finished,” said tom before getting up to leave.

so abrupt. it was as if he was almost embarrassed to have you know he was thinking of you, or at least he had been. you flicked through the pages and breathed in that familiar aroma of a fresh book and began at the beginning.

for such a detail heavy and long novel, you devoured each chapter within minutes. staying up late to finish just another page and reading within every spare second of your day became the norm until you had consumed the last word of the gifted book.

you clasped the book against your chest tightly, skipping down the halls of hogwarts as you looked for tom. you’d talked him rarely over time you were reading ‘jane eyre’ but you had seen him often. and always he saw you, carrying that book around as if it was your lifeline, your blood supply.

“i finished,” you informed him triumphantly, sitting down on the library bench next to him.

“and what did you think?” he questioned with a satisfied grin, closing his textbook gently and straightening his back.

“i think,” you began, “i understand why you like it better than ‘madame bovary’.”

“but what did you think about it?” he asked again, not much inclined to listen to his own thoughts through your words.

“i thought it was incredible. jane seemed…”

“yes?”

“like someone who would understand.”

tom relaxed, unaware he had been leaning forward and hanging onto your every word. he agreed with you, of course. he thought he might agree with everything you said. but he didn’t know how to tell you.

“can i give you another?” he asked. strange, for he did not often find himself asking for permission.

“i’d like that,” you accepted, inching your hand closer to his on the bench.

tom didn’t notice at first, nodding in approval and beginning to think of the next title he would give you. he always seemed lost in thought, like he was analysing both you and the situation you were in. what did he think of you? you wondered.

you slid your pinky between his little finger and ring finger and watched tom clench his jaw. his entire body tensed from the small interaction, the small and simple touch. and for a moment, he let himself forget about books and propriety, swiftly cupping your face in his cold hands and pressing a reckless kiss to your lips. he had to be quick, he feared he wouldn’t be able to do it if he wasn’t fast enough.

“you should read ‘sense and sensibility’ next,” he whispered lowly, “i have a copy.”

though your heart was leaping bounds and your breath was trembling, you managed a small response—“i’d love to borrow it.”

tom pulled away and collected himself, reopening his textbook, which you noted was astronomy, and said, “it’s yours.”

alright, hope you enjoyed that ! i don’t have a tag list but let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :D

House of the Dragon Incorrect Quotes

Aemond: If we don’t get out of this alive… If we’re both about to die… I love you, y/n! *Neither of you die* You: … Aemond: … You: So do you wanna talk about somethi- Aemond: No thank you.

Aegon: Why should I make my bed, when I'm just gonna unmake it to sleep in it anyways? Alicent: Why should I feed you if you're just gonna die anyways? Aegon: Aegon: I'll go make my bed-

You: Aegon won’t wake up, what do I do? Aemond: Did you try kicking him? You: Yes. Aemond: I’m out of ideas.

You: Your Honor, I hereby submit the following to the court: You: Aegon, what the actual FUCK?

Aemond: Y/n, I am nothing if not a man of principle. Aemond: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Daemon: I'm a reverse necromancer. You: Isn't that just killing people? Daemon: Ah, technicality.

Aegon: I was arrested for being too cool. Aemond: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

You: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives Aemond: I wake up at 4:30 AM You: You: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

Aegon: Change is inedible. Aemond: Don't you mean inevitable? Aegon, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Aemond: What the fuck is wrong with you?! Aegon: Wow, you could start with a 'good morning'. Aemond: Good morning. What the fuck is wrong with you?!

You: We’re getting married, bitches! Daemon: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

Aegon, struggling to keep upright in his 1 inch heels: Yeah, I-I don’t really think heels are for me Rhaenyra, pointing at them and walking flawlessly in sparkly golden 6 inch heels: WEAK.

Not Aemond having to ride out to the middle of bumfuck nowhere to get to Vhagar 😭

Mattheo Riddle Masterlist

One-Shots:

The Fruit of Your Labour

A Little bit of Green (coming soon)

Headcanons:

Tom Riddle x Reader x Mattheo Riddle Love Triangle Headcanons

Sleeping with them

Making out with them

Touches

Shifting cause my soulmate is in a whole other reality🤪

Blessing

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Includes: mentions of past rape, toxic relationship, denial, thoughts of murder

Summary: You visit an unconscious Aegon.

You take in a deep breath before entering Aegon's chambers.

The pit in your stomach grows heavier as your eyes land on him. He lays atop what used to be your shared bed — you've moved into one of the guest chambers unable to be around him for more than a few moments. One of his legs is propped up and bandages cover his entire body.

It isn't until you stand next to his bed that you can see all of his injuries. Whatever burns that aren't covered, horrify you and you must shut your eyes before looking back at your husband.

Your eyes wander up to Aegon's scarred face. He looks strangely peaceful for what has happened to him.

He could die, you realize. The thought doesn't seem real and you aren't sure what to make of it.

If Aegon died... he wouldn't be able to hurt you anymore. He couldn't hold you down during the middle of the night, the taste of wine on his tongue as he forced it past your lips.

But you didn't want Aegon dead! Of course not... He was your husband and King. And at times, he was nice to you.

You take a seat on the chair next to Aegon's bed.

Has anyone else visited Aegon? Not many people liked him, but surely his mother and siblings had.

You stare at Aegon. You think again of how peaceful he looks. These days when Aegon is awake, he's either tired or stressed or both. Perhaps this was a good thing. He can finally rest.

His silver hair is splayed out over his pillow and it would be so easy to just grab it and smother him.

You scoot closer to the bed and gently push a few tiny hairs away from his face, before moving it away and gripping the pillow that rests under him. Your other hand tenderly holds onto his bandage covered arm.

There's nobody else in the room. There are a few guards posted outside of Aegon's chambers, but they'd never know. Nobody would think it was you who did it. Everyone would just think he succumbed to his injuries.

You don't notice when Aegon's lips part just the tiniest bit, until he lets out a whisper of your name.