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myunconquerablesoul · 1 year

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His Favored.

r.sukuna x fem!reader

Warnings: historical au, mentions of violence (towards an OC, but never us. Not even Sukuna is allowed to abuse us!), mentions of blood, mentions of wanting to kill someone, mentions of someone hanging, nudity (reader is a concubine), it gets steamy in the end, but nothing too detailed. (I think) Sukuna is soft(?) in this one.

Wordcount: 3.445 (I would like to say I'm sorry, but I'm not)

Fanart

The servant lays in a bloody mess before you. He was not dead, but you were sure he wished he'd be by now.

Sukuna is staring directly at you. His attention was no longer on the poor soul.

His hands grip your cheeks, and the others hold your wrists.

"I told you," Sukuna says, voice low, "to not speak to that servant, or there would be consequences."

He lost his temper today. He has seen you talking to that lowlife, hidden in one of the many hallways in his estate. And as if that wasn't enough, that peasant tried to pull you into his embrace. Forcefully.

Looking back, it was a miracle for him to be still alive.

"Now, why would my concubine disobey my orders just like that?" It was simply inexcusable to him for anyone else to speak to you the way he did when it wasn't any secret that you were, clearly, the curse's favorite.

"The servant... he..." He saw your eyes drifting to the servant again. Nervous. You were in an inner battle with yourself. He had secretly planned to whisk you away from Sukuna's estate so you could have freedom and independence.

You'd felt his kindness and sincerity toward you in the short time you'd known him. You knew he meant well, but it was already too late.

Sukuna, on the other hand, felt that you were hesitating to tell him. Not only that, but you were trying to protect that poor excuse of a man.

It made him want to kill him right on the spot.

Then he abruptly let go of you and turned his attention back to the poor soul. You felt the shift in the atmosphere immediately. You knew that if you did not do anything right this instant, the man's head would be rolling around the floor within seconds.

You were trying to figure out what to do.

If you asked for it to stop, your master would get the wrong idea and kill the man without hesitation. You were sure of it.

"My lord," You had to try to defuse this situation. "may I ask for us to speak privately?" If not for the sake of the man on the floor, then for your sanity.

"I will tell you everything, but please... alone." Sukuna stopped in his tracks upon hearing your request.

If it were anyone else's request, no, others would not dare to. They only dare to speak to him when he addresses them. But you, you were always a particular case for Sukuna.

For a moment, you were met with nothing but silence. You feared that you had made everything worse and sealed the servant's faith.

But then, without warning, Sukuna turned back to you, grabbed you by your wrist, and led you out of the throne room.

You did not dare look back to see if the servant was alright. Knowing it would end in unwanted bloodshed.

"Uraume!"

You haven't even noticed Uraume standing there. But you weren't given the time to properly acknowledge them, as your shared master dragged you forward.

"Ensure that the filth's wounds are taken care of, and lock him in his room until I decide what will become of him!" He spat.

Sukuna leads you to his room.

It wasn't the first time you were here, but the first time you didn't know the outcome of what would happen.

The curse let go of you after sliding the Shoji shut. He leaves you standing in the middle of the room. Sukuna's dark eyes meet yours.

"Explain." He didn't yell.

For a moment, you believe you would've preferred if he did. It was a painful reminder of how patient he was with you. Of how much you could get away with.

"The servant wanted to take me away from here. I told him that I wanted to stay. But he kept pressuring me."

Sukuna leans against the wall, staring at you with a dangerous, hungry light in his eyes. The fact that you wanted to stay was good. He likes it when you're obedient.

"I never wanted to leave you, my lord." You got down on your knees and bowed until your forehead touched the ground. "Please, you have to believe me."

Sukuna looked at you for a long moment. He lets out a low growl, stepping up to you so that he towers over you. "Prove it, concubine."

"He wrote me letters. I can show you." You were still looking at the floor. You knew you had to be careful. If you say something wrong, misstep, or accidentally anger him more, the servant won't live to see the next day.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at that, curious. "Show me."

"They are in my chambers."

Sukuna steps back, ordering you to stand and lead the way to your room.

"Here."

Sukuna sat on your bed as he took the letters and unfolded them. But before skimming each word, he takes a good look at you.

You stood there with all your might. There's not a bit of fear in your eyes, just concern.

Ever since your village offered you as an addition to his harem, the curse felt that there was something about you. Sukuna felt a strong pull toward you, an attraction he had never felt for someone else.

"The servant, Yuto, told me a week ago that he fell in love with me and asked for my hand." You studied Sukuna momentarily, wondering if mentioning his name was wise.

Sukuna, however, didn't pay any mind to that. Instead, he tried his best to conceal his surprise.

He thought that you would try to protect the lowlife. Try to convince him to let him go, but you tell how things were - nothing but the truth - without concealing anything.

"I told him that I didn't feel the same way. But he wouldn't give up. I didn't want to cause too much attention towards this."

You didn't feel alarmed per se. It was just very out of character for the curse to react the way he currently was. He was too calm about all of this newfound information.

Sukuna chuckles at that. "Or were you too afraid?" tone mocking.

"I was afraid of what you would do to him." He raised a brow at that. So, you elaborated a bit more. "He does not deserve to die because he fell in love."

When he hears your words, his eyes darken again. Sukuna eyes you, and you can tell that his thoughts seem elsewhere.

"You're right." As you watch him, he gets up from your bed and approaches you to stand directly before you, towering over you.

"One does not deserve to die for simply falling in love, dear concubine."

Standing before you, you could now practically feel the bloodlust radiating from him.

"But trying to steal someone else's property, especially when said property belongs to me, the king of curses, is where every human with minimum survival instincts may draw the line." he spat, full of venom.

You averted your gaze from him. You knew he was right. You, too, could not understand where Yutu's boldness came from.

But then again, love does blind people.

"That bastard deserves to perish for even thinking he had a chance to get away with it." now that was more like the Sukuna, you know.

You felt smaller with every passing second, and you could no longer think of a way to save the servant's life.

When you looked down on one of your master's hands, you could see the letters in a tied grip. The papers were utterly wrinkled.

Not that it mattered.

"Or is it perhaps that my dearest concubine grew close to that poor excuse of a man and began to like the idea?"

Your eyes snapped to him in an instant. "I didn't grow close to him. I didn't even like him." you desperately needed him to believe you.

"If that were the case," Sukuna counters, "why did you keep these letters?"

You immediately began to shake your head. "I never let him believe he had a chance. I always told him that I belonged to you, my lord." The way Yuto kept insisting the past week made you uneasy; even remembering it made you feel uncomfortable.

Sukuna then gently stroked your hair - a silent apology after noticing your growing discomfort.

He didn't mean to talk to you in that tone, but the mere thought of you being possibly interested in someone other than him-

"I kept the letters because I wanted you to believe me when I told you."

The curse nods, seeming to accept what you're telling him. It pleased him that you were thinking about telling him. "Good girl." His fingers slip down to your chin, stroking it gently.

"I wanted to tell him to stop today, but then you saw us, and- you know the rest."

Sukuna nods, his fingers still caressing your chin. "Indeed... but I want us to go over our boundaries again, dear concubine. I should not have to remind you what happens when you speak to other men besides me."

"No, my lord." you felt the room lighten up again, and for a moment, everything seemed to return to normal. "You should not worry; I will never accept a man who claims to love me. I know my place." you tried to brighten up the mood. But then-

"And if I was the one who loved you?" he asks, tone turning dangerous. "What if I was the one who desired you? Would you have given me your hand?" Sukuna looked at you with his intense eyes again. Something hidden behind them, something you could not read, but your heart answered before your mind could comprehend what was happening.

"I would."

Sukuna considers you for a long moment, his gaze boring into yours.

"I know you to be loyal and obedient, and because of that, I am not as concerned... but I need you to make this promise regardless." Sukuna leans closer to you, his eyes dark and fierce. "If another man speaks to you, you will tell me. No secrets, no hiding that from me."

You nod at that, still not trusting your voice enough. The thought that the king of curses could be jealous and possessive of you made you smile a bit.

Sukuna smiles at you and strokes your cheek and hair. "Good girl, you look beautiful when you smile."

He still didn't know what to do with the servant, but he knew he had had enough of this useless conversation.

His tone shifts again, voice low. "Let us not dwell on this further. Shall we go to bed?"

"Whenever you please."

Sukuna laughs softly, his tone playful and flirtatious. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," he teases you as he pics you over his shoulders and takes you back to his chambers.

Of course, he could stay here and take you right then and there, but he wanted to spend the night in comfort with you.

"Here, let me help you out of these things."

"Yes, my lord."

Sukuna removes your dress, leaving you in a thin chemise. He moves behind you, his hands slipping to the laces of that piece of clothing, his breath warm on your skin.

It feels all too domestic to romantic. And somehow, you can't seem to shake something off your mind. You weren't sure what would become of the servant. But something about your conversation with your master seemed to be off.

"My lord, may I ask something?"

Sukuna hums. "Ask away, dear concubine."

How should you put it? This road you were taking could lead to death, but on the other hand, you needed to know. So you took a risk.

"You asked me if it were you who'd love me."

Sukuna momentarily stops what he's doing. "Yes, I remember..." a dangerous glint enters his dark eyes again for a moment, but it vanishes as quickly as it does. "Continue, dear concubine."

"I- if.. if it's not too bold of me to ask."

The last concubine who dared ended up hanging in the backyard as a reminder of your status - a reminder never to seek more. It would be best never to forget that your only purpose was to satisfy your master's needs.

"Speak. I'm listening," Sukuna tells you softly, hands returning to work on your laces. His eyes trail down the curve of your neck to your back, lingering momentarily.

He knew where this was going. Today was indeed a day full of surprises.

"Do you?" there it was. a silent question. He never thought that you would pull through.

Sukuna's fingers freeze on the remaining laces of your clothes, his hands stilling. "... Do I what?" he asks cautiously.

"Do you love me?" The curse didn't know what to say first. He could deny it and proceed as if nothing happened, but the way your voice calls to him like you were hoping for some miracle.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally replies to you. "...I do."

"You- you Do? But- you have so many beautiful concubines at your service. So many women who'd willingly offer themselves to you…" your voice lost confidence, turning smaller with every passing second.

"None compare to you," Sukuna promises, voice soft and genuine. "None have a hold on my mind like you, my dear concubine. I do not feel for them what I feel for you."

Sukunas's hands slip to your waist and work on your laces again. "Do you think you could come to love me as I have you?" he asks.

It takes you a moment to respond. Sukuna is uncharacteristically patient with you.

"When that servant first told me about his feelings for me, I told him that my heart already belonged to someone else." you reply breathlessly.

"And who, pray tell, would your heart belong to?" Sukuna murmurs, voice low. The laces are almost finished, the thin chemise the only thing separating you from Sukuna's touch.

"Can I be so bold?"

Sukuna hums, a low grin curving his lips. "Yes."

He pulls the last lace free, the garment falling at your feet. "Tell me, dear concubine, whose heart do I have?" he questions eagerly, turning you around and looking straight at your eyes.

"Mine."

Sukuna smiles at you, his eyes shining brightly. "You are truly a good girl," he exclaims, a voice full of affection. "But that answer proves what you knew all along, doesn't it?"

Sukuna begins to move against you, his hand now caressing your cheek, and he leans down towards you as if expecting you to kiss him. His dark eyes are locked on yours as if looking for your consent.

You give a slight nod.

Sukuna cups your face in both hands, his fingers gently pushing your hair out of the way. He moves slowly, not breaking eye contact until your noses and lips are all but touching. His breath is warm against your skin, your heart racing.

"Is this what you want, dear concubine?" he whispers, low and sultry, full of desire for you.

"Am I allowed to speak what I truly want?"

Sukuna chuckles in response, voice low and breathy. "You do know that I allow you to say whatever you'd like, don't you?" he questions you, still close to you that the two of you are almost kissing. "So, speak your mind, dear concubine."

"I- I want to be more than just a mere concubine to you, my lord."

Sukuna stares at you for a long moment, eyes heavy with consideration. "And what more would you like to be to me, dear concubine?" he whispers, looking down at you. "Do you wish to ascend past this place of yours... to be on equal footing with me?"

"I would never dare to ask such things."

"But, if I were to offer them to you, would you accept... dear concubine?" Sukuna's voice is low and husky.

There's promise there, hope, and a little bit of lust. You've been a good and loyal concubine, not one to ever ask for more than what you've been given, and he rewards loyalty.

"What if I allowed you to become my equal?" it all sounds too good to be true.

"Then- then I would be selfish and accept."

"There is nothing wrong with being a little bit selfish," Sukuna reminds you, his fingers running through your loose hair.

"You deserve this, my dear concubine. You have been loyal and obedient for as long as you've been here. You deserve to be treated as my equal."

Sukuna's eyes gleam, his gaze lingering on you in a way you hadn't known him to do before.

"You are more than just a servant," Sukuna says, voice low.

"I'm willing to give you a new title, my dear concubine..." he pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues.

His gaze is locked on yours, his eyes sparkling with love and lust. "I want to make you my wife."

"W- wife? As in- in your lady?"

"You will be my lady, yes," Sukuna tells you, voice huskier as he speaks. "My dear, loyal wife. And I will be yours. You will be queen alongside me."

"Your body belongs to me," he adds. "But in every other regard, you will be my equal. We will walk among the humans together, as their rulers, in love, in trust. And I will grant you anything you desire... no matter how dark."

"I- I don't know what to say."

"Then do not say anything," Sukuna tells you. He lifts your face towards him until your lips are almost touching. "Show me with your actions how you feel about this, dear concubine."

"Show me what you feel," he adds, voice low. His gaze is heavy with desire for you, and your heart pounds in your chest, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

Sukuna is kissing you passionately, his hands tangled in your loose hair and pulling you closer. You can feel the force behind the kiss, the want and need from the curse, which sends your body into chaos. He moves a hand down, driving up your body with purpose. They continue moving upwards, over your ribs and chest, to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently before they caress you.

"I want this. Everything you're willing to give. I want to be selfish. I want you, please…"

Sukuna responds to your words by deepening the kiss and pulling you even closer to him. He's no longer in the mood for words, his hands sliding up your curves to your neck, pinning you to the wall.

He's gentle, despite the force of his kiss, and he makes sure he doesn't hurt you — but there's no denying he wants you, and you can feel the lust spilling from him as he pushes his body more and more onto yours.

Sukuna groans into the kiss. Your mouth is against his, your lips and his moving back and forth to satisfy this thirst between you two.

He breaks from the kiss and stares at you with soft eyes. His smile is heavy and filled with love, and he leans to press another kiss against your lips. "Then, from today on, dear concubine, you will be my wife."

"You are mine," Sukuna says to himself, too lost in this moment. "My wife, my love. No longer my concubine, my subject, but my equal."

He trails more kisses against you, those of love rather than lust. They are soft and gentle as if he's promising you only the best.

When the two of you are breathless, Sukuna carries you toward the bed. Your heart flutters within your chest as if you're in a dream come true. He lays you upon the bed, and his lips are again moving against yours, soft and gentle, full of love, as if he's worshipping.

He pulls back to look down at you, his eyes heavy. He is long gone. Body and mind filled with nothing but pure ecstasy. "Mine."

"Always yours, my lord." The curse's tone was possessive and full of devotion. It made you breathless to think that was all for you.

Sukuna's eyes locked with yours, his every movement designed to be as erotic as possible. His kiss is heavy, and how he moves against you is enough to force a moan from your lips. His fingers explore your body, moving lower slowly so that you are practically panting by the time he reaches his destination.

"Let me love you in every way possible."

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #fem!reader #jjk

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edenesth · 8 months

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The Way to His Heart [14]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 13 | Fic Masterlist | Part 15

"J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you observed the scars scattered across her body, wounds that hadn't been there the last time you saw her. The severity of her punishment was evident, and judging by the marks, it seemed unlikely they would fade anytime soon, if ever.

The younger girl smirked bitterly, "Are you happy now? All five of us have been beaten nearly to death, left with scars that will likely never fully heal in this lifetime. Mother will serve until the day she dies, and the three of us will pay for a good chunk of our lives!"

As if anticipating your inquiry about the former minister, she shook her head and balled her fists, "Father has endured enough beatings and torture to render him almost paralysed, and guess what? He's been exiled to god knows where. If you want more details, perhaps you should ask your husband about it."

Your heart sank at the mention of Seonghwa, "Wh-what do you mean? Your punishments were determined by His Majesty. Why would my husband be involved—"

She scoffed incredulously, "Did you truly forget who General Park really is? He sat back and enjoyed the show while we suffered, allowing the torture to happen. That absolute monster—he did this to us; he ruined our lives forever. I mean, sure, we weren't great to you either, but look at you now, Lady Park. It's all thanks to us that you're who you are today."

Noting your silence, she continued with a sly edge, "Though I wouldn't celebrate too soon if I were you. Who's to say when he'll show his true colours once he's grown tired of you?"

Before you could respond, Hongjoong appeared at your side, his tone laced with disbelief, "Worry about yourself first, peasant. Oh, the audacity of this young lady. Do you even realise who you're addressing? How dare you try to twist this around and play the victim? You and your family got what you deserved. Count yourself lucky that you're still alive and well, hm?"

The dressmaker turned to signal the factory owner and the elderly man immediately rushed over anxiously, "S-sir, what brings you to this part of the factory? P-please, allow me to escort you out."

Halting the man, Hongjoong gestured towards your stepsister, "This one right here was being disrespectful to Lady Park. Would you mind teaching her a good lesson for me? Otherwise, I may have to reconsider our choice of fabric supplier."

Suddenly realising her mistake, Jinjoo trembled like a leaf under the owner's stern gaze. He bowed repeatedly at you and your friend, "O-of course, sir! Rest assured, I'll ensure she never forgets her manners again. You have my word!"

As Hongjoong guided you out of the store, you remained silent, your thoughts swirling from the disturbing revelation that the general had been involved in the punishments of your family.

Walking alongside the dressmaker, the weight of the revelation bore down on you like a suffocating blanket. The image of Seonghwa, once your loving husband, now tainted with the sinister aura of someone who could watch others suffer without flinching, haunted your thoughts. Sure, you were there to witness him extracting the confession from your father, but you never fathomed that he would actually be involved in the subsequent punishment.

Your stepsister's words echoed in your mind, stirring up a cocktail of dread and uncertainty. Could it be true? Have you really forgotten the true nature of General Park? The man you had once trusted implicitly now appeared in a new, unsettling light. The realisation sent shivers down your spine as you contemplated the implications.

Fear gnawed at your insides as you entertained the chilling possibility that if he could inflict such cruelty upon your family, what would stop him from doing the same to you if ever he grew displeased? The thought sent a chill down your spine, leaving you questioning everything you once believed about the man you loved.

Throughout the remainder of the day, you remained unusually quiet, your thoughts clearly elsewhere. Hongjoong opted not to pry, deciding to wait until you were back within the safety of your home before broaching the subject. Despite his efforts to lighten the mood and draw a smile from you, it seemed futile. He was acutely aware of the impact Jinjoo's words must have had on you, especially given your delicate emotional state. After enduring years of mistreatment, he could see how trusting others fully must be an immense challenge.

Later that evening as you sat down for dinner together, he finally broke the silence, setting down his chopsticks with a sigh, "What's on your mind, Lady Park? You know you can talk to me, right?"

You paused at his question, pondering whether to confide in him about your inner turmoil. How would he respond? Would he be disappointed in you? After all, the general was his close friend. It seemed likely he would take Seonghwa's side and defend him. Though your husband hadn't given you any reason to doubt his affection thus far, his decision to hide this information from you must carry some significance.

"It's nothing, Hongjoong. Maybe I'm just feeling a bit weary after our day out," You mumbled, resuming your meal and hurriedly stuffing more food into your mouth to avoid conversation. He frowned at your behaviour and gently intervened, placing a hand on yours, "Hey, hey, slow down. The food isn't going anywhere; it's all yours."

With his arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head disapprovingly, "Who are you trying to fool with that lie? You might be able to deceive anyone, even your dumb husband, but not me. You were perfectly fine until you ran into your... into her."

You froze, caught red-handed in your attempt to deflect. You should have known better than to think you could fool Hongjoong with such a feeble excuse. Instead of scolding you, he softened, uncrossing his arms and leaning in, his eyes full of understanding.

"Listen, I'm sorry I wasn't there by your side to defend you earlier. I should have prevented all of that from happening today; it's entirely my fault. When I heard what she said to you, I knew it would affect you. And now, seeing you like this, I can tell I was right. Don't you dare believe any of her ridiculous words, you hear me?"

Setting down your chopsticks shakily, you turned to face him, despair etched clearly on your features, "But Hongjoong, what if there's truth in what she was saying? Wh-what if he eventually grows tired of me? Will I end up suffering like all of them too?"

The dressmaker didn't have the heart to berate you, understanding your doubts despite the internal frustration he felt at your stepsister for undoing all the trust you had in Seonghwa with just a few words.

He released a deep breath and offered a smile, "Have you forgotten everything I've told you about how he's different when it comes to you? He would never do anything to hurt you; I can vouch for him. As ruthless as General Park can be, he reserves that side only for those who deserve it. Your family deserves every bit of the punishment they received for the harm they caused you. You shouldn't feel any guilt for them, you know?"

Hongjoong leaned in closer, his tone softening, "Trust me, she's just jealous of you. It's obvious she's envious of the life you have now, and she's intentionally trying to stir up trouble between you and your husband. Don't let her get to you. You and Seonghwa have something special, something she'll never understand."

As his words sank in, you felt a slight sense of relief wash over you. It did make sense that Jinjoo would resort to such tactics out of jealousy. After all, her resentment towards you had always been evident. You felt ashamed for entertaining the possibility of your husband hurting you when he had only ever been good towards you.

However, the memory of the scars on your stepsister's body lingered in your mind, knowing the ones on your father and stepmother were even worse than what you've seen. While you recognised that your family deserved the consequences of their actions, the realisation that Seonghwa had played a part in their suffering made you feel sick to your stomach. Your emotions were in disarray; it was difficult to act nonchalant after learning the unsettling truth.

Despite the turmoil raging within you like a storm, you didn't want to add to your friend's concerns. Putting on a smile, you nodded, "You're right, Hongjoong. I must be silly to let her words affect me like this." You forced a light chuckle and went back to your meal, hoping to change the subject.

Though the dressmaker felt somewhat reassured that you acknowledged his advice, he sensed you were still troubled by what you had learned. He could only hope that with time, you would be able to move past Jinjoo's words. The last thing Seonghwa needed upon his return from war was to find his beloved wife fearful of him.

Damnit, I shouldn't have taken her there.

"General Park hasn't arrived yet, you say? Well, who would have thought he'd become such a loving husband? This Lady Park must be quite remarkable for him to—"

Rolling his eyes, the general heard the familiar deep voice gossiping about him from outside the main tent, where meetings would take place. With a loud clear of his throat, he pulled open the flap and entered, his presence immediately causing everyone in the room to straighten up, "I'm here now, Mingi. It would be great if you could cease your idle chatter and get to work at once."

"S-sir! It's been a while, you look good—"

"Save it, Officer Song."

Acknowledging the command with a salute, the taller man swiftly proceeded to the central table, laying out numerous documents detailing the strategies he had developed, "Yes sir, here are some of the plans I've drafted thus far."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly and approached him. As he listened to his colleague's explanations, a satisfied smirk graced his lips, affirming his keen judgement in promoting the right individual.

General Officer Song had risen to become one of the most esteemed military strategists in Joseon, all thanks to General Park's recommendation. Your husband was notoriously difficult to impress, but Mingi's exceptional talents caught his attention during a particularly challenging battle many years ago. Despite being a mere low-ranking soldier at the time, he devised a brilliant plan that ultimately turned the odds in their favour, leading to an epic victory.

"Ruhon is known to be rash in their decision-making; their impulsiveness is evident in their sudden attack plans," The taller man explained, his fingers tracing over strategic points on the map, "We can capitalise on this by striking where they least expect us. Through my research, I've identified blind spots that will catch them off guard. May I have authorisation to deploy troops to these locations, sir?"

The general nodded decisively, "I have faith in your judgement, Officer Song. You've never let me down in all our years together; I'm confident this time will be no exception."

"Thank you, sir."

Once all the necessary arrangements had been finalised and everyone had been briefed on their roles, the meeting came to an end. While the other officers and soldiers hurried off to relay the information discussed and carry out their assigned duties, Officer Song lingered behind, sharing a knowing look with the general.

Taking a seat beside the person he considered his friend and mentor, Mingi offered a genuine smile, "Congratulations on your recent marriage, hyung-nim."

Returning the smile, Seonghwa gave the taller man a pat on the back, "Thank you, Mingi-yah. I hope you've been well these past few years. Once this is all over, might I hear news of your own wedding?"

Blushing faintly, the strategist shook his head, "Unfortunately, I haven't found my one yet. But I am happy for you, general. Everyone in Joseon seems to know about your new wife and her difficult past. I'm just glad you found each other. I heard you were granted a few days with Lady Park before coming here. How is she holding up?"

The mention of his wife brought a pang of discomfort, evoking memories of your heartbreaking farewell. Throughout his journey to the war site, your husband couldn't shake the image of your tear-stained face, "She's... she's handling it better than I expected, or maybe that's just what she's showing me. When I told her about my departure, she didn't break down. Instead, she smiled at me with understanding and simply asked when I would be leaving."

"Huh, did she really?" Mingi mused, a hint of admiration in his tone, "I suppose now I understand why you're so smitten with her. It seems she's truly as delightful as the rumours claimed." Even from the snippets of what he had heard, the strategist could tell that Lady Park was indeed an extraordinary person, and he could see why Seonghwa held you in such high regard.

With a nod, the general's expression grew sombre, "Indeed, she truly is. But I won't lie and say I'm not worried about her," He admitted, "When she first arrived, I treated her poorly. I mistook her for just another spoiled brat, only to learn she's suffered a life far worse than mine. I'll never forgive myself for that. From that moment on, I vowed to give her nothing but the best. You know, I had plans for a grand wedding, a chance to make up for everything..."

Officer Song's face mirrored your husband's solemnity as realisation dawned, "Then this war happened..."

"Yeah, but that's not all," Seonghwa continued, his voice heavy with worry, "I just... God, what if I don't return to her? I've only just found her..."

Bowing his head, the general felt overwhelmed by his concerns. Mingi placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "Have you forgotten who you are? You're General Park of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior. If anyone can make it out of this war unscathed, it would be you. Trust me, you will make it back to Lady Park. And you better invite me to that wedding of yours." The strategist said, his words laced with a touch of humour.

Despite the weight of his worries, your husband chuckled softly, nodding gratefully at the reassurance, "Of course, Mingi."

Before the two could continue their conversation, a soldier barged into the tent, panting heavily, "General Park! Some of Ruhon's troops have been spotted approaching. We need you out there!"

Alright, let's get this over with.

Meanwhile, back in the general's estate, you found yourself in your usual spot in the pavilion. Lady etiquette books lay scattered around, forgotten as your gaze drifted distantly over the tranquil lotus pond.

Regardless of the overwhelming emotions that had consumed you the day before upon learning the truth about your family's punishments, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for Seonghwa's presence. Being alone in the pavilion now felt even lonelier than before. Accustomed to his warm embrace, his absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

However, as you contemplated the absence of your husband's comforting presence, conflicting emotions surged within you.

No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't shake the unsettling realisation that the same hands that held you close were also stained with the blood of countless others. Hongjoong's reassurances echoed in your mind, yet a nagging doubt persisted. While he assured you that the general would never harm you, your moral compass grappled with the knowledge that he was capable of inflicting pain without hesitation, regardless of justification.

It just felt so... wrong.

"Ah, is this the famous lotus pond you've mentioned, Miss Jang?" The unexpected voice startled you out of your thoughts. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you let out a loud gasp at the sight of the fourth prince standing before you.

You scrambled to your feet immediately, performing the formal bow, "Y-your Highness! What brings you here?"

Rushing up behind Yeosang, the head maid panted heavily, bowing deeply before you and shooting an apologetic glance, "Mistress, I am so sorry for not alerting you of our guest! His Highness showed up spontaneously without making an appointment prior and wouldn't allow any of us to announce his arrival."

Eunsook nearly had a heart attack when one of the maids informed her that the prince had arrived unannounced, waiting to be greeted at the entrance of the estate. Jongho was absent, having gone out with a few other servants to replenish household essentials. Rushing over, she found that Yeosang had insisted on surprising you personally, leaving her flustered and anxious. With her master now at war, it was evident to her that His Highness was attempting to make an advance on you.

The prince couldn't help but grin at how adorably confused and caught off guard you looked, "Yes, that's right. I wanted to surprise you, Miss Jang. Are you surprised?"

Quickly regaining your composure and summoning the poise of a noblewoman, you nodded, "I guess I am, Your Highness," You said before turning to dismiss the elderly woman with an assuring smile, "It's alright, Eunsook. I was growing slightly bored anyway. Come, Prince Yeosang, let me show you around, and you can tell me why you've decided to pay us a surprise visit."

Recalling his fondness for flowers, you led him through the winding paths of the estate's gardens, each turn revealing a new burst of colour and fragrance. Sunlight danced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the well-tended flowerbeds, "Now, I know our humble garden obviously cannot compare to the ones in the palace, but I am very proud of our servants' hard work. What do you think, Your Highness?"

While your eyes remained fixed on the colourful flowers, the prince's gaze was captivated by you, his admiring gaze lingering on your graceful movements amidst the blooms.

"I agree; I think it's absolutely enchanting. While it may be humble, it surpasses the beauty of any of the palace's gardens." He remarked, his words carrying a subtle double meaning. He wondered if you could discern the implied compliment; he was indirectly comparing you to the royals in the palace. In his eyes, you outshone any of his sisters, his father's concubines, and all the potential candidates ever presented to him.

Yeosang found himself torn between amusement and slight disappointment as you appeared genuinely oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words. Your reply, however, pleased him, "Thank you, Your Highness. It seems you have good taste," You attempted a joke. Fortunately, he laughed in response, "I think I do too, my lady."

He halted his steps and turned to you, "I have a question," He said, and you nodded, encouraging him to continue, "Go on. Ask away, Your Highness."

"Even with all these beautiful flowers here, is your favourite still the lotus?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the lotus, a symbol closely tied to memories of your husband. Determined not to show any hint of turmoil, you nodded and answered steadily, "Of course, my prince."

The prince kept his smile intact, "Hmm, I see. Is it solely because the general dedicated a pond full of them to you?"

When you remained silent, he clarified, "What I mean is, if you had the freedom to choose, which flower would truly be your favourite? Instead of accepting what's given to you, I believe you should have the right to make your own choice." It was another subtle suggestion that you should be able to choose your own path, including your life partner, rather than conforming to arrangements made for you.

It appeared that you had grasped the underlying meaning of his words this time. You blinked rapidly as you gathered your thoughts before letting out a chuckle, "Ah, I suppose that hadn't crossed my mind," Shifting the topic, you continued, "Anyway, let us move on from idle chatter. Why don't you enlighten me on the purpose of your surprise visit, Your Highness? With my husband away, I'm unsure if there's anything I can assist you with."

Sensing your slight discomfort, Yeosang decided to get straight to the point, "Right, I'm aware General Park is currently away, bravely fighting for our country. That's precisely why I'm here—I was hoping you would be able to represent him at my upcoming birthday banquet. Her Majesty, the Queen, has also expressed her desire to meet you in person."

Your eyes widened at that, "Sh-she has?"

« Preview of Part 15 »

Feeling like you were left with little choice but to agree, you accepted the prince's invitation to his upcoming birthday banquet, scheduled just a week away.

Since bidding him goodbye, you had confined yourself to Seonghwa's study, burying yourself in your studies. The weight of the upcoming royal event weighed heavily on you. It would mark your debut in royal circles, and facing it without your husband by your side added to your nerves. Could anyone fault you for feeling anxious?

You contemplated seeking help. While Eunsook was supportive, her knowledge of palace affairs was limited. Would Hongjoong or Yunho be able to offer insight? Perhaps Jongho, with his years of service to the general, might have some valuable advice.

A light bulb went off in your head when you remembered San, the King's royal secretary. Surely, he would be the most knowledgeable about the matters you needed help with. However, your enthusiasm waned when you realised you had no means of reaching out to him. Moreover, you doubted he would have time to spare for a little woman like you, given his busy schedule.

Palming your forehead tiredly, you suddenly noticed a shadowy figure loitering suspiciously outside the study. Their silhouette, visible through the paper walls, didn't resemble anyone familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. If it had been one of the estate staff, they usually would have announced themselves.

Jumping to your feet, you instinctively grabbed the inkstone from Seonghwa's desk, preparing to defend yourself. With cautious steps, you approached the entrance where the unknown person lingered, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of you, "Who's there? I know you're not one of my staff. If you do not reveal yourself, I won't hesitate to hurt you!"

Your yelp escaped when the individual abruptly swung the door open in response to your words, "Woah woah, it's just me!" He reassured, causing you to pause with the stone halfway raised as you blinked in recognition, "O-oh, it's you..."

Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he apologised, "I'm sorry for startling you, Lady Park. In case you forgot, my name is Wooyoung. I'm here on the general's orders to assist you should you need anything."

Dun dun dunnn! Wonder what Prince Yeosang has up his sleeves heeheeee anyway, I just wanted to tell y'all that I'm about to have another crazy week ahead. So, like this part, the next one is probably gonna take a while too😭

Also, Happy Lunar New Year to those of you who celebrate it! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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missswritesalot · 28 days

Note

Can I request something with Robb stark x shy reader. She is very quiet and a good wife too rob, but she loves seeing him be a true king to his people so when someone comes along and tries to knock him down a few pegs she speaks up and reminds said person of who they are speaking to leaving Robb speechless and a little turned on. You can end it there or add in a little smut if you want. Thank youuu

A/N requests open! Hope you enjoy, anon! There is just a sprinkle of nsfw at the end, but I tagged it with smut just to be safe ;) i think i used the word shy like a million times. Reblog/Comment if you want more!

You and your husband, Robb, were touring the North and providing supplies to the smallfolk to support them through the Winter. There were many grievances to address and you held court at all the small towns.

You hated the attention, and it was a small mercy that you rarely had to speak. Even when Robb needed your counsel, he asked for it in private so you weren’t embarrassed. The eyes of the people on you were enough to mortify you, yet you bore your discomfort silently and stood by his side.

At one such hearing, Robb ordered the Lords of the lesser Northern houses to visit. You were seated next to him on your throne, Greywind sleeping on the raised floor at your feet.

“The old ways have served the North fruitfully for years. Listen carefully, one war does not make a boy a man and you are yet to know the ways of the world.” Lord Karstark said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Robb.

It was the third time he had questioned your husband in front of his Council. You were furious.

All Robb had suggested was reducing the great burden of supporting lesser houses with tithes from the peasants. Many smallfolks families were missing men and weapons due to the war, and winter was coming. It would be his first Winter as King of the North and he wanted all his subjects to survive, not just the noblemen.

You thought it was admirable. You also knew how hard he worked, spending almost all nights this week pouring over papers and accounts.

“Don’t forget yourself, I am the King,” Robb chided him. Greywind woke up and went to him, a silent threat.

“No man that calls himself King is a true-“ Lord Karstark began in his crotchety old voice. Anger coursed through your veins. How dare this senile old man try to insult your husband.

You cleared your throat. The hall fell silent. Robb frowned and turned to look at you. His wife was a woman of few words but they were all worth hearing.

“My King husband would have no need of repeating his station if you would remember it, my Lord. And if you cannot, then perhaps in the evening of one’s life we must accept our limitations and resign to things we are capable of.” You said calmly, yet sharply. Robb’s jaw dropped in awe.

It took Karstark’s slow mind a moment longer to process.

“Control your tongue, woman,” he said said, eyes wild, pointing to you.

“Disrespect the Queen and you will feel my blade,” Robb yelled, stepping down from the throne and pulling out Ice, just as the direwolf by his side leapt into action.

Karstark did not know when to keep hush. He retorted back sarcastically, and the altercation ended with him being dragged to the dungeons for his impunity. The other lords were also greatly displeased with him, for now they had no chance of changing the King’s mind about restoring their allowances.

You were glad to see the end of the day, and walked into the chambers of your current abode with Robb trailing behind you.

“Lord Karstark demands hot oil for his feet, did you hear it, darling?” Robb said, crushing the piece of correspondence he read. “To send his demands with servants even when imprisoned. The gall of him.” He chuckled.

“I’ve had it up to here with that old bastard,” you said angrily. You let your hair down and started running your fingers through it roughly. The more you thought of it, the more your anger flared.

“How dare he set foot in your court, dine and dwell in our hospitality, and feel entitled to disrespect you like that? I will not stand for it, Robb.” You said, tugging at the lacing and stepping out of your gray court dress.

“Age does not guarantee wisdom, darling. Experience does. And the old fool has none.” Robb said, walking up to you and resting his hands on your shoulders. He pushed your hair to the side and kissed up your neck from your shoulders to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him more access. After a while he turned you around and kissed your mouth. You savored his languid kisses. His hands slowly pushed your chemise over your shoulders till it hung just above your breasts.

You pulled away, and leaned back, his strong arms holding you up.

“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, love” you said shyly. You were bold in your anger but the shyness was starting to creep in now. “I love you, and I cannot bear to see you insulted after you pour your soul into this Kingdom.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were fantastic,” Robb said, apparently unable to keep his lips off of you. You gasped as he nipped at the bottom of your throat. “I would like to see the wolf in my little wife more often.”

You giggled at his words, and he walked you backwards till your calves hit the bed. Your chemise dropped to your hips and his hands made quick work of finding your breasts.

Your hands came up to cover yourself.

“Robb, the candles,” you said, eyes wide. His own blue ones lit up with mirth.

“I know now that you are not shy, let me see what is mine, darling.” He whispered, pushing your chemise to the floor. You stepped out of it, naked as the day you were born. Your skin felt hot under his hungry gaze.

“Lie back, Y/N,” he said, licking his lips and pushing you down on the bed. “I wish to show you some of my appreciation.” He knelt before you with a wink.

Robbs hands found your knees and he spread them apart. Your hands twisted into his auburn hair in surprise.

And there was nothing shy about the sounds you made that night.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark smut #robb stark x reader smut #robb stark prompt #robb stark request #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark imagines #game of thrones reader insert #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fic

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jamespotterismydaddy · 10 months

Text

Traded Posession

Dark!jacaerys x reader

A/N: I definitely did not do this request justice but I also feel like this would have to be a series if I did and I probs should finish a series before I start a new one😭

Pt 2 here

TW: DUBCON, smut, semi public sex, degration, talks of death, size kink

word count: 1,656 words

They call you a witch, all of them. How else would an unremarkable peasant girl get the attention of Aemond Targaryen? You spend your days at his side, bathed in blood as you lick his dagger clean. You��re his perfect accomplice. You like to think that he cares for you, loves you even but in this moment, you realize just how wrong you are.

The Kinslayer has fled King’s Landing and Prince Jacaerys has claimed it. He leaves you behind like a toy that he has tired of.

The next few days are a blur. Cregan Stark’s

men are the ones to find you after your

failed attempts to escape the city. In hindsight, it was silly to think you’d make it to Harrenhall anyhow, make it to your lover. After you are arrested, they promptly throw you into the dungeon, the dungeon where you have been left to rot for the past few days.

This is when you truly realize that he’s not coming for you. He’s. Not. Saving. You. And you were an idiot to think otherwise.

You’re getting close to having been left alone too long with your thoughts when the door to your cell clangs open. Two guards walk in and lift you under each arm, to your feet.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You ask, happy to be taken out of the dungeon but unsure if it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“His Grace has summoned your presence.” The guard on the left says as they drag you to the throne room.

When you arrive, the doors are thrown open and you stumble in, the guards’ pace much quicker than your own. You come to a halt and someone says, “You stand in the presence of the Dragon Prince, Jacaerys, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Protector of the Realm.”

Jacaerys Velaryon stares down at you from the Iron Throne, a cold gaze in his eyes. “Kneel.” He commands and when you don’t immediately obey, your legs are kicked out at the joint and you fall to your knees. He just looks at you for a moment. “You’re much plainer than I had suspected.” He comments offhandedly.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You say with a grimace.

A hand strikes you across the face. “You will use the proper honourifics when you address the prince, whore.” The guard on the right spits out at you.

“There’s no need for that at the moment, Ser.” Jacaerys says and then smirks. “Actually, i’ll have the room cleared.

“Your Grace.” The guards bow and then exit the room dutifully.

“I was truly pleased when we captured you, girl. I had this whole plan to trade you to my traitor of an uncle just to make him watch as I burned you alive instead…” He trails off. It’s almost like he’s telling you a story rather than describing your fate. “It was all going to be proper vengeance for my brother. Though, you’re not nearly as innocent as he was, are you?” The way he speaks is so casual that it could almost unnerve you, if it wasn’t for your experience with one bloodthirsty Targaryen already. “Imagine my surprise when I send a messenger to him and the boy returns, cockless, with a note that says I can keep you.”

You try not to let the hurt show on your face. After all you’ve done for him, Aemond couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die.

“Ahh disappointed, are you? So am I.” He says simply. “I was actually so terribly disappointed that I found that sweet little village you’re from and burnt it down instead.”

The blood drains from your face. “W-What?”

“You were not useful to me so I burnt your fucking village to the ground.”

You don’t feel like the powerful woman you were at Aemond’s side at this point. You don’t even know how you feel. Your silence reflects your shock.

“Is that all you can show your future king, a blank stare? The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how the cyclops was so beguiled. You’re nothing.” He says with a cruel disappointment.

You stare him down, angrily now and you spit on the ground in front of you.

“Are you trying to prove something to me, wench? All I can see is that you are perhaps a bit more reckless than an average peasant. Do you care for your life at all?” He asks, like he thinks you’re stupid.

“Yes, your Grace.” You say, thinking it would be unwise to lie. Spitting at his feet was unwise as well but perhaps pride is your fatal flaw… perhaps.

“Come here.” He says, beckoning you with his fingers. You follow his command, stopping at his feet. He points down. “Kneel.” You feel inclined to disobey, Aemond liked that defiance but this man is harder to read, frightening in a different way.

“I plead your mercy, my prince.” Grovelling usually is the safest bet.

“You really cannot decide how to act, can you? I intend to find your purpose.” He grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. “Let’s start with the most logical.” He unbuckles his belt and you know exactly what he desires.

The prince is well endowed, you know it before he releases himself, but you could not have expected him to be this sizable. He laughs at your reaction. “Judging by the look on your face, Aemond’s cock is small.”

Not small. You think to yourself. But compared to this…

“I don’t doubt that you know what to do. I trust you won’t try anything stupid” He says seriously.

Stupid like biting his cock off.

He’s right though, you do know what to do, taking him in your mouth as much as you can and beginning to suck, you quickly realize Jacaerys is bored. You speed up your movements, just the way Aemond used to like it. The quick pace usually is pleasing to most men… you thought, but the way the prince slumps back in his throne says otherwise. He examines one of the swords next to him in a distant sort of interest and after a few moments, he grips your hair and pulls you off.

“I see now why he didn’t come back for you. You’re like a broken toy.”

You just gaze up at him from under your lashes. “It’s how he liked it.”

Jace scoffs. “What a surprise. You have no technique. I suppose you can learn. I expected you’d be a fully trained pet but oh well.” He brings your head close again. “Go slower this time.” He tells you and you do, taking the head into your mouth and beginning to suckle like a little lamb. “Better.”

You lick up his shaft and then try to take him fully into your mouth again. He never completely fits but you bring your hand up to aide yourself. He guides your movements, pulling on your hair back and forth. You gag almost every time but it would be pretty much impossible not to with how big he is. Though he seems to get off on both, it’s more the motions than your suffering that brings him pleasure.

“Good. Now get up.” He says as he pulls you off again. He stands as well and though he’s not as tall as aemond, he’s still taller than you. “Bend over.”

“Over what, your Grace?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, like you’re more of a nuisance than anything. He then swiftly grabs you by the waist and manhandles you so you’re bent over the iron throne. Though, you make yourself pliable for him.

“You would think that as a prince, I wouldn’t have to do all this work.” He rucks up your skirts and tugs down your smallclothes. He sees your folds glistening with wetness. “Oh gods, you like all this? What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he rubs his hand through it. “Let’s see if it’s enough to truly make a man cunt-struck.” He then slips himself inside of you, so slowly that you think that it makes it hurt more rather than less.

“Ah-ah…” you whimper out once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“I almost didn’t think I’d get it all the way in.” He laughs a little before beginning to thrust lazily. “Maybe this was the only reason he kept you around. It wasn’t enough though, was it? He still abandoned his little whore.” He chuckles and begins to thrust a little harder now. “Nothing to say? You were so confident at the cyclops’s side you seemed to have lots to say then.”

“My prince…” you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thick cock filling you up deliciously.

“Say my name when I fuck you.”

“Mmm, Jacaerys.” You whine out as his hands come to your hips, his thrusts making you unsteady.

“Perhaps I’ll keep you around. Make you my little fuck toy.” His thrusts get quite rough now. He’s angry and taking it out on you. And you could swear that his thrusts are so deep that his cock is in your tummy. You feel his fingertips on your pearl.

“Please, Jacaerys.” You beg him for release.

“Begging now? Gods maybe my stupid fucking uncle just enjoyed how pathetic you are, but you don’t care about him now, do you? You’re my whore now.” His hips keep slamming against yours and his words make you hit your peak, the possession of them enticing you. The way you constrict around him has the young prince hitting his peak as well. He spills his seed deep inside you and then immediately pulls out.

“I’m going to my chambers. I’ll have you bathed and delivered there in an hour.” He says before descending the steps and leaving you there, slumped over the iron throne.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

#hotd #hotd smut #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond

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hadassah4ever · 6 months

Text

lukas matsson x f!reader smut

warnings: decent age gap, reader has no survival instincts for plot convenience, no protection, and the fact that i haven’t written smut in such a long time, i feel like it’s not the best, but 👍👍

word count: 1,430

minors dni pls

The night was frankly, very boring.

Strolling around and seeing the art pieces that made you realize that you might’ve flushed $50,000 down the drain, but at least you got some good complimentary cocktails and horderves.

“You look bored out of your mind.” A man whispered in your ear from behind, almost making you look like a cat jumping away from a cucumber.

“I don’t like this bullshit… ‘cum on a canvas and call it a painting’ stuff either, it’s emotionle—“

“Technically it’s eliciting emotions from you by making you hate it. But maybe that’s just the art school in me.” You shrugged, turning to see a tall, blonde haired blue eyed man.

“Arts school? On daddy’s dime, huh?” He teased. “I wish.” You softly chuckled, shaking your head.

“Hm. Not a rich girl?” He asked. “I would’ve thought you were. Normally poor people don’t throw $50,000 into the trash like that.” He joked. “I have passion! I’m a starving artist!” You replied, softly chuckling and playfully rolled your eyes, not too offended at his teasing. “How’d you get in here? No offence, but I thought that looking at usele— very… meaningful, modern art was a rich person thing?” He asked, seeming genuinely more curious than insulting or gatekeepy, like most of the people here.

“They invited a student with a referral from their professor. And I was referred by my professor.” You answered. “What an insult.” He joked, you tried to shake your head and jokingly roll your eyes to dodge all of the tiny comments that made you slowly realize more and more you should’ve gone to business school, like your cousin.

“You just hate my future profession, don’t you?” You teased back. “Well, it’s the job that makes parents slowly nod and say ‘ahhh…’, so.” He shrugged, a smug smile on his face like he knew you were gonna laugh. “Ugh, I hate how true that is. I just wanna get out of here as soon as possible. It’s not boring, just terrifying.”

“You could get out of here with me.” He quickly replied, realizing he sounded way too eager. “I don’t even know your name.” You replied, coyly smiling. “Is that the only thing stopping you?” He asked. You shrugged. “I’m Lukas Matsson.” He spoke. “Now, do you wanna leave?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully and chuckle at that. He was cornier than he let on.

“You intrigue me. Sure.” You don’t think he’d have the gall to murder you or something after being so chatty in the decency crowded gallery, so what did you really have to lose?

You knew something was up when he rubbed your knee in the car. And the way he kept glancing at your tits. And giving you “fuck me” eyes.

“You’re alright with coming to my apartment right? No pressure.” He spoke, not seeming to just be covering his bases, but actually not putting too much pressure on you. “Sure, what else do I have to lose?” You joked, he softly smirked and told the driver his address.

You should’ve been aware about the fact that he could’ve been rich, but he dressed so casually, and not just the “hello fellow peasants, I am like you” kind of casual the way most rich people dress, but he was in a really nice part of town.

——

“Down for some random wine that people give me?” He asked, going into his wine cabinet, using his fingers to browse through several wines that would probably be a month's worth of rent for you, at the very least. “Gonna wine and dine me before taking me to pound town?” You joked, and as you silently cursed yourself for saying “pound town”, he chuckled.

“No, I’m just gonna wine you.” He answered, catching you off guard but still enjoying the banter. “So pound town is a non negotiable?” You joked. “Nah, we can negotiate that.” You didn’t know if he really cared this much about your consent or if he was just not trying to catch a case, maybe both, but you’d take it anyways. So far, he cared more about your consent than any person you’ve been with beforehand. Maybe you’d need to sign an NDA.

“I mean, if it’s a good journey to pound town, then I agree, but if I’m just gonna be a vessel, no thanks.” You teased, he softly laughed, picking out a bottle of wine and standing up. “I’ll make sure it’s enjoyable then.”

“Then I’m definitely aboard.” You softly chuckled, glancing at the ground and then glancing back up, Mattsson standing right in front of you, immediately leaning forward and kissing you, placing the bottle of wine on the marble counter with a soft clink.

His hands squeezed your ass, his semi-hard cock grazing against you, his hand found his way to your clit, rubbing it in somewhat rough circles, before stopping and his hand diving into your underwear, his slim fingers opening up your folds and feeling around for your slick, satisfied he grumbled a quiet, “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

“Could we move to the sofa?” You softly asked, snapping him out of his own head. “Huh? Oh yeah.” He answered, both of you scrambled to his couch, as you laid down, he placed his head between your thighs, his hands held your hips before his fingers dipped underneath the fabric of your panties, pulling them off your legs.

“You don’t seem like the guy who’s ready to eat a girl out at a moment's notice.” You flirtatiously teased, he paused for a second before breaking the brief silence with, “Not just any girl.” A similarly teasing smile but a slight, genuine look in his eyes.

That really shut you up, as you leaned back down, his mouth softly sucking your clit, his tongue and lips working together, his fingers moved around as he tried to find your entrance, quickly finding it, they dove in. You tried to resist the urge to clamp your thighs around his head, his beard softly scratching you as he ate you out, throwing your head back and moaning, you shut your eyes hard.

He was too damn good at this.

Within a few minutes he had you softly moaning about how you were about to cum, his mouth worked harder and his fingers thrusted in and out of you quicker, having you unravel faster than you ever have, he still worked his mouth and fingers even when your thighs squeezed the sides of his face, having you shaking.

He quickly pulled his head away from your core, the imprint of his cock ready to burst out from his boxer briefs. He slid them off quickly and you were a bit wary, his size was definitely gonna teeter on uncomfortable, and it was probably gonna stretch you a bit, little veins running up it, the pink tip leaking already. He opened your knees up once again and lined himself up with your entrance, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, ‘kay?” He spoke, after you nodded he slowly eased himself inside of you and to your surprise and delight, his size actually worked well fully inside of you.

“It’s good?” He asked, trying to suppress a groan. “Amazing.” You answered, he nodded and started to thrust inside of you, his cock curving upwards and hitting the deep, pleasurable bits inside you, he grunted and moved his fingers to your clit again, his hand resting on your pelvis as his thumb worked in circles, getting into the rhythm of it, he was eventually pounding into you, now using both of his hands to keep himself steady.

It was like a haze surrounded you, gripping onto his couch cushions and arching your back warned him of your impending orgasm, he noticed your inability to just sit still and take his cock, his hands pushed your hips down and continued to nail into you relentlessly, without any further notice, you constricted and finished around him, your breathing became shaky and every limb in your body felt like it was vibrating as he pulled out and came on your stomach, an impressive amount of warm cum hitting just underneath your belly button. His face looked like he just met god and his breathing became shaky as yours started to even out.

“Jesus.” He spoke under his breath. “Hardly anyone has been able to take me like that.” He muttered.

“Might have to pay for your tuition.” He added, in a tone you didn’t know whether or not it was a joke.

Maybe it wasn’t.

——

a/n: lukas definitely has feelings for the reader and i’d be willing to maybe add onto this if enough people want that.

#lukas matsson x reader #lukas mattsson x reader #succession x y/n #succession x you #succession x reader #alexander skarsgard x reader

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hllywdwhre · 1 month

Text

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 8

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

The next morning, Viserea was elated to wake up with her head on Rhaenyra’s chest and Daemon’s arms wrapped firmly around Rhaenyra’s middle. The bliss was cut short as a knock on the door awoke them all.

“Princess, your presence is being requested by the Queen,” they heard.

All of them crawled from Rhaenyra’s bed, as they tried to dress quickly. Before they could finish dressing, the door was shoved open. All three of them still stood topless and Rhaenyra placed herself in front of Viserea and Daemon in front of them both.

Ser Criston, Ser Ryden, and two other members of the Kingsguard stood in the door,

“We’ve been ordered to bring Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra to the throne room immediately,” Ser Criston said, not bothering to hide his disgust from his face.

“And you could not allow your two Princesses to cover themselves before barging in?” Daemon fired back, his body still blocking theirs from view.

None of them bothered to reply or shut the door as they stepped back outside of the room. The three of them pulled their shirts on, all still in the peasants clothes from the night before.

“If this doesn’t go well, make it worth your while,” Viserea whispered in Valyrian to Rhaenyra quickly, referring back to their conversation from the previous day, then kissing her cheek as Rhaenyra nodded.

Once they were dressed, Viserea and Daemon were guided out of the room. Ser Ryden wore an apologetic look as he gently held onto Viserea’s arm. She offered him a small smile and shook her head, silently telling him she did not blame him and knew that he had his orders. Viserea glanced back to see handmaidens entering Rhaenyra’s room, Ser Criston standing beside the door, and Rhaenyra looking after them worriedly.

It was only when the two members of the Kingsguard that each had a hand on Daemon threw him to the ground and Viserea heard a sickening crunch that she finally spoke,

“That is your Prince!” She yelled at them, pulling her arm from Ser Ryden’s gentle grasp and running over to where Daemon was now laying on the floor. She had squatted down next to Daemon to check on him when they both saw Viserys enter from a side door.

“My daughter,” he said, walking up to them as Daemon groaned in pain. His nose was pouring blood and definitely broken and Viserea kept her eyes on Viserys, still squatting beside Daemon, as if ready to throw herself on top of him if she needed to.

“Won’t you two even deny it?” Viserys asked.

Apparently, addressing Viserea along with Daemon was enough to snap Daemon’s attention away from the pain radiating through his nose and the center of his face, as he sat up and made his way to position his body slightly in front of Viserea, squatting as if he wanted to stand up but thought better of it.

“We need to understand the charge before we can attempt to discredit it,” Daemon answered.

“You two defiled her,” Viserys said, landing a kick to Daemon’s side and causing him to fall again as he groaned in pain, “Still you say nothing,”

Viserea glared up at Viserys as he walked around them to stand next to where Daemon’s head was. She sat next to Daemon’s side, one hand placed on the opposite side of him, ready to shield him if Viserys attempted to hurt him again.

“Oh, what does it matter, brother? When we were their age, we fucked our way through most of the brothels on the Street of Silk,” Daemon said dismissively.

Viserea stayed silent as her eyes stayed trained on Viserys.

“We were young men. She is just a girl. Your niece!” Viserys shouted the last sentence and Viserea’s muscles tensed, ready to shield Daemon at the slightest movement from him.

“Rhaenyra’s a woman-grown, the same as Viserea,” Daemon said, “Better their first experiences be with me than some whore.”

Daemon knew Rhaenyra and Viserea had slept with each other years before either of them had reunited with Daemon, but Daemon had chosen his words carefully to ensure that Rhaenyra and Viserea’s relationship was not revealed to Viserys.

“You have ruined her!” Viserys said, going to reach for Daemon’s collar of his shirt, but being met with Viserea’s face even with his as she leaned across Daemon.

The look on her face was one that she had been told multiple times reminded everyone of her father when he was mad. Her usual soft violet eyes were hard and her jaw was set in anger. It was a look that, while Viserea had never seen it on herself or remembered seeing it on her father, was apparently intimidating enough as Viserys made no move to reach for Daemon. Viserea slowly moved away so he could see Damon again after a moment.

“What lord will wed her now? In this condition?” Viserys said, keeping his face level with Viserea’s as he looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Who gives a fuck what some lord thinks?” Daemon spat beneath them, “You are the dragon. Your word is truth and law.”

“I have spent a lifetime defending you,” Viserys said, “But your heart is even blacker than I thought. I should disinherit her and Viserea, as I already did you, and be done with it,” he said, standing up again.

Viserea could have laughed at the irony of his sentence. He didn’t try to find her in the year she spent with Daemon, but referred to her as his daughter when it came to chastising Daemon the previous day. She was only his daughter when it benefited him.

“Wed her to me,” Daemon said before Viserea could voice her thoughts, causing Viserys to drop back down to squatting next to Daemon. “When I offered up my crown, you said I could have anything. I want Rhaenyra, I’ll take her as she is and wed her in the tradition of our house.”

“You are already wed, and make this proposal in front of your very wife,” Viserys said, laughing dryly.

“That didn’t stop Aegon the Conqueror from taking a second wife, and I think you would find my wife okay with this proposal,” Daemon replied.

Viserys drew the blade so quickly that Viserea did not have time to think about what her moves could cause. She moved again to stop Viserys from placing the blade at Daemon’s neck, and instead felt it just barely pierce the skin of her arm as it rested at the front of Daemon’s neck. Daemon’s hands gripped the hand of Viserys’ that held the blade, preventing it from going any deeper into Viserea’s flesh. Viserys either didn’t notice the blood beginning to flow slowly yet steadily from her wound, or he didn’t care as he didn’t move the knife from her arm and her arm didn’t move from in front of Daemon’s neck.

“You are no conqueror. You are a plague… sent to destroy me!” Viserys near shouted at him.

“Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife, and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory,” Daemon said, causing Viserys to pause for a moment before replying.

“Of course. It’s not my daughters you lust for, is it? It’s my throne. You marry them both and the throne is eventually yours,” Viserys replied, as if he had finally figured it all out.

“As if I am your daughter,” Viserea said, cutting off any reply Daemon may have had and causing Viserys to look at her in shock.

“You are my daughter as much as Rhaenyra-“ Viserys tried to argue, but Viserea cut him off.

“We had a very similar argument just a year ago, but I feel it bears repeating. You do not view me as your daughter until it is convenient for you, and you haven’t since I was a child. Your actions show it every day. You don’t arrange proposals for me, and then reject the ones I bring forward because they’re not valuable enough, despite saying it was my choice. You don’t allow Rhaenyra to wed Daemon, because you don’t view Daemon as good enough and think it is only the throne he is after, yet you give us your blessing after we are wed because he is good enough for your spare daughter. If we are married, we are no longer a…” Viserea pretended to need to think of the words he had called Daemon a year ago, “thorn in your side,” she spat.

The same look of anger that she was told resembled her father’s now adorned her face again as she continued on her rant, “Queen Aemma was the only parent I had after my father died when I was three years of age. She was the one who made sure I was treated equally. It became even more obvious after you slaughtered her instead of allowing her the choice of how to die, something I have kept from Rhaenyra for years so that your relationship might not be more strained and she might not be faced with the same nightmares that plagued me for years.

“My opinions were more valued the day I rode Tessarion to the Stepstones than any time I ever tried speaking up in council meetings, even though I am the future Hand of the Queen. The leaders of the Free Cities we visited valued and respected me and my opinions more in the year we spent there than you ever have, and on multiple occasions, heeded my advice and it turned out to be helpful to them. I only hope that you learn to value Rhaenyra’s opinions and Rhaenyra herself, instead of the way you view her now, as she is capable of being the best ruler the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen if only you are smart enough to aid her.”

Silence filled the room once Viserea finished her rant and it took multiple long minutes for Viserys to respond to her.

“Go to Dragonstone, and do not return to King’s Landing. The only reason you two will be permitted to stay on Dragonstone is because of Viserea’s…. Aid in mine and Rhaenyra’s relationship,” Viserys finally replied, removing the blade from where it was still pressing against Viserea’s arm, “As long as the two of you are gone from my sight for good.”

Viserys walked out of the room and Daemon sat up, grabbing Viserea’s arm to view the cut on her arm. The blood from her wound coated her arm, his shirt, and his collarbone from where she had placed it in front of his neck. The blood from his broken nose had stilled, but there were streaks of it across his cheeks.

“Your blade, now!” Daemon looked to Ser Ryden, no room for argument in his voice. No matter if Viserys had just banished them from King’s Landing, Ser Ryden had been around Viserea’s entire life and viewed her as his own family. He quickly came to Viserea’s side, handing Daemon a smaller knife.

Daemon took the knife and carefully cut away a part of the sleeve of the smallfolk clothes Viserea wore. He wrapped it around her forearm, trying to stop the bleeding. Viserea took the knife from Daemon and repeated his actions with his own sleeve, trying to wipe away some of the blood on his cheeks before it dried to them.

He allowed this for only a moment before standing up and helping Viserea to her feet, not risking saying anything in front of the Kingsguard. Ser Ryden was one thing, but the other two members were new and only showed loyalty to Viserys.

“I will show you back to the Princess’ chambers to gather your belongings. I am to assume you will take Caraxes and Tessarion to Dragonstone?” Ser Ryden asked, looking between Daemon and Viserea.

They both nodded and Viserea handed Ser Ryden back his knife, which he put away quickly.

Ser Ryden held a hand up to stop the other two members of the Kingsguard from following them and escorted the two of them back to Viserea’s chambers. Neither were surprised when they entered and didn’t see Rhaenyra, but Viserea let out a small and disappointed sigh.

“We will only be on Dragonstone, zaldrītsos (little dragon). We will see her often. She is Princess of Dragonstone and Viserys can not stop her from visiting,” Daemon pointed out, walking over to Viserea and hugging her closely.

“He will make it as hard as he can. He will load her down in responsibilities he has never before given her and say it is because he wishes to prepare her for the day she will ascend the Iron Throne,” Viserea said, her voice cracking as she spoke and wrapping her arms around him. “Every time I have left Rhaenyra, it has been our decision. Not once have I had to leave without even being able to say goodbye.”

“She knows we would say goodbye if we had the chance, zaldrītsos. I imagine that by the end of the next moon cycle, we will have seen her again. Dragonstone is her home as much as it ours… more so even,” Daemon said in a comforting voice, kissing the top of her head.

Viserea nodded against his chest, knowing he was right, but unable to stop the emotions that washed over her. She had known their plan was far-fetched, but she still had hope that Viserys would’ve allowed it; that he would have seen the sense in it. All three of them would have been married to someone they loved and without argument, Viserea and Daemon would have been able to support Rhaenyra as continued learning how to be a Queen, and those who disagreed with Rhaenyra’s title as Heir to the Iron Throne would not have had a leg to stand on as the three defended her claim.

The thoughts of what could have been drove Viserea to tears for the first three nights she was, once again, away from Rhaenyra. She hadn’t been able to say goodbye, hadn’t been able to remind both Rhaenyra and herself that this was what they had originally planned — for her to wed Laenor and all of them be able to take up their own interests. Part of that was because her and Daemon being banished to Dragonstone hadn’t been part of the plan. They were supposed to be back in King’s Landing, not forced apart by thousands of miles.

Where Viserea was dealing with her pain with sadness and melancholy, Daemon let his fester into anger. He had returned to their chambers every night so far covered in dirt and sweat from sparring with the Knights and Gold Cloaks they had brought to the island with them. He would carry her into the giant stone tub where they would both clean themselves, then keep his arms firmly wrapped around her torso as they slept. She wouldn’t ask him or comment on it, but she could tell that the grip around her was as much to comfort her as it was to assure himself that she would not be stolen away from him, either.

It had been five days since they were banished from King’s Landing and both Daemon and Amarda were relieved when they were finally able to drag Viserea from her’s and Daemon’s chambers. That morning, she had been bathed and dressed, looking like a princess for the first time since they had landed their dragons on the island.

Both of them were in the castle’s vast library when the first letter from Rhaenyra had arrived at Dragonstone. Daemon had taken it from Ser Ryden — Viserea had demanded he was to come to Dragonstone, as he was her assigned member of the Kingsgaurd — before Viserea could, and read it first.

She watched as the look on his face turned from intent, to a proud smile, and then back to fury before he could even begin on the second page. His breathing had grown heavy and he had to place the pages on the table in front of him to keep from crumpling them. He was taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself and Viserea stood up and walked over to him.

“Is it bad?” Viserea asked, placing a hand on his shoulder and watching his face. She couldn’t bring herself to glance at the letter, afraid of what she would see.

“She’s okay,” Daemon replied in a steely tone. He had said it to reassure Viserea without revealing exactly what the letter said. He passed Viserea the first page of Rhaenyra’s letter, which was written in Valyrian to prevent unwanted eyes from reading it. She took it from him gently, staying beside him as he picked up the second page to continue reading.

I heard about what happened in the Throne Room. It shattered me to not be able to bid you both a farewell, but I know it was no fault of your own. That night, my father called for me in his chambers, just the two of us. He told me I was his political headache and that my wedding to Ser Laenor Velaryon would combine the two most powerful houses in the realm, ensuring that no one would dare to stand against us.

He was just as blind to Otto’s selfish wills as we suspected he was. He seemed surprised when I told him that he wanted Aegon named heir. I told him that Otto’s spying on us and his self-interests will bring a divided realm. He told me that everyone on his small council and all past are self-interested. I told him I disagreed. I asked him if he could ever picture Viserea sending spies after my children and never reporting on the many times a child of mine visited the city, but reported of the one time they were caught in a position that could be used to disinherit them.

I told him I would do my duty as heir. I told him I would wed Ser Laenor and produce an heir, but that he must first do his duty as king. He did not argue with me as I suspected he would. He seemed to have realized that I was right, that Otto had been serving himself and not his king for a long time now.

I was not there when Otto was removed from his position, so I am unsure of what was said. The next morning, Lyonel Strong was named Hand.

I was in my chambers reading, long after the sun had set, when Grand Maester Mellos visited me. My father had him brew and bring me Moon Tea in order to rid me of any “unwanted consequences”. I hope you both can forgive me for drinking it instead of throwing it into the fire.

Viserea lowered the page and looked to Daemon, unsure who his anger was towards. Was it for Viserys ordering the tea? Or was it for Rhaenyra drinking it?

“I understand why she drank it, but he had no right to order it be brewed for her,” Daemon said. He had placed the second page of the letter back on the table in front of them and was gripping the back of the chair in anger.

Viserea did not reply, feeling slightly relieved he did not blame Rhaenyra for drinking it and understood why she did. She reached for the second page of the letter, her hand never leaving its spot on his arm.

I fear I have made a permanent enemy of the Queen. She called to question me on if the rumor of our coupling was true. She said we Targaryens have always had queer practices, but that she thought better of Viserea and me. She could not understand how we would be okay with coupling with not only our uncle, but our lady cousin when we were raised as sisters. She did not take kindly to me reminding her of how it was these queer practices that made it possible for the Seven Kingdoms to be united as one.

By the time this letter reaches you, we will be back in King’s Landing. We are currently on Driftmark where my betrothal to Ser Laenor has just been arranged.

Upon my father’s death, I will be crowned Queen. Ser Laenor will be King Consort. Our firstborn child, regardless of gender, will inherit the Iron Throne from me. Our children will carry the last name Velaryon, but when our firstborn ascends the Iron Throne, they will do so in the name Targaryen.

While this was discussed, Ser Laenor and I took a courtship walk along the beach. We have agreed to carry out our duties that are required of us as future Queen and King Consort of the realm, but once our duties are performed, we may both partake in our own activities and interests.

We are to be wed in a week. I do not care what my father said about the two of you remaining on Dragonstone, I want you both to attend my wedding.

A burst of hope bloomed in Viserea’s chest as she finished reading the second page of Rhaenyra’s letter. Though it was not what they all truly wanted, their other plan was working so far. Laenor and Rhaenyra would work together to keep each other's secrets. Daemon and Viserea would at least be able to see Rhaenyra at her wedding, and there would be no way Viserys could keep Rhaenyra from Dragonstone for the rest of his life. Alicent could be dealt with later.

“It seems as though we have no choice but to attend the wedding,” Daemon said, turning the third page he held in his hand to face Viserea.

This page was written in the common tongue so there would be no doubt of what it said.

Prince Daemon Targaryen and his wife Princess Viserea Targaryen are to attend the wedding celebrations of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon. This order is given by Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

Below the command was the date which the celebrations would begin and when they needed to arrive.

Viserea smiled at seeing the command. Only Viserys himself would be able to force them to leave the wedding, and she was unsure if Viserys would be willing to risk turning them away against Rhaenyra’s wishes during her wedding celebrations.

That day Daemon did not seek out his Gold Cloaks or any knights to spar with and Viserea did not find herself weeping in his arms until she fell asleep.

The next day passed in a blur as the two readied themselves to fly to King’s Landing. The next day they departed on dragonback to King’s Landing. While uncomfortable to fly in clothes fit for the wedding celebrations, they knew arriving the day of the start of the celebrations would allow for the least chance of Viserys sending them back to Dragonstone.

Viserea’s dress was black with details of grey and red woven into it. The long, billowing sleeves were the same silver as the seahorse on the Verlaryon sigil. The dress represented the three houses she was loyal to; House Targaryen, Stark, and Velaryon.

Once their dragons had landed, they were escorted to the castle. Amarda had apparently sent word to a member of her family in the city of their impending arrival, as they were joined by a woman who resembled her in their carriage on the ride up to the keep.

She introduced herself as Amarda’s niece and worked at fixing any of the damage the winds of flying had brought to Viserea’s hair. Before she and Daemon stepped out of the carriage, Amarda’s niece spoke to them quickly and quietly,

“While I follow the Faith of the Seven and we do not allow such marriages, I trust my aunt’s judgment and I have heard the kind words she has spoken about your treatment of her. The three of you will always have the support of our house as Princess Rhaenyra ascends the Iron Throne.”

Viserea kept her head high as she and Damon entered the castle, ignoring some of the stares the guards gave them as they clearly internally debated on whether to stop them or not. No one stopped them as they entered the throne room or approached the dais, but they received no announcement.

Though clearly not pleased at their arrival, Viserys motioned for two chairs to be brought forth for them as they bowed to him. Viserea met Rhaenyra’s eyes and could see the mixture of relief and happiness behind them. They took their seats at the end of the table, smiling politely to Viserys as they did so, wanting to give him no reason to send them away.

“She’s not here,” Viserea just barely whispered to Daemon. He gave a slight nod, confirming that he had also noticed Alicent’s absence from the table.

“Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honor the crown’s oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon,” Viserys said to the crowd of people, paying no more attention to Viserea or Daemon. “Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and Hou-“ Viserys stopped mid sentence as he looked to the end of the room.

Viserea followed his gaze and took Daemon’s hand in hers as she realized exactly why Viserys had stopped speaking. There Alicent stood in a dress of blazing green. She clenched his hand tightly as she realized what Alicent was silently saying.

Alicent walked the length of the throne room as the guests rose in respect. Viserea and Daemon both stayed seated. She had silently declared war against Rhaenyra right as Rhaenyra’s wedding celebrations began. Viserea would not show her the respect of standing and Daemon apparently agreed with her.

The show had clearly unsettled Viserys as much as it had Viserea as Viserys asked Ser Lyonel where he was in his speech before continuing.

“With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dragons in Westeros.” Applause and cheering broke out across the room at Viserys’ words and he continued on, “And after tonight’s small affair, seven days of tournament and feasting. At the end of it all, a royal wedding between my daughter, my heir, your future Queen, and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the Heir to Driftmark.”

Applause broke out once again and Viserys took his seat. A moment later and music began.

Rhaenyra and Laenor stood, walking to the open floor in the center of the room and beginning to dance a traditional Valyrian wedding dance with arms spread to mimic the wings of a dragon. Once finished, they bowed to each other and applause broke out again. This time, Daemon and Viserea joined in.

A crowd quickly filled the floor and the music began again, another waltz beginning amongst the guests. Viserea’s eyes scanned the room, noticing Alicent speaking to her uncle, Lord Hobert Hightower, and noticing when Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone approached them.

“In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes. Even Targaryens,” Gerold said, the underlying threat obvious in his tone.

“And who are you?” Daemon asked. He smirked down at the man, clearly finding his threat amusing.

“Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone.”

“And?” Daemon questioned, still sounding amused.

“I am cousin to your late lady wife,” Gerold said with a tone of growing anger.

“Ahh, yes. Terrible thing. I’m positively bereft. Had I heard of her sickness sooner, I would have sent the royal Maesters to attend to her immediately,” Daemon replied in a false tone of sympathy.

“You know better than anyone, your Maesters could not have helped.”

Viserea quirked an eyebrow at his words, mildly taken aback by Gerold’s boldness. Daemon had told Viserea that Rhea’s passing and when she had asked, told her that she had fallen ill. She had been able to tell by his tone and look on his face that it was no illness that she would be able to return from and Viserea had not questioned him further on the matter. He had been by her side the entire time, so no one would be able to make a solid accusation against him.

“Are you confessing some guilt, Ser Gerold?” Daemon asked him.

“I am making an accusation,” he replied angrily.

“You know, in King’s Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you,” Daemon said, quoting Gerold’s earlier words and causing him to scoff.

Viserea did not take kindly to the threat against her husband, even if the accusation was true. She spoke this time, her voice light but still holding an air of mild threat,

“It is a good thing you’ve joined us, Ser Gerold. We have not had the chance to visit the Vale to speak about my husband’s inheritance.”

“What inheritance?” Gerold asked quickly.

“Lady Rhea and Prince Daemon had no heirs. As her husband upon the time of her passing, whatever she was due now passes to the Prince,” Viserea reminded him, smirking as a shocked look fell on his face, “Now I may be wrong as I am not her family nor was I her husband, but she stood to inherit all of Runestone, did she not?”

Daemon gave Viserea’s hand that he still held a slight squeeze as they watched him stutter for a moment.

“After my niece’s wedding, my wife and I plan to fly to the Eyrie, and I plan to position Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I’ll see you there, Ser Gerold,” Daemon threatened.

Ser Gerold stepped away from the table, throwing a backwards glare at the two of them, to which Viserea returned.

“I believe there are some people who wish to speak to you,” Daemon said, pulling Viserea’s attention away from Ser Gerold. He gave a nod to Corlys and Rhaenys and Viserea stood.

“Perhaps you should ask Lady Laena for a dance,” Viserea said to him.

“Of course, Princess,” Daemon said, quickly catching on to Viserea’s meaning.

They both walked over to three remaining Velaryons and Viserea took Laena’s seat when Rhaenys offered it to her after Laena had accepted Daemon’s offer for a dance.

“I was under the impression you were banished,” Corlys said in a teasing tone, smiling at Viserea.

“We received an order from the Princess that we were to attend the wedding and the celebrations,” Viserea replied in the same tone, chuckling.

“I am glad to see you’re excited for the wedding then,” Rhaenys said, pointing the silver sleeves of Viserea’s dress.

“Of course I am. I could not think of a more needed union. One that benefits both our houses and its heirs,” Viserea said. She chose her wording carefully around the two of them, unsure of what they had heard of Rhaenyra, Daemon, and her’s little stunt.

“Are you sure of that, Princess?” Rhaenys questioned, confirming Viserea’s suspicions that she knew every detail of them.

Viserea didn’t immediately respond, instead looking between Corlys and Rhaenys as she judged how best to reply. The look on their faces was just as calculating as her own, and she decided to repeat her answer, only changing the phrasing slightly so that they might understand the meaning behind her words this time.

“I am quite sure, Princess,” Viserea replied, “As I said, this union benefits both of our houses, and its heirs. I feel as though a marriage of this dynamic can only benefit everyone involved.”

It became obvious to Viserea by the look on Corlys’ and Rhaenys’ faces that the true meaning of her words had been made sense of.

“Then we are both glad to have your support of the union, Princess, as you have shown by wearing the color of all the houses you feel loyal to,” Corlys said, a more relaxed smile crossing his face now.

“House Targaryen will always have my loyalty above all, but it is true that House Velaryon and House Stark are my family, as well. They are the houses I am united with through family and friendships alike,” Viserea replied. She watched as more of the anxiety in their faces seemed to fade, though neither of them were given the chance to reply.

“Might I be able to steal my wife away for a dance?” Daemon asked as he approached Viserea, looking to Corlys and Rhaenys with a familiar and friendly smile.

They both motioned to Viserea and Damon turned his attention to her.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” He asked, holding his hand out to her.

“You may, my Prince,” Viserea replied with a smile. She stood up, taking his hand in hers and following him to the dance floor. She spotted Laena and Harwin dancing and the blush that crossed Harwin’s face at something Laena said.

Once they were surrounded by others, Daemon spoke again,

“You look worried, little dragon,” he said, helping Viserea flawlessly fall in step with him.

“She has openly declared war on her,” Viserea said, avoiding names since she knew Daemon would know who she spoke of.

“She has. What do you want to do about it?” He asked her.

The two of them were separated a moment later by the dance, leaving Viserea to ponder his question.

She could think of plenty of things she wanted to do, but she would be no help to Rhaenyra or Daemon if she was dead, and that would only give Alicent’s children a chance of claiming Tessarion. She couldn’t let either of those happen.

Viserea and Daemon made their way back to each other as the dance continued.

“Any ideas?” He asked her, looking down to make eye contact with her.

“Plenty. None with any logic,” Viserea replied.

“And what about Corlys and Rhaenys?”

“Nothing about her move, but it seems they understand just how much this marriage is a union beneficial for both houses.”

Daemon chuckled, but offered no other response. He took her hand and walked to where Rhaenyra and Harwin were now dancing.

“Might I offer you a trade for the moment, Ser Harwin?” Daemon asked, a polite smile on his face as he offered Viserea’s hand to Harwin.

“Of course,” Harwin replied, allowing Rhaenyra’s hand to be taken by Daemon and taking Viserea’s in response.

Viserea stepped in time with Harwin, watching as Daemon guided Rhaenyra to the back of the room.

“I want to apologize for my abrupt departure last year,” Viserea told Harwin, keeping in time with him and the music.

“No need to, Princess. Princess Rhaenyra and I have become quite trusting in one another and she has informed me of the reason for your departure. It sounds as though it was the best thing for you,” Harwin replied with a kind smile on his face.

Viserea returned his smile, grateful for his kind nature and understanding of her circumstances.

“Thank you for your understanding then, Ser Harwin,” Viserea said, her eyes flickering to where Daemon and Rhaenyra stood talking, his hand on the side of her face, causing a rush of worry to go through her.

“Pay them no mind. Both are too smart to make a scene here,” Harwin said, following her line of sight.

Viserea nodded, knowing he was right. She glanced around the rest of the room, spotting Ser Joffrey and Ser Criston speaking; a cheerful look of Joffery’s face and a sour expression on Criston’s.

Harwin followed her stare again, “Now that, I am unsure of. Unless Ser Joffery has misjudged where the Princess’ interests lie. Ser Criston has been cold to her since that morning and it is to my understanding that she was even thinking of replacing him, saying that she didn’t trust him to guard her anymore. They’ve been casting glances at each other all night.”

Viserea nodded, silently taking in the information as Harwin lifted her into the air in time with the music.

A moment later a scream erupted from the crowd, causing both Viserea and Harwin to look around in confusion. She began pushing through the crowd, trying to find Rhaenyra or Daemon and losing Harwin in moments. After a particularly harsh shove, she hit the ground, but stood up quickly and started trying to push her way through. She felt herself lifted in the air and realized it was Daemon who carried her and she relaxed slightly, relaxing a bit more when she saw Harwin carrying Rhaenyra towards the dais.

They were both set down at the same time and the crowd had quieted considerably. Viserea moved to Rhaenyra, Daemon moving right behind her as they stared out at the unmistakable body of Ser Joffery, now bloody and dead on the floor.

Viserea couldn’t pull her eyes away from and it was Daemon stepping in front of her and Rhaenyra that caused her to finally look away. She caught sight of Laenor crawling to Joffery’s body as Criston made his way out of the doors.

“Don’t look,” Daemon said, his hand on each of their shoulders and pulling Viserea to him.

Viserea looked at Rhaenyra, the same horror struck look mirrored on both of their faces.

The crowd was cleared out quickly, along with Ser Joffery’s body, but the sound of Laenor’s wails would haunt Viserea forever.

Viserea went to Rhaenyra, taking her hand in her’s as they both stood shaking next to each other.

“Do you know-?” Viserea started, but stopped as Rhaenyra slowly shook her head.

“I saw them talking-“ Rhaenyra started, but Viserea cut her off, her voice dropping to a lower volume as the room finally emptied from everyone aside from their family and the Velaryons.

“Harwin said he thinks Joffery might have thought he was your interest. He might have accused him and caused him to go into a rage,” Viserea whispered and Rhaenyra nodded.

The doors of the throne room closed and the High Septon stepped forward as Viserys announced to the ones still gathered in the room that he wanted Rhaenyra and Laenor married now and that the rest of the celebrations were canceled due to that night’s events.

“Please, come to me,” Rhaenyra whispered before she walked away, her face now streaked with tears.

Viserea had to force herself not to cry as the High Septon spoke the marriage vows, she saw Laenor’s tears, and heard the way Rhaenyra and Laenor were both crying. Daemon’s arm around her waist helped keep her grounded as the High Septon declared them to now be man and wife.

She did not move when Viserys collapsed to the ground, though neither did Laenor. Daemon did and went to his side immediately. Viserea wasn’t sure how she felt towards Viserys, but even if she had tried to move closer to him, there was no room as everyone else surrounded him.

The maester was there moments later, anyways, and declaring that he needed space and to leave him be.

Daemon returned to Viserea’s side and tried to guide her out of the throne room, but she stopped him. She looked to Rhaenyra and he nodded.

“Might we walk with you back to your chambers? I understand tonight has been… distressing, and I do wish to know you both make it there safely. Daemon can escort us,” Viserea said, her voice oddly calm as she spoke.

Laenor went to reject her offer, but upon seeing the look on Rhaenyra and Viserea’s faces, accepted the offer.

They exited the throne room, seeing the maester helping Viserys stand up. Daemon’s hand rested on Dark Sister as they walked through the corridors of the castle. None of them had a member of the Kingsguard with them, so he truly was making sure they made it to their chambers safely, though no one truly saw a threat making itself known.

They remained silent until they reached Rhaenyra’s chambers and Demon allowed them all inside, then stepped inside behind them. As soon as the door closed behind them, Laenor sat on the edge of Rhaenyra’s bed, now allowing his tears to begin flowing freely once again.

Rhaenyra and Viserea both moved to him and sat on either side of him, Viserea placing a comforting hand on his back as Rhaenyra pulled him into a hug and allowed him to cry onto her shoulder.

No one said anything for a long while, not until Laenor finally looked up and between the three of them.

“Why?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

Rhaenyra, Viserea, and Daemon all exchanged looks and Daemon decided to speak first,

“We think he confronted Criston about being the object of Rhaenyra’s desire and he didn’t take kindly to being accused of breaking his vows he took when he took his place on the Kingsguard.”

“And was he not?” Laenor asked. His voice was harsh but no one reacted to it, understanding he was in pain.

“No… he was neither of the objects of my desire,” Rhaenyra said.

Laenor looked to her, eyebrows furrowed, then Rhaenyra gave a meaningful look at both Viserea and Daemon. Laenor nodded,

“I understand…” his voice trailed off and he looked at his lap. They sat in silence for a moment before Laenor stood up, beginning to pace around the room.

His questions came in rapid succession after that and the three answered as best they could.

Why did Joffery believe Criston was Rhaenyra’s lover?

How long had the relationship between Daemon, Viserea, and Rhaenyra existed?

Why did Criston suddenly hate Rhaenyra?

Once they had answered all of his questions, he sat back down and nodded.

“From now on, we are honest. The four of us are honest about everything that happens between us. No secrets or unvoiced suspicions. I could have prevented Joff-“ Laenor’s voice broke and he took a moment before resuming his sentence, “I could have prevented this if I had known.”

“Do not blame yourself,” Viserea said firmly, looking at Laenor, “Ser Joffery’s accusation should not have cost him his life.”

Laenor nodded, accepting Viserea’s statement.

“We do all promise to be honest with each other, though. About everything,” Rhaenyra said, looking to Viserea who nodded in agreement and then to Daemon.

While he didn’t seem thrilled about it, Daemon nodded and agreed to be honest, also.

Eventually, Daemon and Viserea left Laenor and Rhaenyra to be alone. Even if nothing happened between the two of them, they still had appearances to keep up and it would seem suspicious if the couple did not spend their first night married in the same bed.

“She will have to bear his children, you know,” Viserea said to Daemon as they stepped back into Viserea’s chambers.

“Yes, she will,” Daemon replied, looking to Viserea curiously, wondering where she was going.

“And you feel nothing about her bearing another man’s child?” Viserea asked, unable to deny that she herself felt jealous at the thought of someone besides herself or Daemon touching Rhaenyra.

Daemon chuckled as he realized what Viserea was finally getting at and walked over to her.

“Of course I wish it were my babe that she were bearing, but I feel as though our circumstances are the best they can be.” His hands were on her back, gently beginning to pull the strings holding the corset of her dress in place and causing a rush of excitement to flow through Viserea.

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied, dropping her head to the side when Daemon’s lips connected with her neck. “Do you think Viserys will send us back to Dragonstone now that they are married or that he will allow us to remain in King’s Landing?”

“I think…” he started as his kisses lead up to her mouth, capturing it in a short but passionate kiss, “that my attention tonight is focused solely on my lovely wife and fucking her until my name is the only thing she’s capable of speaking.”

Viserea’s cheeks turned a bright pink and a playful smile crossed over her face.

“Then who am I to deny my Prince’s orders?” Viserea teased, beginning to aid him in removing the rest of her clothes and then his own.

#dreamer queen prince #rhaenyra x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x daemon #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon x you #Rhaenyra x you #daemyra #daemyra x oc #daemyra x reader #daemon targaryen #daemyra fanfic

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sprytesukii · 7 months

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PLEASE PLEASSSEE PLEASE COME BACK TO TUMBLR !!!

ngl this ask, dear sweet anon, helped me make the decision to come back 🤭 i didn’t know anyone was still interested before this ask so ! thank you !!

#[ addressing the peasants : asks ]#[ international super spy : anons ]

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pxnsneverland · 3 months

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Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 8)

(gif source: rcbertleckie)

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 2770

warnings/notes: violence, blood

Chapter 8: The Predator's Dance

That night, the ball was in full swing. The grand hall of Austin's estate was transformed into a spectacle of opulence and light. Crystal chandeliers cascaded from the high ceilings, casting a shimmering glow over the dozens of elegantly dressed attendees who mingled and danced across the polished marble floor. The air was perfumed with the scent of fresh roses and lilacs, meticulously arranged in ornate vases throughout the room.

Violet, escorted by Austin, couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the grandeur of the event. She was clad in a gown of silk and lace that whispered against her skin with every step, its hues of deep violet making her feel part of the aristocratic tapestry around her. Yet, amidst the laughter and music, she caught the occasional glance—curious or calculating—from some of the guests, reminding her that she was an outsider in this glittering world. As they moved through the crowd, Austin's hand rested lightly on the small of her back, a subtle gesture that both comforted and claimed. Violet felt every eye upon them; the weight of scrutiny was palpable. Each smile that was directed their way held an edge, a shadow of something not quite revealed, and she clung to Austin’s presence like a lifeline.

The music swelled, a classical piece that filled the room with its commanding beauty. Austin leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper amidst the din of conversation. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

Violet hesitated for only a moment before nodding. As they stepped onto the dance floor, she found herself drawn into a world where only they existed. Austin’s movements were graceful and sure, his familiarity with the dance evident as he led them effortlessly. The feel of his hand in hers, the firmness of his grip on her waist, it all felt dangerously exhilarating.

As they danced, Violet noticed the way others watched Austin—a mixture of respect and unease that intrigued her. He was clearly a man of power and mystery here, just as he was outside this grand hall. Yet as he danced with her, there was a tenderness and attentiveness that seemed at odds with the formidable figure others saw.

Just as Violet was beginning to lose herself in the rhythm of the dance and the assurance of Austin's embrace, a sudden interruption came. A tall, dark-haired stranger stepped smoothly into their dance circle. With a polite yet firm tone, he addressed Austin, "May I cut in?" His piercing eyes locked onto Violet's with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

Austin's grip tightened momentarily, a slight narrowing of his eyes betraying his reluctance. “Phillip, I didn’t expect you to answer my invitation.”

Phillip's smile was thin, almost predatory as he assessed the situation. "Yet, here I am," he replied smoothly. His gaze shifted back to Violet, taking in her appearance with an appreciative eye that made her skin crawl slightly. "It would be a shame not to take the opportunity to dance with such a charming guest."

Violet felt Austin's reluctance through his tightening hold, sensing the tension that surged between the two men. It was clear there was a history there, one fraught with as much competitiveness as careful politeness. But Austin’s voice retained its composure as he responded, his hands still firmly holding Violet. “There are plenty of women here probably more eager to keep you company this evening.”

Phillip chuckled, his gaze never wavering from Violet's. "Perhaps, but I find myself particularly intrigued by—I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Violet Everly,” she greeted her gaze moving between Austin and Phillip.

Phillip, despite Austin still holding onto Violet, took her hand and kiss it. His lips lingered almost as if he was savoring something. “Phillip Mormont. A pleasure.”

Violet’s heart raced at the contact, unease curling in her stomach. The touch was far too intimate, too knowing. She withdrew her hand as politely as she could, instinctively moving closer to Austin.

Austin’s voice was a low growl, audible only to Violet and Phillip. “She’s under my protection, Mormont.” It was a clear warning, one that seemed to amuse Phillip even more.

“Oh, come now, Butler,” Phillip replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We’re all civilized here, aren’t we? I merely wish to share a dance with the lady.”

Violet looked up at Austin, seeking reassurance in his icy blue gaze. There was a storm there, barely held at bay. He nodded slightly, granting permission but never releasing her completely. Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be led away by Phillip into the swirling throng of dancers.

Phillip was an excellent dancer, his movements smooth and assured. Yet there was an underlying tension that Violet couldn’t ignore. His hand on her waist held her a little too tightly, his smile a little too sharp. “You are quite the mystery, Miss Everly,” he murmured as they moved across the floor. “A delicate flower among thorns.”

Violet managed a polite smile, though her mind raced with anxiety. “And you, Mr. Mormont, seem quite at home among those thorns.”

Phillip chuckled darkly. “One must adapt to survive in environments such as these.” His eyes scanned the room, never truly focusing on her. “Tell me, what is your impression of our host? He’s quite a character, isn’t he?”

Violet glanced briefly towards where Austin stood, his gaze fixed on them, an unspoken intensity in his eyes. She chose her words carefully, aware that every phrase might be analyzed for deeper meaning. “Lord Butler is... complex.”

Phillip’s eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and something darker. “Ah, very diplomatically put, Miss Everly. Austin has many layers indeed. Some darker than others.” His tone suggested a deeper knowledge of Austin’s secrets, hinting at shared histories Violet could only guess at.

As the dance continued, Violet felt increasingly uneasy. Phillip’s presence was commanding, yet there was a coldness to him that made her long for the safety of Austin’s arms. His casual references to darkness and hidden depths seemed like veiled threats or perhaps clues meant to unset him.

Finally, the music began to slow, the song reaching its end. Violet had never felt more relieved to see a dance conclude. Phillip seized the opportunity as the last notes lingered in the air. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper against the music's fading echo. "Miss Everly, might I steal you away for a moment? There's something on the balcony I believe you would find most intriguing."

Violet hesitated, her eyes instinctively seeking Austin in the crowd. The intensity of his gaze had not waned; if anything, it sharpened, slicing through the sea of bodies that separated them. Despite Phillip's charming smile, a shiver traced the length of her spine. She knew she ought to decline, to return to Austin's side where an unspoken promise of safety lay. However, curiosity and a reckless streak of defiance nudged her forward.

"Very well, Mr. Mormont," she replied, her voice steady though her heart was not. "But only for a moment."

Phillip's smile widened as he offered his arm, which she took with reluctant grace. As they navigated through the throng of revelers, Violet felt every pair of eyes on them—judging, calculating. The cool night air brushed against her skin as Phillip guided her through an ornate set of French doors onto the secluded balcony.

The balcony itself was draped in shadows and moonlight, overlooking an expanse of restless gardens where shadows danced between the whispering trees. The air was fragrant with late blooms of jasmine and a hint of something darker, like earth freshly turned.

Phillip leaned against the balustrade, his eyes capturing the moonlight and reflecting it like some predatory nocturnal creature. He watched her closely, a smirk playing on his lips as he traced the line of her jaw with his gaze. "This view is one of my favorites. The way the moonlight plays with the darkness, it's almost as if the night whispers secrets just for us," he murmured, his voice smooth and enticing.

Violet felt an uneasy tremor in her heart at his words. His proximity was unsettling, and she was acutely aware of how isolated they were on this shadow-draped balcony. Despite the beauty of the scene before her, Violet couldn’t shake off the feeling of being a bird lured into a snare.

Phillip turned to face her fully, stepping closer than social decorum would dictate. "You know, Miss Everly," he began, his voice low and beguiling, "there is much about Austin Butler that remains shrouded in mystery. Even someone as close as I am can never be too sure where his allegiances lie."

Violet’s breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by his forwardness and the underlying threat in his tone. Her instincts screamed that Phillip was playing a dangerous game—one that involved her as an unwitting pawn between two powerful adversaries.

"And where do your allegiances lie, Mr. Mormont?" Violet asked, trying to mask her unease with a tone of casual inquiry.

"Oh, my dear," Phillip chuckled lightly, his eyes glinting with unspoken knowledge. "My allegiances are flexible and often align with... shall we say, the most intriguing opportunities. Just as I find you, Miss Everly, exceedingly intriguing." His gaze bore into her with an intensity that belied his casual words.

Violet felt the chill of unease snake down her spine as Phillip's presence loomed closer. She was acutely aware of how removed they were from the safety and watchful eyes inside the ballroom. The glint in Phillip's eyes turned sharper, like that of a hawk eyeing its prey, his interest palpable and unsettling. Violet could feel each word he uttered woven with dark threads meant to ensnare her thoughts and fears. She struggled internally, her desire to flee clashing with her growing curiosity about Austin and the dark web she found herself caught within.

Phillip moved a step closer, eliminating any remnant space that might have suggested propriety. His hand brushed against hers, an accidental touch that sent a jolt through her body. "You see, Violet," he said softly, using her first name in a manner too intimate for their acquaintance. His fingers encircled her wrist moving it up to his lips. He sniffed deeply, his mouth watering slightly. “Austin holds so much restraint. Restraint many of us don’t have.”

Violet tried to pull away, but his grip as like iron. “Release me, Mr. Mormont.”

Her voice trembled with a mixture of fear and defiance, but Phillip only smiled—a chilling expression that didn't reach the coldness in his eyes. "Oh, I think not, Violet. Not until I have discovered just what it is about you that so captivates Lord Butler."

With a swift movement, Phillip spun her so her back was against the stone railing, her escape routes effectively blocked by his imposing figure. The moon above bathed the scene in an eerie silver light, casting long, dark shadows across the balcony that seemed to dance like specters in the corner of Violet's eye.

"I believe it’s time you and I had a more... profound connection," Phillip whispered, his breath caressing her cheek as he leaned closer. Violet's heart pounded in her chest, each beat resonating with an urgent plea to flee. Yet physically overwhelmed and emotionally outmatched, she found herself paralyzed under his mesmerizing gaze.

His fingers tightened around her wrist, his other hand gently but firmly holding her chin, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze. "Shh," he hushed, as if comforting a child, though his eyes gleamed with predatory anticipation.

With a sudden pang of horror, Violet felt the sharp prick of Phillip’s teeth against her wrist. The pain was sharp and immediate, and she gasped out loud—a desperate sound muffled by the night air. His lips locked around the bite, drinking deeply in slow, deliberate pulls that made Violet’s head spin. The world tilted on its axis; the edges of her vision grew dim as an icy chill spread through her veins.

Phillip continued to drink greedily, lost in the pleasure of the moment, his grip unyielding. Violet's struggles weakened as her energy waned, her thoughts becoming foggy and disjointed. The faint sound of footsteps echoed from behind them. Phillip pulled his mouth away from Violet, his lips smeared with crimson, his expression one of annoyance. He reluctantly released Violet, who collapsed against the railing.

Phillip straightened up, wiping his mouth nonchalantly with the back of his hand as he faced Austin. "Ah, Butler," he said coolly, his tone mocking. "Your timing is impeccable as always."

Austin's eyes blazed with a fury that seemed to ignite the very air around him, his tall, imposing figure framed against the moonlit sky like some avenging angel descended into hell. His voice, when he spoke, was calm but carried a dangerous undercurrent, "Mormont, I would advise you to choose your next actions very carefully."

Phillip turned fully, examining Austin with the casual disdain of a man who believed himself untouchable. He smirked, his dark eyes flickering between Violet and Austin. "Oh? And what would you suggest I do, Lord Butler?”

"Your quarrel is with me," Austin said icily. "Leave her out of this.”

Phillip laughed softly, a sound devoid of any true mirth. "Always the protector, aren't you, Austin? But tell me, do you protect her out of affection or are you merely guarding your possession?" Austin's jaw tightened visibly at the provocation making Phillip’s smile grow wider. “Tell me, Austin. Have you tasted her yet? She’s quite delicious. Don’t you want just one little bite?”

Austin’s eyes darted to Violet who’s wrist was still bleeding. He licked his dry lips, his hunger urging him to finish off where Phillip started. But the fear in Violet’s eyes fortified his restraint. “Take your leave, Mormont.”

Phillip's laughter echoed off the stone walls of the balcony, a chilling sound that mingled with the whispering wind. "You dictate terms as if you command the night itself," he taunted, stepping back with a theatrical bow that dripped with sarcasm. "But remember, there are things even you cannot control, Lord Butler."

As he straightened, his gaze lingered on Violet, who was trying to regain her composure, her hand pressed against the wound on her wrist. Phillip's eyes glinted dangerously. "We shall see how long your noble intentions last in this game." With those parting words, he turned and vanished into the shadows from whence he came, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Austin moved quickly to Violet's side, his expression a mixture of concern and latent rage. He took her injured wrist gently in his hands, examining the bite marks with a furrowed brow. “Come, I shall tend to that—”

“What are you?” Violet demanded. She kept her distance from him pressing her back to the wall as if she could meld through it.

Austin paused, his blue eyes searching her face for signs of fear and anger. He sighed, a weight seemingly lifted yet immediately replaced by another, heavier burden. “I am what I must be,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Much like Phillip, but not by choice—by necessity.”

Violet's heart hammered in her chest as she absorbed his words. The world she knew seemed to crumble around her, yet there was a strange sense of revelation in understanding the enigma that was Austin Butler. “You’re a vampire,” she stated, not as a question but as an acknowledgment of the truth she had already known deep down.

Austin did not flinch at the word. Instead, he nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Yes,” he admitted, and it seemed with that single word, the distance between them lessened, if only just slightly. “I have fought against this nature all my life, striving to retain the humanity within me.”

Violet felt a chill run down her spine, not from fear but from the cold truth of her situation. She was in the presence of monsters dressed in human skins, creatures of the night that fed on the living. “Don’t touch me!” She scrambled to her feet keeping a tight grip on her bleeding wrist with her other hand.

“Violet…” Austin rose slowly keeping his distance as she requested no matter how much it pained him to see her so afraid of him.

“No! No, no! You stay away from me!” She dashed back into the manor pushing through the crowd of people at the ball. She ran up the grand staircase to her room slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure.

Stay tuned for part 9!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me @imusicaddict

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neeweekeewee · 3 months

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I genuinely think people like the IDEA of Stolitz more than what it actually is…

Think about it! Most of these people make their own interpretation of the ship than actually following what canon is depicting. Because of this, they will defend it immensely because of what they’ve made up about it rather than face the reality.

I have been guilty of this too! For example, I love Seddie (Sam and Freddie from Icarly) but I only like my interpretation of it, NOT how it is executed in canon (for SO many reasons…mostly being Dan Schneider is a shitty writer and person). I love the idea of them but they are absolutely horrible together in the show, even the actors hated them together 🥲

I think the whole idea of Peasant X Royal is admiring and I can understand why people like it, but in the case of Stolitz, it’s very different. Blitzo was in a Quid Pro Quo relationship with Stolas, no matter how much people try to frame it, the bottom line is: it’s rape. Every scene where Stolas tries to stick it to Blitzo sounds like manipulation or gaslighting because the bottom line is, the only thing Blitzo did to Stolas was not love him back. I saw a good question someone posed in this tag asking: “What did Blitzo even do wrong to Stolas? He doesn’t even address it in his latest song, the audience is left with the very vague reasoning as to what ‘Blitzo did wrong’”. And I totally agree!

Every time they try to make Blitzo ask for “forgiveness” from Stolas in some form, it sounds like a victim who’s suffering from Stockholm Syndrome… people will disagree with me but my statement is that victims are not all same and abuse can come in SO many different forms. Thats why it’s hard for victims to leave, because their minds are being played with and an abuser is not always being terrible all of the time (at least in most cases).

Every single scene involving these two involve them being angry at each other or being angsty.

Almost every single scene with these two involve Blitzo being angry with Stolas, uncomfortable by him, or being scared of him. Nobody can argue with me on that because it’s LITERALLY in the show.

This relationship was doomed from the start (Murder Family, literally episode 1!!). And Viv is trying to back peddle as much as she can to make it seem like it’s not as rapey as it seems.

When you love a ship, you’ll do anything you can to make it seem like it isn’t that bad, I can totally understand that. I feel like the best way to get past this is to accept that it is inherently unhealthy and make your own interpretation and express that to your followers, or make AUs, Rewrites, etc.

#helluva boss critical #anti stolitz #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop critical #anti stolas #helluva boss critique #stolitz critical #anti vivziepop

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greycaelum · 10 months

Note

I loved the interview with Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, my precious babies, and this time I would like to start again but in a parallel universe with the Grand Duke and the future Grand Duchess. Please note that as an aspiring journalist, I have a lot of questions. I grab my notebook and pen, let's go!

Forgive me in advance during this interview, I may lack tact and go straight to the point.

Firstly, how are Your Graces doing? Forgive me for my peasant vocabulary, as I am not part of the nobility (and furthermore, I do not speak English properly, the difficulties are piling up), but I will do my best!

The common people would like to learn more about the two of you. You make such a lovely couple (yes, I am flattering you because I love both of you). How did you fall in love? Was it love at first sight? Both of you at the same time?

By the way, if you had to define your love, what would it be? Here are some examples, but there are many others: True love, Love at first sight, Girls Fall first and boys fall hard, Soulmates, Right person right time, Sun and moon, First love, Pure love, Enemies to lovers, Friends to lovers, etc.

When will Madame officially become the Grand Duchess? Your Grace, can't you surpass the codes? And if not, why?

Furthermore, how did your relationship become official in high society despite not being engaged?

Please, enlighten us. Your Grace holds the highest title after the royal family, and I understood that you have as much influence as the Emperor himself. So how should people address you? Maybe I am not very clear, but basically, how should they call you in public and in private? And for you, Madame? Since you are not yet married, you do not have a title, if I am not mistaken? Or do you still have a temporary title before becoming the Grand Duchess? (us peasants want to know…)

By the way, did it pose any problems not being born "noble" and "vampire"? High society people can be so uptight! Love is not up for discussion, regardless of origin, skin color, race, or social status! Madame, did you have any troubles? Tell me their names, and I'll write a scandalous article about these brutes!

Madame was a human before your encounter, but how did you become a vampire? Does a bite suffice? Can anyone become a vampire? And can all vampires transform humans, or only pure-blooded ones like Monsieur?

Before your encounter with Madame, did you drink human blood, or did you manage to live all those years without drinking blood thanks to your family genes?

Are there other pure-blooded families among the vampires?

If I understood correctly, the world you live in is a mix of several races, which is beautiful in terms of coexistence, but in your kingdom, are there only vampires or also humans? Is the Emperor a vampire or a human?

Is there a hierarchy among vampires? Which one?

Why are there hunters on your territory? (it's suicidal or someting) Do vampires have to live hidden?

Madame, a personal question for you, have you never wondered about your origins? You are divinely beautiful and unique, even in a vampire society small laugh Is it something that intrigues you? Also, you don't ask yourself any questions about your family? And you, Monsieur, do you not have any questions? (Regardless, you are very well-suited!)

You're not married, but have you already consummated the non-marriage? Was it your first time? Madam, you seem so pure! And Sir, you seem so...so...just. I know it, we know it, you know it, they know it, you are attractive people. (I am risking my life for my article) We want answers.

Now, a little genetic question, the Gojo family is a pure-blooded family, and by marrying Madame, there will potentially be an heir with hybrid blood. Could this imply new things for the Gojo family? Does the power in vampires reside in their blood?

I know Mr. Gojo will not be happy with what I am about to say, but… I can't wait for you to get married, have children, and especially a daughter… diabolical laughter Yes, you understood! A love story with the dark-eyed crown prince and the little blue-eyed Gojo princess EHEHEHEHEHE!

One last question, this one concerns Madame. It has been noticed that among vampires, you are… weaker than the norm? For example, you have smaller fangs than other vampires (that's too cute). My question is: is it because you were human before? Or is it something unique and inexplicable? I'm sorry for these questions that may seem silly to you, but I'm not really well-informed about vampires. As you may have noticed, I'm just… a little fairy (just a Winx for today ahah).

I leave here alive and with plenty of information, thank you for everything! Invite me to the wedding, and I will write a great article! It will sell like hotcakes. Take care.

Cursedtales Collections—La Luna Chapters: { Scribble }

—Vampire Duke Gojo Satoru X Vampire Reader

❦︎ Précis:

You chuckled remembering how you made him agree. Some spilled wine on the carpet, soft gasps, and ripped his tunic while the rough wall pressed ever so flatly on your back with his hand pinning your wrist as his fangs buried themselves in the sweet concave of your enticing neck. "I can hear what you're thinking, Kitten," Satoru growled ever so lowly warning you with the mind link flashing the debauchery you trapped him with just to make him agree.

❦︎ Genre: vampire, fantasy, royalty

❦︎ WC/CW/TW: (4.2k)/ Grand Duke and his subtle love languages, an overview of vampire tradition and culture, suggestive hints at the end

❦︎ A/N: Thank you for the 3k guys, I'm so happy to have you all in this small corner 😭, with my tightest hugs and head pats, bear with me til I finally get that holiday vacation and we'll celebrate~ ✒️☕ a huge hug to the person who sent this, it was fun exploring LaLuna's culture and tradition because of your ask~

Yuta informed you a day ago that a columnist from the imperial court is coming. Along with it is an envelope sealed with the Emperor's stamp.

Reading through the parchment, you sighed and found yourself in a position.

"His Imperial Highness must have a lot of time on his hands to start gossiping about his nephew..." You reread the parchment to confirm you're not misinterpreting things.

Dear Future Niece-in-Law,

I am writing to inform you that I let the high society know of my approval of your presence in my rascal nephew's life. Hence, I will send a columnist to Albastru to write a column for you in my imperial gazette for the next week. Drag my nephew and strap him on the chair if you have to.

It was stamped not just with any official seal but the Emperor's imperial seal.

Did his daughter steal the imperial seal and send this prank?

Unfortunately, Yuta informed you the Emperor himself directly sent the messenger, and the supposed meeting will be in a day or two. That leaves you almost slim to no chance of convincing Satoru in this little charade the Emperor has put on your shoulders.

"I didn't expect you'd agree so easily, Your Grace. What gives?" You cleared your throat as Satoru walked beside you with your hands entwined in his. He insisted that the two of you wear the same blue and white coordinated dress. If you're a little more shameless today, you would poke fun at him that he's more excited than you are. Yet you refrained from doing so... He might change his mind and not do the interview.

Satoru's face remained stoic as he looked ahead to the drawing room.

Bashful...

You chuckled remembering how you made him agree.

Some spilled wine on the carpet, soft gasps, and ripped his tunic while the rough wall pressed ever so flatly on your back with his hand pinning your wrist as his fangs buried themselves in the sweet concave of your enticing neck.

"I can hear what you're thinking, Kitten," Satoru growled ever so lowly warning you with the mind link flashing the debauchery you trapped him with just to make him agree.

"What? I'm not doing anything, Your Grace." You couldn't hold back the chuckle as his jaw twitched, clearly holding back.

"Behave before I drag you into that vacant room and forego this audience you've worked hard to secure from me." Your eyes wandered to the nearest room where his eyes landed and raised a brow at you. Perhaps that is indeed enough teasing for now...

He opened the door for you, and inside, the columnist was waiting with a bright smile. You exchanged some pleasantries. Of course, Satoru only answered with a few grunts and nods. Yuta came in with a tray of snacks and tea.

You both sat across the columnist and started the meeting.

"Forgive me in advance during this interview, I may lack tact and go straight to the point."

Firstly, how are Your Graces doing? Forgive me for my peasant vocabulary, as I am not part of the nobility but I will do my best!

"We're doing fine, thank you for coming. I know how far the Imperial Capital is to Albastru." You smiled. "I hope you didn't have a hard time during your travel."

"You want chamomile tea?" Satoru ignored the journalist and carefully set your ornate oriental cup of tea and a plate of your favorite sweets in front of you.

You looked at him for a few seconds before sighing, reminding him of the guest, but the Grand Duke simply shrugged and motioned for the columnist to continue. He almost growled as you fixed a plate of sweets for the columnist but since you knew him well already it doesn't take much thought to fix him a plateful of candied orange to appease his territorial stance.

No one wants a grumpy Grand Duke, more so a jealous one. It seems like the journalist already knew of your mate's territorial behavior and easily waved it off professionally and started the interview.

The common people would like to learn more about the two of you. You make such a lovely couple. How did you fall in love? Was it love at first sight? Both of you at the same time?

It was such a straightforward question you had to blink for a few seconds to register the notion.

His Grace, however, simply crossed his legs and sipped on his cup of tea. The frown earlier disappeared, replaced by a lopsided smirk, showing off his pointy canines.

"I recognized who she is to me the second I saw her..." Satoru vaguely answered.

Of course... Vampires and their innate ability to recognize their mates... Unlike you who was still a mortal at that time, clueless and in shambles after your near-death experience.

"I think... it's a gradual process. For me, it was never love at first sight." You shake your head. "We went on a slow but steady process, His Grace has been very gentle and attentive in educating me about the difference between humans and vampires, somehow along the way I just knew we wanted each other in our lives." You beamed.

"My only one." Satoru curtly answered. He added a few more Turkish delights to your plate.

"We are already mates... so our souls are tied together." You thought to yourself finding the right word. "I guess, he's my fate that I never thought I would find."

His Grace looked at you, and despite his stoic face, the monocle shielding his eyes wasn't compelling enough to hide how his cerulean eyes turned fifty shades of dark blue from your words. Satoru silently turned his attention back to his tea, but his shoulders were visibly much more relaxed than earlier and you could see the corner of his lips turn up.

When will Madame officially become the Grand Duchess? Your Grace, can't you surpass the codes? And if not, why?

"Soon enough." His Grace answered this time. "Even the Emperor does not have the power to force the rule of succession after the death of a family member as the succession is not a matter of royal title or power but a rite of passage. Every noble family has a sacred tree where a rvet *(1/8 gram) of ash from every family member is stored inside from the time he is born. The sacred tree knows when a family member dies and will not accept any ashes within the three-year mourning period thus, no rite of passage into the family shall occur during that three years."

Furthermore, how did your relationship become official in high society despite not being engaged?

With this question, His Grace smirked, flashing his dangerous sharp fangs, and loosened the cuffs of his sleeves, revealing a vivid mate mark of a black butterfly looming over a red lotus.

"Who else can dare mark me?"

Who would? Heads would roll down to the ground before anyone could sink their fangs into his body. Unless it's someone he permits to do so... And that someone could only be you.

"His Grace and I are already with our mate marks... Weddings aren't necessarily required in vampire culture although they may seem right to be celebrated ostentatiously, however it's not mandatory. But as long as we both have marked each other that is already enough to profess to whom we belong." You smiled and peeled your sleeve on your shoulder to reveal three blue roses adorning your shoulderblade... The blue roses symbolize how unattainable the Grand Duke is, but he found his place in you. The blue rose has finally found his garden to bloom in.

"I would give you the grandest wedding this empire has ever seen." The Grand Duke frowned. His fingers found your smallest finger and toyed with it. Soon his family heirloom will adorn your fourth finger. What makes you think he will spare any fortune to lavish you with everything you deserve? "Although the wait may take a little longer, I assure you our wedding won't lack anything." He stared into your eyes with certainty.

You squeezed his hand, reminding him that you were in the journalist's presence and it wasn't the time for such bold words... But knowing the Grand Duke, he remained unfazed and kept playing with your finger... Kissing them to assure you.

Sapphires... Sapphires would look breathtaking on you. He thought at the back of his mind, making sure you wouldn't hear his aspirations for you through the mind link.

"Oh! I was also confused when I first arrived here." You huffed. "But to adequately address him in public, especially in the Imperial Court, is His Imperial Highness, Grand Duke Satoru Gojo of Albastru. In private matters, you may call him Your Highness or His Grace, Grand Duke Satoru. His Grace is not specific with titles, so don't worry about angering him if you mistake his title." You smiled.

"I am specific with titles..." The Grand Duke frowned. "I am making an exception only for you." He made sure to punctuate those words.

You shake your head and chuckle.

"To help you understand his title, His Grace descended from the House of Gojo, which is his Father's family. The Gojo lineage holds the highest military position in the Empire passed down to the generation, thus the title of the Grand Duke, and their territory is the Grand Duchy of Albastru. His Grace is titled 'His Imperial Highness' instead of 'His Royal Highness' with the reason that he pretends the rite of succession for the imperial throne because of his Mother's family which is the reigning imperial family of Parsua Amara. Simply put, aside from his official title as the grand duke, he is also a prince second to the throne after his cousin the Crown Princess because His Grace's late Mother was the Imperial Princess of the empire and the late sister of the Emperor. I hope I made it easier to understand."

His Grace chuckled and ever so gently patted your hair. His eyes gazed at you as you enthusiastically discussed the matter.

"I see you listened to your Social Studies tutor quite well." His Grace smirked. "As for My Mate, she's currently Lady Y/n, Viscountess of Louiebell. Since she is not my Grand Duchess yet, it is only right for her to receive a customary title until her rite of passage into my family's sacred tree comes." He held a proud smile for her as he spoke to the journalist about her achievements. "You should visit Louiebell one of these days. It has grown quite well over the months, and they have the best fabrics and gardens in the whole Albastru." Satoru boasted to the journalist with full praise for your work.

"Please don't." You chuckled. "It is not much of a trouble than I thought. Although I am a turned vampire, the high society holds the significance of who turned who into a vampire. I am considered a part of His Grace since he is the one who made me a vampire, and any disrespect directed to a turned one is considered disrespect to the one who turned him or her."

You thought for a moment.

"The biggest trouble I perhaps had was a tea party where everyone refused to speak until I left... Aside from that, no one has seriously caused me any harm besides the usual jabs. Rest assured, I am now happy with the friends I found in Albastru."

His Grace held your hand and didn't speak any further, but judging from the darkness swirling in his cold eyes as you relive those days, you better change the topic before his patience wore thin and dug into his grudges.

Madame was a human before your encounter, but how did you become a vampire? Does a bite suffice? Can anyone become a vampire? And can all vampires transform humans or only pure-blooded ones like Monsieur?

"You can become a vampire if you willingly submit to be one. No, a bite cannot suffice. Aside from biting, the vampire needs to feed his or her blood into the person he or she is turning until the person wakes up from quiescence. Not everyone can become a vampire. And not all vampires can turn humans into one... And you are almost but not quite correct about the pure-blooded ones." You nodded... Satoru can explain it better than you.

"There are three factors to turn someone into a vampire. If any of these three weren't met, the process would fail and might kill the human instead. First, the human must be willing, and the willingness is not borne out of fear or coercion but a deep-seated desire on the human's part. Second, the human must have experienced a close-to-death experience... This is entirely subjective and a dangerous condition to meet since only fate can tell... Third and last, the vampire must have a strong will to fight the urge of bloodlust. Ordinary vampires do not have sufficient immunity against bloodlust and might end up sucking the human dry of their blood. This is "a general but not all" scenario. Pure-blooded vampires have more resilience but are also not entirely immune to bloodlust. Thus, turning a human into a vampire is an uncertain process. You must have the willingness of a human, the approval of fate, and the resilience of a vampire against our primal instinct. Life and death is not guaranteed."

Before your encounter with Madame, did you drink human blood, or did you manage to live all those years without drinking blood thanks to your family genes?

"I drink human blood. No vampire has not drunk human blood, trust me." His Grace shook his head. "I stopped drinking human blood in my adolescence. For me, the second best taste of blood is from the moose."

"You do like hunting those when we hunt." You chuckled at his appetite for the said animal. "The longest he hasn't taken in blood was probably three months. His Grace ate human food with me when I was still human. Though it may not be the same as drinking blood, he seems to like the rare steak until now. The longest I can go without blood is two weeks. For him, it could stretch for three months. He's more resistant to bloodlust because he's a pure-blood, but when he drinks... he drinks so plenty."

Satoru chuckled at the remark.

"You do the same too, My Lady. Don't blame me that your blood is simply too sweet to resist." He smirked knowingly.

Are there other pure-blooded families among the vampires?

"Of course, there are many other pure-blooded families... But the major ones seated in the Imperial Courts are the House of Gojo, the House of Zen'in, and the House of Kamo. These three are the leading houses in terms of military and economics."

If I understood correctly, the world you live in is a mix of several races, which is beautiful in terms of coexistence, but in your kingdom, are there only vampires or humans? Is the Emperor a vampire or a human?

You smiled. You have to thank Satoru for teaching you history.

"There are seven races, represented by seven high towers with their respective thrones. There are the Deities; they reside in Soladrina, it's an island that cannot be seen unless you're invited. The Witches; are considered daughters of the gods and goddesses. Next is the Lycan, which occupies the South of the Continent which is the Kingdom of Finis Lua. Then the Vampires residing in the North which is the Empire of Parsua Amara. We have the Elves, they're elusive and hard to find. Then there are the Monsters, they are everywhere with no definite habitat. And finally the Humans, you can find them in the Eastern Continent. But of course, there are other races also living in Parsua Amara."

"My Uncle is a vampire. Though I doubt his senile fangs still work." His Grace smirked earning him a kick under the table and a glare from his beloved.

Is there a hierarchy among vampires? Which one?

"We have an Imperial Hierarchy."

Why are there hunters on your territory? (it's suicidal or something) Do vampires have to live hidden?

"The hunters... are rogues of the Lycan race who cross the de facto border. Based on the treaty seven years ago after the great war, vampires and lycans are not allowed to cross the borders. Though there are sometimes mishaps, those crossing the borders are immediately sentenced to death without mercy or deportation." Satoru supported his face with his hand. "Albastru lies between Parsua Amara and Finis Lua, thus, it is my job to guard the borders from any invasion against the enemies."

"Unfortunately I don't have memory of my past. All I remember is living in the snowy mountains until His Grace found me after I was attacked by wolves and was left to die. I don't know what happened before that and I am not compelled to find out about it. I am very much happy and satisfied with my life right now. Although I don't have much memory of the past, I would rather focus on the present I have and the future I will make. This is that fate I choose for myself and I wouldn't have it the other way. Whatever is bound to unfold will unfold by itself." You smiled with firmness etched on your gaze and words.

Your cheeks burst with blush and despite your self-control, you held on to your mate's bicep for strength. Isn't this too revealing for a column that anyone in the empire can read?!

Satoru on the other hand seemed unfazed and merely raised a brow at the question. His arm snaked at the back of your waist and pat your hips in assurance.

"She's my mate... We own each other. I think that's clear enough to answer your question." He smirked. The sharp fang was enough to halt further delving questions on the topic.

"Marriage is not a necessary custom in the vampires... Instead, they are more inclined to the mating bond and marks... They honor it devotedly. His Grace and I are mates so... I don't see anything wrong with it." You shyly answered, Satoru squeezed your hand calming you down.

You looked at Satoru quite confused by the question...

"I don't think so... I am a vampire... Why would there be a hybrid child?"

"A hybrid child can only happen if the parents are from different races. Although my Mate was once human, she is now a vampire. We're both vampires and there will be no possibilities of a hybrid child when both parents are the same race." His Grace answered for you, clearing your confusion and doubt.

His Grace's eyes turned to you.

"Besides, it doesn't matter. As long as you're the mother I would love our child unconditionally."

You chuckled and looked away to hide the smile stretching uncontrollably over your lips.

I know Mr. Gojo will not be happy with what I am about to say, but... I can't wait for you to get married, have children, and especially a daughter... diabolical laughter Yes, you understood! A love story with the dark-eyed crown prince and the little blue-eyed Gojo princess EHEHEHEHEHE!

"No. Some stupid dark-eyed prince will not easily snag my daughter away unless he passes through my sword." His Grace's eyes turned dark as he spoke the ominous words with an unamused sinister smile.

"Calm down Your Grace, the journalist is merely jesting you." You reminded him, shaping him out of the urge to kill any crown prince who dares to touch his potential little daughter.

One last question, this one concerns Madame. It has been noticed that among vampires, you are... weaker than the norm? For example, you have smaller fangs than other vampires (that's too cute). My question is: is it because you were human before? Or is it something unique and inexplicable? I'm sorry for these questions that may seem silly to you, but I'm not really well-informed about vampires. As you may have noticed, I'm just... a little fairy (just a Winx for today ahah).

His Grace crossed his arms and a dark expression covered his smirking face. His Grace's face was as dark as a monster and an irk mark formed on his temples. A cold air filled the room, you could almost feel winter solstice with the blizzard gust in the room from your mate's display of annoyance. However, a thin layer of spell protected you from the cold, keeping you perfectly fine while His Grace is being moody.

"My mate is weak? Who said that?! Who told you about my Mate's fangs? Who? I will slice him to pieces. Who dares to stare at my mate's fangs too long to notice that detail? Is it a male? Does he dare to stare at my mate that long? I will pull his fangs mysel—"

Fortunately, you were quick to hold your mate back and drag him to sit on the couch.

"My apologies about my dear beloved. He's a little moody after the tea." You chuckled awkwardly. "Most probably that's a factor and my gift as a vampire has not yet manifested. You could say that as a vampire I'm still in my pre-teen stage so some areas of my vampire senses and attributes are still developing."

After the little bravado from the irritated and possessive Grand Duke, it doesn't come as a surprise that the journalist is quick to reach the door and escape if worse comes to worse...

I leave here alive and with plenty of information, thank you for everything! Invite me to the wedding, and I will write a great article! It will sell like hotcakes. Take care.

"Oh! Take care... Feel free to come and have tea with me..." You softly said since the journalist already fled away from Satoru. You turned your back to face your mate with a frown.

"Well that was uncalle—mhmph!"

Soft lips aggressively captured yours effectively shutting any words of reprimand.

"S-Sator—ngh!" You gasped as he kissed you deeper, his tongue finding your little fangs and tracing them sensually, stroking them as he moaned from the friction.

"I'm hungry..." He groans between your kisses, wildly pulling on the lace of your corset to free your soft bosom from its confines and trail down neck kisses, sucking on your skin every so hardly and sweetly making sure he leaves a pinkish love bite on your skin.

"We just had tea and biscuits..." You bit your lips when he easily carried you to the nearest couch and laid you there. His hand brought one of your thighs up, pressing kisses from your ankles down to your inner legs where he bared his pointy fangs against your milky flesh.

"I forgot how cute your fangs are... care to show me?"

—GreyCaelum,

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out more on La Luna Chapters and the Masterlist

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).

General & Cursedtales Collection Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @saoney @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @rizzmin @emichou-chan

161 notes · View notes

shegatsby · 11 months

Note

Could I ask for Hannibal lecter with a former patient reader with extreme anxiety and fear of going outside and people? Maybe a house call for this little recluse?

(Would appreciate if they were also FTM but not a requirement)

Thanks!

-B

A/N; Hi B, thanks for the request even though it had been weeks since you sent it to me... oops. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy!

Warnings; Anxiety and panic attack, reader has phobia of going outside.

You were triggered again, you had a specific nightmare last night. In the nightmare you were being chased by your stalker (you had a stalker last year so developed a certain anxiety about going out. Thankfully he is behind bars now.) in the nightmare he was holding a gun and chasing you in the public but no one helped you. Except him. Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Due to your circumstance you sought professional help. You did a profound research about him and his techniques and you found nothing but good review. You decided to give it a shot and you didn’t regret it at all. You explained your situation to him in detail via email, he replied saying that he was glad to work with such an open minded and communicative young woman.

He urged you to go to his office for the first session but you were unwilling so you suggested to do it online, it was 45 minutes and when you were, put the laptop away… you felt a sudden relief.

The next session he suggested to go to a coffee shop near your home, you liked the idea and agreed.

It was a cold Baltimore weather so you both had gloves, long coats, he couldn’t help but notice how professional you dressed. A black pencil skirt, a dark red blouse, soft make-up, hair let loose yet kept under control and delicate hands holding your coffee mug. You were well mannered and put together. Also, your impression on him was the same as him, both of you had a mutual feeling for each other that day. Normally, Dr. Lecter had 45 minute sessions with his patients just like your first session. However, with you, it was more than 2 hours. The conversation was elite and brilliant that he didn’t want to leave that cozy place, after the session he gave you a lift and planned the next session.

Weeks passed and you started to go to his office, you had an idea about his environment but seeing it for the first time was something else. His office was like a mixture of library and museum, which both of those places were your favorite. When he saw the inquisitive shine in your eyes he let you explore.

You talked about your favorite books and art and culture etc.

You loved talking to him and he loved talking to you. Most of his patients were shallow and stupid but you knew your art and literature. After decades of being surrounded by peasants Hannibal found someone who got excited about small things and had her own brilliant opinions. Your energy was refreshing to say the least.

The nightmare you had made you paranoid, your door was locked, windows shot and curtains closed, you were in your pjs and in 45 minutes you had to be in Dr. Lecter’s office. It was impossible, you sent him an email about bot being able to make it today. Instead of replying by an email he called you directly, ‘’Hello, Dr. Lecter.’’

‘’Hello , Y/N.’’ he started, he had started to address you by your name few weeks ago and asked you to do the same but his demeanor and the way he held himself made you a bit intimidated. ‘’I hope you are well.’’ He continued, ‘’Is there a problem?’’ there was a silence. ‘’Yes, I don’t think I can come today.’’ You simply replied, covering yourself with blankets on your couch, total darkness surrounding you.

‘’Your voice sounds strange.’’ He announced, you didn’t say anything and he let a sigh of distress, He ‘’I’m coming over. Do not move.’’ And he hung up.

He knew your address, something in you kept you at your place or maybe it was his strict tone.

Some time later there was a knock on your door which made you jump from your seat, you grabbed a knife from the kitchen and walked to the door.

‘’Its me.’’ You heard his voice, ‘’You can lower your weapon of choice.’’ He added, how did he know that you were carrying a weapon?

You opened the door to him, he looked at you up and down and let himself in, closed the door and locked it. Seeing such a young and elegant woman being torn apart by her mental state made him feel something… he felt as if he was her savior.

You noticed that the second you saw him you felt safe, like a sense of warmness spreading inside of your chest.

You turned to go to the living room, he followed, this was the first time he saw your house, he was in awe of how clean and organized it was even though it was dark due to the fact that all the curtains were closed.

He sat on a single armchair, placed his leather bag next to his feet, his coat placed on his lap, you took your place among your blankets.

‘’May I ask what has made you… like this?’’ he looked around the room, ‘’I don’t want to talk about it.’’ You said like a little child.

‘’Are you hungry?’’ he asked to change the subject, you realized that you didn’t eat anything since you have woken up. He understood from your deep eyes and stood up.

Soon you heard sounds coming from the kitchen. You decided to get a sneak peek, he wore your red apron and cooking something from the things he found in your fridge. It melt your heart.

Hannibal Lecter wasn’t used to this but when he saw you like that he couldn’t help but be there for you, you were an interesting case for him and he even thought about keeping your mental health not worse but not good either so that he could keep having you in his life but it seemed like you were planning to be in his life for a long time weather as a friend, a patient or someone close..

Thank you. :)

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seiya-starsniper · 7 months

Note

For Fluffy February 15 Dreamling

SOMEHOW, I managed to finish this before February ending 🤣🤣

Enjoy the shamless fluff anon!

Fluffbruary Prompt List || AO3 Link Here

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“Oh! Let’s look at this stall, Hob!”

Morpheus looks up from his crafting table and is met with the sight of a couple in their early thirties approaching his shop. Or rather, the woman is dragging her partner towards his shop. Morpheus thinks he recognizes her, a thought that is later confirmed as he slowly recognizes the various pieces of her outfit from other vendors on the fairgrounds. She’s adorned in one of Lucienne’s gorgeous handmade corsets, and Morpheus is pretty certain her peasant blouse and skirt are from Matthew and Jessamy’s pirate themed shop. The flower crown expertly woven into her bright blonde hair confirms that the woman is definitely a dedicated attendee. One with plenty of money to spend.

Her partner though, he’s wearing a rented costume so Morpheus thinks it’s probably his first time here. She did call him Hob though. How period accurate for the Renaissance Faire.

“Good morrow my friends,” Morpheus greets them, falling easily into his shopkeeper persona. “How may I assist the Lord and Lady today?” The woman giggles at being addressed as a lady.

“I’ve heard,” she stage-whispers, holding her hand up to her cheek, “that you are the best jeweler in all the lands, good sir.” Her face is full of delight as she says this, and Morpheus cannot help but play along.

“I dare say you have heard the truth m’lady,” Morpheus answers with his own conspiratorial smile. “Shall I show you my collection of wares?” he asks, gesturing to the glass display case just underneath his hands. The woman squeals in delight.

“Oh Hob, they’re so beautiful!” she croons as she dips her head to look at the jewelry displayed inside. She points at a few items she’s interested in, some necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, but decidedly foregoes the rings. Interesting.

“Did you hand make all of these yourself?” the woman asks as she and Hob try on a matching set of Celtic knot necklaces.

“Aye, milady,” Morpheus answers. “We can also customize any piece, and also resize, if needed,” he adds.

“Pretty handy,” the man, Hob, says, finally joining the conversation. He smiles at Morpheus, who feels his face grow warm at the compliment.

Though he hadn’t paid attention to the man as much as the woman when they’d first entered the shop, upon closer inspection, Morpheus realizes that Hob is quite attractive. He was maybe an inch or two taller than Morpheus, with broad shoulders and muscled thighs that were clearly on display in his rented Faire outfit. His chin-length brown hair framed a kind face with thick brows and a full mouth that looked like it had been built for laughing.

And oh, that smile. Hob smiled with his entire face, creasing his brows, eyes, cheeks, and mouth all at once as he appreciates the look of Morpheus’s work around his neck in the mirror. It makes Morpheus’s fingers itch. He wants to dress this man in the finest jewelry he could craft. He wants that smile, that radiance, that warmth, to be directed at Morpheus instead of the woman he’d come here with, even though she’d done nothing to deserve such a fate. But Morpheus has never been looked at the way Hob looks at his girlfriend. He’s rather certain he hasn’t seen many men look at any of their partners that way. It tugs at Morpheus’s freshly broken heart, and he has to force himself to refocus his attention on her instead of her partner, who seemed to have his own gravitational pull.

They eventually leave with the matching necklaces, and the woman, Eleanor, signs up for his mailing list, promising to buy more jewelry on his website. Morpheus believes her too. In addition to the necklaces, she’d bought a set of earrings and bracelets for herself, insisting that Hob not pay for her purchase. Her independence makes Morpheus smile, despite his jealousy. He wonders if next year, he might convince them to upgrade to the engagement, or even the wedding bands.

Morpheus forgets all about the couple by the end of the day, but he feels a sense of melancholy and longing that he cannot quite explain as he packs up his shop for the night. He wonders if maybe he should take up Matthew and Jessamy’s offer for drinks tonight. If only to break out of his monotonous routine.

It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting at home for him anymore, after all.

Morpheus doesn’t recognize Hob at first when the man wanders into his shop a year later with a rowdy group of friends. They’re all clearly drunk, and Morpheus is curious as to what about his shop could have possibly caught this group’s eye.

But then he sees the Celtic knot hanging from Hob’s neck, resting on a very hairy chest, and recognition dawns on Morpheus.

“I’d recognize that pendant and chain anywhere,” Morpheus greets with a smile, which causes a rowdy set of encouraging shouts and playful ribbing to erupt from the group.

“You do, do you?” Hob asks, his words only a little bit slurred as he smiles at Morpheus, a tankard of what smells like mead and beer in his hand.

“I do,” Morpheus answers with his own smile. “But it seems to be missing its partner. Tell me, where is the Lady this lovely afternoon?”

Morpheus knows immediately he’s asked the wrong thing when Hob’s face falls.

“Oy mate, don’t bring up the man’s ex like that!” one of Hob’s friends scolds Morpheus, which makes Morpheus wince. A small chorus of boos erupts from the group as well.

“Ignore them,” Hob says, waving at his friends to shut up. “They mean well but I walked in here wearing one half of a set, it only makes sense you’d ask.”

“Still,” Morpheus insists. “I’m sorry about—er—” Morpheus is horrified to realize he has completely forgotten the woman’s name.

“Hah!” Hob laughs, clearly amused rather than offended. “Her name was Eleanor. I’m Hob by the way.”

“I know,” Morpheus says, then winces again.

“Do you, now?” Hob asks, with a cheeky grin. He places his tankard of unknown alcohol on Morpheus’s display case and then leans on it. “You remember my name, but not Eleanor’s?”

“She called you by name multiple times, and Hob isn’t exactly the most common of names used when taking on a Faire persona,” Morpheus says, hoping that his explanation doesn’t sound nearly half as creepy as he feels.

“I know, that’s why I picked it,” Hob grins. “I do use it outside of here too, you know.”

“You do not,” Morpheus replies, aghast. What man in his right mind would willingly go by the name Hob and risk endless jokes on doorknobs and stoves?

“I do,” Hob says with a wink before he bows dramatically. “Professor Hob Gadling of the Medieval Studies Department of XX University, at your service, my good sir.”

“Oy Hobsie, stop showing off!” one of Hob’s friends calls from a different part of the shop. Morpheus hadn’t even noticed they’d dispersed to look around, he had been so entranced by Hob’s reappearance.

“Yeah, are you buying anything? You’re the one that wanted to come here!”

“Ah, is the good sir looking for something new?” Morpheus asks, slipping back into character, and hoping to hide his embarrassment. “Mayhaps something to help ease a broken heart?”

“Something like that,” Hob answers, sheepishly, his fingers fiddling with his right ear. Morpheus tries to show how entranced he is by the motion. “Listen I was wondering if—uh—well, you know—if there was time—”

“He wants to know if you’re single and ready to mingle!” one of Hob’s friends shouts, followed by a loud chorus of agreement. “And if you’re into men!” another one adds.

“What the flying fuck Davey!” Hob turns and shouts at his friends, who all laugh and raise their glasses to a toast.

“Get your man Hobsie, so we can keep getting drunk!”

Hob groans and hides his face in his hands, muttering something about ‘worst wingmen ever’ and Morpheus cannot help it. He bursts into laughter, and has to clutch at the cash register behind him for support.

“I don’t suppose we can forget this whole thing ever happened?” Hob asks, once Morpheus has caught his breath. His face is red with embarrassment, and Morpheus wonders if the man blushes so prettily on other parts of his body as well.

“I’m afraid not,” Morpheus answers, shaking his head solemnly. “But my evening is available after the Faire closes tonight,” he adds with a wry smile.

Hob’s entire body perks up immediately. “Seriously? You’re interested?”

“As long as you intend for us to be alone,” Morpheus answers, his eyes falling to Hob’s posse behind him.

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Hob exclaims, nodding eagerly. Morpheus cannot help but smile as Hob’s friends continue to tease him while they exchange contact information and make plans to meet outside the Faire grounds later. He even manages to make a few sales from the group. Morpheus wishes Hob could stay longer and that they could talk more, but the post-lunch crowd that spills into the shop dashes those plans for now.

Hob doesn’t miss an opportunity to show off again though. He takes Morpheus’s hand and kisses it, bowing deeply, and causing the rest of the shop to coo and cheer at the romantic display.

“I shall miss you dearly, beloved, until we next meet again,” Hob declares loudly as he exits the shop with his friends.

“You’re seeing him tonight you dingbat!” Morpheus hears one of his friends laugh.

After the post-lunch crowd leaves, Morpheus sits at his crafting table, looking over his in-progress projects, and wonders if custom jewelry is a bit too much for a first date. Hob had worn the Celtic knot necklace though, and it was clear he needed a replacement.

Rubies, Morpheus decides. Hob would look good in rubies. Morpheus readjusts the setup of his table and gets to work, mentally counting down the minutes until he’d be able to see Hob’s smiling face again.

#dreamling #hob x dream #morpheus x hob #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling

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