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ewanmitchelll · 3 months

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Imagine you can fix him. No, really, you can.

Warnings: drama, angst and (explicit) smut; long post; some canon divergence…

***

You’ve been raised at court as part of Princess Helaena’s retinue. Due to your noble status, this isn’t different any other lady of your station might’ve expected.

You have grown close to the princess, and the two of you are very good friends—more like sisters, truthfully. Due to your similar nature, both of you found yourselves reading, sewing and dancing when possible.

But as you grew, you eventually found another companion to spend your time at court with. The second wayward son of King Viserys, Lord Aemond.

Here’s how all it began…

***

• (I) Broken infancy.

Right after the mess where the Queen confronted her stepdaughter about what had happened between Rhaenyra’s offspring and Aemond, you opt to go after him.

It’s dark. It’s late and you should be elsewhere, but you pay little mind to these rules. You find Aemond outdoors, sitting in the stairs as if he’s contemplating quietly the price paid for losing an eye.

You think you hear a sniff, but you’re not sure. You wait until silence is absolute before making yourself announced.

“L-Lord Prince.”

Aemond turns abruptly, completely out of guard. He hates the vulnerability, but before he can come out with a snark response, you step forward and say:

“I do not mean to intrude. But… may I offer you company?”

The boy looks at you with distrust.

“What are your business here, Lady Y/LN? You should be with my sister.”

“I was worried about you…”

“I don’t need your pity”, and saying so he spits out.

“You don’t”, you agree calmly even if you’re shaken inside. “But everyone needs a friend.”

There is a small pause where you anxiously wait for him to give you some space. Eventually he does since there’s no one around.

“Well. Helaena doesn’t like many people, but here you are, the only one she actually spends time with”, mumbles Aemond.

You smile before taking a seat by his side.

“It appears so.”

Neither of you speak for a while. You know Aemond is still getting used to your company, so you speak nothing.

“I’m sorry”, you tell him.

The prince casts a look at this y/c haired lady of the house y/c dressed in the manner of the Hightower. Despite the remaining distrust in his eyes, you know he reads you.

What a process to forge a bond, and yet here you are.

“For what? You did nothing wrong.”

“No. But I lament for the loss you went through.”

“Well…”, and here he inclines his head towards the great shadow flying over the dark skies. “It was worth the dragon I reclaimed.”

“Like every Targaryen before you.”

Something about you said seems to knock his defenses down. However this isn’t something Aemond is prepared to admit. Yet.

***

• (II) Darkness & Light.

Aemond keeps an eye on you as much as you keep an eye on him. You’ve grown to a handsome woman, wearing gowns that reinforce your curves even though nothing in your actions deem other than innocence.

You and Helaena are almost twins. Could be so had you been birthed by Queen Alicent. Perhaps this is why Aegon looks down on you as much as he does to his sister-wife.

But the wayward, gloomy Prince, who at times opts to find his path towards his… whore, cannot divert away of you.

In fact, he is rather surprised to see you gravitating towards him just as he leaves the room.

“Y/N”, Aemond whispers your name, hands behind his back, not turning his head to welcome you… and because he hopes you don’t spot a slight, timid smirk that forms on his lips due to your presence.

“My dear Aem. Going to practice with Ser Criston again?”

You purposely link your arm to his, nudging his side playfully to tease him the way you know he doesn’t like.

But the prince can’t get rid of you, can he?

“Like always.”

“May I watch it?”

“If you want to.”

Aemond knows silence is not your best trait, something that he, in fact, appreciates.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been out of my sight again”, you muse, eyeing him closely.

He avoids your gaze, aware of what you talk about. But why does he feel a hint of shame knock his pride?

“Hum”, it’s all he says.

You sigh heavily. By how you breathe heavily, Aemond knows you are about to lose your temper.

“Don’t “hum” at me, Aemond Targaryen. You’ve been whoring again, haven’t you?”

To your surprise, he stops abruptly, turning at you in such a way that makes you blush. Aemond reads you, him too baffled when discovering you might actually have feelings for him.

How else would you feel so possessive towards me, Y/Nickname?

Today, your hair is tied in two perfectly braids. They are long enough to fall over your waist, Aemond notices. Your eyes are livid, he can tell the amount of repressed feelings that are behind the colour that paints them—and he is intrigued to know what these are.

You are chewing your bottom lip, a sign of nervousness—he never took you for an insecure person.

Are you afraid of losing me?

And then there’s something about the gown, green like always, that makes him want to rip it. He can tell your breasts are tied… and he wants to release the pressure this gown is making on them. Suddenly, comes to his mind a scene where he is sucking your nipples, rubbing one with his thumb all the whilst using his tongue to play with the other.

Perhaps you’d like that, Y/N. To be treated well. Perhaps you’d be a better replacement than my whore.

Indecent thoughts that he cannot sweep off his mind, but that his mind plays a good effort to it because you are a good precious damsel who doesn’t serve to be part of his dark, sinful self.

And yet… what he sees in you is the light that blinds him. Another sight he cannot lose. So he does what’s best of him to do: push people away.

“How does this concern you, Lady Y/N? You’ve been a good friend, but you are nothing more to me.”

Words that shouldn’t have come out this way. But they do. When seeing the hurt in your eyes, Aemond knows the weight of his lies. Suddenly, he realizes he wishes he could be saved.

And you, as his savior, have been pushed away.

“I am not quitting on you”, you wear your prideful mask, which intrigues him. “Still going to watch your practice though. Besides, I was only asking… because of your mother.”

Aemond cannot amend the awkwardness, but his mind screams at him for not bothering in doing so.

“I know.”

So he turns his back on you. And to his consternation, you stay.

Whilst Aemond practices with his sword, you shut yourself in your world. Your eyes are carefully down whenever a courtier passes by—you detest to get the male attention, not when you wish for more on Aemond’s part.

But you little foolish thing, he doesn’t want you. The prince sees you as a friend, is all. An extension of Helaena.

You struggle with your tears as this thought occurs you, but perhaps this isn’t so bad, is it? Duty often sacrifices sentiments. Perhaps you should tell your sister, Queen to be, that you are ready to marry and then… stay away of him for good.

But the courage in this decision soon dissipates the moment you raise your eyes and find Aemond staring at you.

And you know you’ve been trapped.

***

• (III) Scars.

You are about to slip under your blankets when the door of your bedchambers are abruptly opened. You are frightened when hearing the sound due to your exposed state: your line nightgown poorly covers your nipples and you still have no time to throw robes to cover yourself when he stands before you.

Distressed, anguished. In who he really is. In one broken state you’ve only seen once.

You forget yourself when you run to hold Aemond Targaryen in your arms.

“My love”, you whisper, letting him sob. “My prince”.

You pull him to yourself, the only one Aemond trusts with his being. The only one he knows he can be himself, with his scars and open vices. He clings onto you, he digs his fingers onto your waist, letting him be guided to your bed before burying his head against your belly.

You can only imagine what had struck him like this. A feast of demons over his head, each fighting for his flesh. And yet you are here, battling against them.

When he finally stops sobbing, he looks up at him. You’ve never seen him so fragile, so famine for affection. And here you are. Providing what he needs.

“Tell me all”, you whisper.

“I do not want to. You’ll find a monster in me”, and yet he holds onto your hips, fearful you’d let go of him.

“You are not a monster, Aemond. You may have some vices, but you are a human being like anyone else”, you tell him gently. “Come here.”

Aemond obeys you, sitting in front of you.

“Let me tend you”, you whisper. “I’ll prepare your bath.”

“Y/Nickname…”, he holds your wrist firmly.

“I won’t leave you. I won’t abandon you”, you assure him. “Do you trust in me?”

Aemond nods his head.

“My boy, then let me bath you. Besides”, and here you dress your best smile. “You smell like old dragon.”

Finally something that pulls out a smile of him. As he sits there, you are quick to fetch servants to prepare him a good bath. When you go back at him, Aemond gives you that intense look which gives you shivers.

And wets you in between your legs too.

But this isn’t the moment nor the time.

“Come. It’s ready.”

You lean against the wall of the privy quarters as Aemond starts to undress. Even though he is damaged for what he’s done, he likes to feel the weight of your gaze on him. And he smirks when he stands nude before you.

“I don’t think you’ve seen me like this”, he muses.

You don’t look away when he says so. Aemond feels a heat growing inside him.

“No, I don’t. Not physically anyway”, you point out.

“Don’t look away”, he asks.

You dare to scan his body with your discreet gaze, eyeing his well build muscles, attentive to his scars and… his manhood, which is now erected. And quickly you look away, blushing, as he chuckles.

“You’ve never seen one up before, my lady?”, he asks, sliding into the tub.

You gently knee behind him and get to rub his back with a sponge.

“Do not take me to your whore, Aemond”, you snap at him.

The prince smiles at it. He lets you clean him before he dives into the water. When coming back to the surface, the prince is disappointed for not seeing you there.

A moment later, though, when he’s dressed in clean clothes, says Aemond with a subtle accusation tone:

“You left me there for one moment…”

“You surely can handle yourself as you finished you bath. I am only your friend, wasn’t that what you called me?”

Aemond sighs.

“Y/Nickname, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He comes at you and rests his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder. When you side look at him, you spot that old fragility rarely seen.

It’s what melts you down.

“Very well. Come here. Let me tend you”, and now back to your bed, you and him lace your fingers together, his head in between your breasts. “What did you do, Aemond?”

You stroke his hair with your loose hand, aware that he’d done something bad. But where others see him ruthless, you see a broken boy trying to find his worth in this misadjusted world.

“I…”, his embargoed voice has your attention.

“Yes?”, you lift his chin, now cupping his face; removing his eyepatch, you gently force him to look at you.

And here comes a tear.

“I killed him. But I didn’t mean to.”

“Who?”

But you know the answer.

“…Lucerys.”

Old wounds that never close… bleed endlessly. You sigh heavily, but rest your forehead against his.

“You shouldn’t have done that, my dear”, you speak softly.

“I understand.”

“But I won’t abandon you, you know that, do you?”, you hope to transmit him that, regardless of this sinful secret he shared with you, together you two are stronger.

“You are the only one who knows my weakness”, he buries his head against your neck, needy of you, weak and feeble. Fragile. “Do not dare to leave me.”

“You have always been sacred to me to be profaned now, Aemond”, you whisper.

He leans his body close to yours, transfixed by your irradiating beauty… and your unending loyalty.

The prince touches your face and you tilt your head, letting his slander fingers brush over your face and then going down to your neck. You partly wish that he goes below… a perception he sees evident in your eyes.

Aemond knows he’s as vulnerable as you. And yet his hand moves to your collarbone, unlacing your nightgown.

“So beautiful. You look as if I can be redeemed.”

“You can”, you lean closer, not minding how purposely your breasts slip out of the line. Your eyes remain locked with his all the whilst you take his face with your hands. “You can be redeemed.”

Aemond waits no further: his dragon fire awakes and he is about to burn you. You welcome his hungry lips thus, sighing in content as he crawls over your body, ripping impatiently your gown, promptly reclaiming you the same way he did Vhagar.

You subdue easily to him, letting him have his way to you. That his lips make his kiss ache every part of you gets a moan out of you, which in turn makes Aemond smirk.

You are mine and mine alone. I possess you, I take you as who you are, my lady Y/N.

Such are his thoughts, which you need naught to have the ability to read them; for they are readable in his tight grip of you, in how his tongue dominates yours along with his body.

Trapped under his dominance, you are found breathless and a puddle of mess when he parts the kiss to let slid his tongue over your jawline and neck, his fingers now pulling your hair gently, tangled in your curls.

Then he stops what he’s doing to contemplate your state under candlelight. And here he smirks.

“Divine you are, my lady. How can a man like me be worthy of a woman like you?”

You sensually lift your legs to pull him by his hips as you adjust your body so his can mould better in it. You like the lust in his eyes, one of the kind that doesn’t conceal his vices nor his virtues… one that shows his genuine feelings to you.

“You deserve all the love in the world, my dear Aemond. Let me heal you”, you stroke his cheeks, smiling gently.

“A flower soon to be deflowered by a rogue”, he sneers under his breath, but there’s no despise in his eyes, only the same old scars.

“I am your woman”, you tell him, and he’s surprised to find in you the same possessiveness there is in him. “I am not any flower, though.”

Aemond smirks. Whatever insecurities laid behind his good eye, now they are no more.

“You shall be more than that, darling”, he brushes his lips against yours, biting your bottom lip not long after. “My consort, mother of my heirs.”

As if to assure you he means every word, he not only kisses your neck and gets a few moans out of you, but leaves some bruises there. You’ve been marked.

Aemond, however, cannot take out of his thought the idea of corrupting you. Though it flings him with some guilt, the way your legs are wrapped around him, your bodies so perfectly moulded that leaves no doubt that it is hardly sinful what’s to be done.

You may spot some of it, so to assure him there’s no question of the legitimacy of the deed, you put yourself under him properly so he looks down at you… and yet your hand takes hold of his erect manhood.

“Y/N!”, he gasps in surprise.

You give him a malicious smirk at the same time there is nothing to encounter in your gaze that is not innocence itself. Inexperience you may be, but you have ears that long heard of maids doing so with their partners.

But to feel his cock responding well to your moves is a positive indicator that you are doing it well.

“My lady!”, he wants to stop you, but fuck it it’s so damn good. Aemond rolls his eye, almost falling over you. “You should not…”

“I want you”, you whisper in the back of his ear as you caress his face and hair with your free hand. “Carnally, emotionally, all that is between. I want my prince Aemond Targaryen the way he really is.”

It’s enough to wipe out any reasonable thought he may have in regarding preserving you of such naughtiness. Aemond lets out the repressed lust for you, his sentiments towards his lady—of the kind only his whore knew about—, and bloody seven hells… you know how to make him feel good!

All the whilst you enjoy feeling his precum getting your hand soaked, and twirling your thumb around the tip like he instructs you to—the very fact he’s the one teaching you also arouses him quite.

“Fuck”, and he growls against your skin, burying himself into your breasts, biting your nipples and sucking each ardently with the devotion of a lover.

So you too welcome a different sensation of bliss, a pleasure never before felt, hitting on your in waves of heat that get your body out of control. It does “worsen”, though, the moment he does to you what you do to him.

Aemond captures the surprise that flashes behind your eyes when he finds you soaked to the core. And then… not deeming to waste his seed, he takes your hands and pins over your head.

As his thighs are over yours, you see this handsome man towering over you. His well build muscles, his handsome manhood…

“Do you like the view, Princess?” Aemond asks gently, though the way he looks at you there’s nothing innocent or gentle.

And he sees how your body reacts. Which only arouses him further.

“Yes”, you are almost breathless. “Please, do not make me beg.”

Aemond chuckles low, hands wrapping around your neck.

“Oh, but aren’t you begging already, my love?”

And then he releases the pressure by inserting another finger in your womanhood.

“Mm. You like that, do you not?”, Aemond groans as you deliberately give yourself to him, a complete mess. He likes the view, to know he ruined you too.

And then he bends over… only to slowly insert his manhood into you.

“Oh Gods!”

Aemond side smirks at you.

“It’s going to be a long night, Princess Y/N.”

And to seal his promise, he pursuits your lips in a passionate kiss.

***

• (IV) The Great Escape.

As you stand quietly in the royal chambers, you detect grey clouds rumbling in the sky. You furrow your eyebrows at the sight, perceiving it as a bad omen.

It’s when Helaena comes at you, so suddenly and silently that you are almost startled by her presence.

“I see the boy”, she whispers at you, the only one who understands her. “He will conquer all.”

“Do you mean any of your brothers?”, you ask in the same tone.

Helaena smiles quietly, though in her eyes you detect a mix of apprehension and concern. You know she hesitates, so you hope to transmit calmness.

“Laena, do not fear. I shall keep your secret with me”, and you point to your heart.

She looks at your hands before giving a look at the horizon. You give her time. Then she turns her head and says:

“He shall not be king until other dies”, another pause. “You should not be here when Aegon becomes king.”

You are more than aware that Aegon is not really fond of you.

“Is war coming, dear Laena?”, you ask.

“No”, and here she smiles. “Not for you nor Aemond.”

You have the decency to blush. You’d think your secret encounters with Aemond remained a secret, but didn’t you underestimate your closest friend?

“I…”

“Do not apologize. You’ve brought him the light out of him.”

And in her own way of saying thanks, Helaena rests her head against your shoulder. So suddenly the announce of storm is dissipated… and your fears, likewise.

But before this light prevails, it is yet the time to cross the dark. Therefore, you are not entirely surprised to find Aemond vulnerable again. It’s late night and he comes for you in seek of solace. The one kind he’s been refused by his family.

Aemond slides through the half open door, already suspicious in not finding your privy chambers completely close. Hearing voices, a fang of jealousy threatens to bring out his worse when he comes to find out you and Helaena have been spending time together.

It is a relief, somewhat one that makes him smirk, to seeing you getting along with his family. Not that he cares about it, but…

He waits until Helaena is gone to surprise you. You are wearing a pink gown with details in pink and are just untying your braid, completely unaware of his silent presence.

Aemond is reclining against the wall, watching you remove the courtly garments that you wear daily, noticing in your distracted face different expressions he is used to see in you.

“You look exhausted”, his voice comes out as a single whisper right as you are caught off guard and almost crying out as a result. “What’s wrong?”

“Aemond!”, you yell. “Are you out of your mind? Always like a rat, aren’t you?”

He chuckles at your reaction, moving to where you stand so he can have you all to himself. You melt instantly in his arms, but then quickly recompose when noticing that vulnerability only you spot on.

“Wait. What happened?”

“You didn’t answer my question”.

You know it’s pointless to argue with him so you shrug your shoulders and say:

“Just tired, is all.”

You don’t think wise to tell that lately you’ve been having strange morning sickness, so you motion to fetch yourselves some wine before getting at him.

“Now your turn.”

Aemond doesn’t buy your lie, though. But taking the wine offered, he opts to keep that in his mind for a moment later.

“I’ve met the Strong boys.”

“Oh.”

And here comes the thunder…

“What do you mean by “oh”? I’ve been teased out and about, Y/N”, says a very moody Aemond. “Jacaerys and Joffrey think they can have their way out?”

And here he comes to burst in tears. That broken boy hasn’t been healed nor taken care of. You put your glass aside and move to embrace him. Like a needy child, he comes for support which you give him without second thoughts.

“What happened then?”

“A fight was only prevented because of my mother. She welcomed Rhaenyra and her bastards here.”

You let him burst out his anger, silent and pained, as you hold him. In moments like this is when he undress the rogue mask he often wore to public; -and it’s here his fragility is seen, which leads to a more intimate moment.

“You don’t feel at peace here.”

“No”, Aemond admits. “Not here not anywhere. But I aim to reclaim Harrenhal.”

A stranger shiver crosses your spine and even the prince feels it. He looks up at you, quizzically so.

“What was that?”

“Oh, the shiver? You felt it too?”, you try to make a joke about it. “So tight you felt it as if it were you, uh?”

But Aemond is serious.

“I am not joking, Y/N.”

“I had a bad feeling about this. You know the stories of Harrenhal.”

Now the silver haired man chuckles.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dragons could be a myth, and were treated as such before the Conquest by the Westerosi. And yet here they are”, you tell him firmly. “Stories contain a degree of truth. I did my homework.”

“I can tell.” And softening, he rises to cup your face and kiss your nose and lips. “I did not wish to distress you. But I cannot stay here any longer,Y/N.”

“Well…”, and you smile as you rest your forehead against his. “Let us runaway, Aemond. Together.”

“To where?”, Aemond isn’t sure about the idea, but this possibility does bring some relief to him.

“The Free Cities”, you decide. “You aren’t the first Targaryen who flees King’s Landing to locate somewhere there. Essos is one of those who traditionally welcomes these Valyrian kind.”

Aemond chuckles, pleasantly surprised by your wit.

“We need little convincing, don’t we?”

“It is what you need most, my beloved. Some peace of mind and spirit will do you well.”

So the plan is architected. And the promised consolation shall come.

Yet, night arises and with it, demons that come to dispute over royal flesh. Aemond is tormented by his nightmares. As he watches you sleep peacefully, he envies your serenity.

Part of him riots against the idea of being with you. Running away sounds coward-ish and the ilidic paradise is an idea fit for poets and story tellers.

Reclining against the wind, naked, he is vulnerable and to feel it only makes him feel irc about it.

It’s when you notice the bed getting colder. As you turn around, you see you are alone once again. You almost panic at the idea of him leaving you, but this is wiped out of your mind when seeing the state he is.

“Aemond”, you don’t mind the clothes. “Come to bed”, you rest your chin over his shoulder. Suddenly you notice how tall he is.

He tries to avoid your gaze, but it is difficult to ignore you when you recline your body, so warmt, against his. In a stark contrast of fire and cold, he is like an ice berg to you.

“Please”, you ask him.

Aemond turns at you at last and acquiesces with your request. Silently he follows you, but he doesn’t sleep straight away.

“You are worthy of love”, you tell him, cuddling him. “You cannot ignore the wounds that hurt you.”

“I fear I am incapable of healing”, Aemond whispers, a tear rolling down his cheek. “How can you conceive the idea of us together, Y/N?”

“You can be saved.”

He snorts, eyes closing as he slowly drifts to sleep under your tenderness.

“Maybe I do not want to be saved.”

“To be saved or to be redeemed. Is there any difference? Sleep my life. The night may be long and full of terrors, but light always comes to win over it.”

You’d think Aemond had fallen asleep as you take the blankets and cover yourselves, but as you too lie down, your hear him say:

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smile warmly because this is the first time he admits it out loud. Wiping away your happy tears, you lean to kiss his forehead.

“I love you too, Aemond Targaryen.”

Indeed, funny as it is, you are now officially part of the House Targaryen. Daeron and Helaena had been the only witnesses of the ceremony that made you officially Lord Aemond’s wife.

“Welcome to our family”, greets Daeron. “Just hope one does not notice the mess we are.”

“Oh, nothing too different of my own family, my lord.”

“Lord?”, Daeron scoffs. “We are family now, sister. There is little need to use formalities.”

Aemond smiles quietly when spotting a blush turning your cheeks into crimson. And speaking of informalities, Helaena welcomes you in her own way. To a general surprise, she in fact hugs you close before saying:

“Never forget. A king will come soon. To conquer all. The line must carry on.”

And then she takes Daeron away, leaving you baffled.

“What did she say?”, asks Aemond, curious.

“I’m afraid this time I didn’t understand what she meant, husband.”

“Well”, he shrugs his shoulders. “Not many of us do. Ready, my lady?”

You smile warmly and the sight makes Aemond content. Sun is rising in the horizon when he helps you mount old Vhagar.

And when she is ready to fly, you cling tight in your husband like a monkey.

“Oh my Gods!”

He laughs away. Never before he laughed so unpreocuppied, so carelessly, so free.

You know it. You feel it too. For when you look at him, you could tell how successfully you fixed him. Didn’t you?

***

• (V) Essos.

You may think you are brave for riding Vhagar, but braver so for mounting your husband. Now that you have enough trust to do so, you come to find out that is a lot better than in your wildest dreams.

“Oh Gods!”, and like any other day you are louder,a sound the servants are already used by now. “Aemond!”

It’s been three months since you and Aemond settled in Essos, and ever since the city not only welcomed you two properly like the royalty both of you are, but is also becoming the stage to Aemond’s ambitions—to which you turned a blind side to.

“So good, my wife!”, Aemond groans, pleased like always to see your boobs bouncing and how synced his body and yours are in one single move.

But domineering he is, so in a matter of seconds you are under his power again, a “victim” of his intense thrusts. And as he seeds you, it’s only then he comes to notice the changes of your body. Your breasts are bigger, you are curvier and your appetites… are different too.

As he collapses against your side, Aemond holds you close to him, though. Stroking your hair and helping to straighten it after messing you good, he smiles.

“I cannot believe myself when I recall the enormous quantity of years that took for us to get married.”

“You are slower than I’d assumed to be, husband”, you tease him, earning a few tickles.

“Life here isn’t as bad as it seems, though”, Aemond contemplates after kissing your forehead. “I think we can rebuild our life here in the manner of Westeros.”

You know there are certain ambitions that do not die, no matter the efforts in healing scars. It’s a side of his character that you’ve always accepted. Then you are reminded of Helaena’s prophecy and somehow you made your peace with it.

“Indeed, I…”

Oh no. Not that nauseous morning again! In a matter of seconds you are running to your privy quarters and throw all that you’ve ingested earlier the day… out.

When Aemond rushes after you, though, he doesn’t take too long to realize that an heir is coming. At last.

“My dearest wife”, he kneels after you. “Let me help you. The way you help me.”

For the first time in years he sees your vulnerability, your fragility. You try to conceal it, but he doesn’t allow you to shy away.

“Y/N… Do not be stubborn”, he helps you clean. “There is nothing wrong with it. Do you not realize what does this mean?”

When you give him a quizzical look, the prince chuckles.

“I cannot believe that I am the one to tell you… but you are carrying our child, my love.”

News that would come to change your lives…. But others too.

***

• Epilogue.

Three years later.

You are giving birth again—the price you pay for delighting yourself by engaging in marital affairs with your handsome prince—when news come from King’s Landing.

Aemond is holding baby Rhaella in his arms all the whilst watching his son, Aegon, practice sword ship. He’s very prideful over his eldest son taking so much after him where brain matters are concerned—and abilities too—, but the sweet temper is something the boy takes after you.

“See, Rhae? Your brother is going to protect you just fine”, Aemond smiles before kissing his daughter’s head.

She giggles, a sight he adores to behold, but every smile dies when a messenger dressed in green comes in.

“My lord Prince”, this young lad greets Aemond, sounding somewhat nervous.

“Who is this? Sent by mother, I presume.”

The lad delivers him an old parchment. When opening it carefully, the prince frowns.

“What does this mean?”

“There is war in Westeros, Ser. And King Aegon has summoned you.”

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #team green #lord Aemond #aemond one eyed #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #prince aemond targaryen #Prince Aemond

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ravengards-rogue · 6 months

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the evening stretch | warm-up series.

ft. the prompts, nsfw / "dinner" / arthur morgan.

✧ tags : afab!reader + fem!reader outdoors sex, oral (f!recieving), reader is an outlaw, established relationship, desperate arthur morgan, 18+

✧ wc : 2.7k

✧ a/n : hello! this is part of a little warm-up series i do on my other blog where i pick three prompts and try to come up with something. i normally do them in a rut. im working on a commission and im super stuck so.

this actually landed on javier four times in a row but im being kind and sparing a friend so. here's mr. morgan.

✧ synopsis : arthur thinks the place between your legs would suit him quite nicely.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

Honest to God, Arthur's never been like this before.

He ain't all that pious to start, so perhaps the sentiment doesn't stretch as far as he would like it too. But it's true, all the same - that in all the lives he's lived, he's never experienced this much bone-deep desire for another human being.

Which is outright ridiculous, since right now you're just making supper. Dinner, you always clarify with that yankee accent. You're going to have dinner together, 'cause Arthur needs to eat. He works hard, according to you.

It's not much, but you're a better cook than Pearson. Even if that's not saying a whole lot. And you're insistent on making the man eat, always on his case about how it's hardly enough for a man his size.

Arthur can chalk it up to being that you love him, as you have told him foolishly many times. He's sure you're not gonna be happy with him in a minute since again - all you're doing is making dinner.

It's just... something. Something about you today. Dammit, he doesn't understand it neither. You've got a job together, and you and Arthur play convincing husband and wife since you practically are anyway. Arthur's been watching you today closely. You lie pretty. Smile with all your teeth, clever with a careful finesse and an honest knack for debauchery and indecency.

You love calling yourself an awful woman. Joking about dying an unweddable spinster given your crudity.

But Arthur likes it in you. Of you. Likes it so much he's done nothing but readjust his pants watching you squirm your way out of every difficult situation and sling the revolver on your hip like a tried-and-true gunslinger.

You're a fine woman to him. A fine one.

The fire crackles as you place a pot over the little flame of the faux stove. You've made a real dinner somehow - with some vegetables and creeping thyme and carefully butchery of meat. It smells good and you seem proud of it, stirring the thing with the sharp end of your knife. Careful not to scrape the pot.

Arthur watches the light glow orange on your face, carefully observing the way it shines on you. You don't look up at all when you speak.

"Gonna stare a hole into me, Morgan."

He feels something warm crawl up his cheeks. He scratches his beard instinctively, tucking his hat over his eyes.

"'m sorry," He says, unsure of how to cover for himself. "Been thinking about some things."

"Don't hurt yourself," You reply, sardonic and dry. Arthur adores you. He laughs to himself and feels warmed by the pleasant smile that seems to give you.

"I'll try. Ain't much used to thinking,"

"Penny for your thoughts, then Mr. Morgan." You reply, carefully moving the pot around so nothing burns. "Might help you clear your mind if you get some of it off your chest."

He's backed himself into a wall. Goddamn him and his big mouth. He hesitates, taking it off this time. Fidgety.

"Yanno, there ain't a lot women like you. Not that I've met at least."

You give him a look. Your lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by him.

"Is that so?"

He laughs to himself. "It is indeed. You're a real piece of work. 'Specially going around batting your lashes, making yourself out to be a housewife."

"Aw what, did you like seeing me all doe eyed?" You smile to yourself, teasing but not entirely insincere. "If it helps, since you're the fake husband, I'm only half-acting."

That makes him grin. Though you say it with confidence, the sincerity it makes you flush.

"It ain't that," Arthur says again, looking at your face for the second time in a few minutes. "Just that you're a fine woman to be around. What do they call it...resourceful. That's what I'm thinking of."

"Who taught you such a big word, Morgan?"

"Trelawny, I'd guess."

You laugh, loud and beautiful and Arthur smiles. You look at him from across the fire. "Well, I'm glad you like my company, Mr. Morgan."

"I do more than like it," He hums, offering a reprieve. He nods at you carefully, head tilted. "Come 'ere,"

Your eyes widen at him, but you don't deny him of what he's asking. For that he is awfully grateful. You're more than capable and much less than needy. There's victory in your deliberate desire for him, Arthur thinks. You want him enough to let him chase you.

You come sit by Arthur. You're a little awkward with him still but he don't mind. It adds to whatever he feels for you, sugar-sweet affection and all. You sit on your knees and Arthur turns his head looking at you.

Beautiful. Beautiful thing you are, really. He has a hard time finding the words to tell you.

He reaches up, hand cupping your face. You lean into the touch, palm resting on calloused hand. He adores you.

"And quit with the Mister Morgan nonsense. Drives me crazy."

"Arthur," You say, slow and deliberate. "You know you're looking at me like you wanna eat me."

'"Read my mind, then."

"Arthur," You repeat, scandalized. He would smile if he wasn't so serious. "We're supposed to be eatin' dinner. You got into a whole spat with them Leymone Riders just today. You need to recover,"

His smile widens.

"Lettin' me go down on ya will heal me just fine,"

You look at him exasperated. Arthur leans into your neck, placing chaste kisses down the line of your jaw. He kisses you just there - underneath your earlobe, knows it drives you crazy.

"Lay down, sugar. Help a poor, injured man heal."

You pull away from him with faux exasperation, fond smiling breaking your face.

"You can be such a dog some times, do you know that?"

"I'm afraid I do,"

You give him another unimpressed look, but you listen anyways. Arthur moves so you can lay down on the bedroll - his bedroll. He takes off his coat just before you lay your head, playing it underneath you to get you more comfortable.

"Dinner's gonna burn," You tell him, almost reflexively. He laughs as he looks at you, your hands folded over your stomach and flat. He laughs at you.

"Burn? You feeling warm?"

"Arthur!"

And he laughs again, catching your boot in his hand as you go to kick his chest lightly. He sets it back down as he stares at you. You're quite the sight. Adoration bubbles up into his throat, blooms out into a hum. The sound of crickets and owls and all sorts of night wanderers sound - but none are distracting enough to pry his gaze away.

"You're looking too much," You say, your voice a half tremble. He nods.

"Got too," Arthur hums, leaning forward into your space. You always smell good to him, some cross between soft earth, and sweet liquor and clothes left in the sun. Skin and salt and sweet. "Who knows how long I'll be around."

He presses his lips to yours gentle and you kiss him - but only once before pulling away. Your eyes suddenly serious, warm palm on his cheek.

"Don't say something so morbid. If you go, I go,"

"Sweetheart—"

"No buts." You affirm, pressing your thumb to his lip all serious. Your eyes meet and for a moment - just one minute, all he wants to do is stop time from moving. From stealing him from you in life at all. Even a few seconds, intolerable. "Don't feel to good to hear, does it? So don't say it."

"Alright, alright," He huffs, laughing against your neck. He kisses it again, right against your pulse - quickening under his teeth as he bites and scrapes. He mulls over how much he wants you, and how little time there is to do everything. "Jus' lemme...I dunno."

Now you're cheeky, smiling up at him. Lord above, you do something so terrible to him. "Now that's just not true, baby."

He laughs deep and raspy. It's not true, because he knows exactly what he's after.

Arthur lets his hands plane over your clothed body. He doesn't bother with the ritual of undressing you entirely - since the act doesn't deserve the intimacy. You do, maybe - but Arthur's head feels too foggy to do anything civilized. He has to settle for letting his hands grip the fabric of your skirt and push it until it bunches around your waist.

There's no real delicacy in it, save for the way your breath hitches as Arthur gives himself better access. He moves to lay on his stomach between your thighs. He wishes it were brighter to give him better view. He's seen it plenty but looking at your pretty pussy alone gets him harder than steel.

His hands go underneath every layer of fabric to undo the little tie of your undergarments. You squirm when Arthur takes them off, but you don't pull away.

It's pretty. Even with the dim light of just the moon and fire to let Arthur see it. What entices him mostly though is the scent, after a long day of riding out alone - there's something about the way you smell - sweat and all that makes the back of his mouth ache with want. Makes his teeth hurt just dreaming about it.

He doesn't let his animalistic urges take him yet. He knows you need the build up. His hand is soft as he grips onto your waist. He pulls your legs further apart and lets his lips brush the inside of your thigh. Starts at your knee and works his way up, his mouth burning hot - open kisses. You giggle at the sensation of his beard, but it's tamped down with lust Arthur knows like the back of his hand.

Slow, deliberate, sinful. He knows the way you liked to be touched so exactly, but the pace is set more by his desperation. It grows ten sizes listening to you sigh and huff, feeling your hands come down to touch his hair and play with it.

"Arthur," Your voice calls. Pleading. Wanting him. You're so good at making Arthur loose his composure with so little. It's hard to tease you as your voice clips off into a whine. "Arthur,"

"I've got you," He says, assured. He means it as much as he means anything he's ever said. He ain't a decent man, but this much he can say full ways. "I've got you, sugar. Ease up. Let me take care of you,"

And so you again, breathless - boneless and eager. You let Arthur into your space, and something about that. Something about you. His heart races, blood pumping through his body. It pulses in his ears, head swimming with nothing but praise for you.

You're a fine woman. You're a good girl. The best he knows.

Arthur can feel the way your clit pulses with want before he ever puts his mouth on you. Makes him chuckle, gloved hand resting on your navel. He uses his thumb to pull it back, before using both hands to spread you open. Then, in an act less then gentlemanly, spits on it hard. He watches it land, lewd as it drips between your fold. He laughs to himself.

Another pitchy call of his name and Arthur decides he's had enough fun to get him through the evening.

He kisses your clit first, thinks it's only gentlemanly. When your hips buck up trying to chase the feeling of his mouth - he laughs. His hands dig into your hips. You're soft, skin dimpling from just how tight he holds onto you.

When he finally gets what he wants, his own body lurches forward from want. He nearly slumps into the ground - half-way between relieved and utterly addicted. It's a sense of euphoria unmatched by the finest liquor or cigars money can be.

The taste of you fills his mouth as Arthur eats.

Arthur is not used to playing predator. Not interested in the act of devouring. You often compare him to some sort of herbivore. But there's something too hungry, too visceral, too primal for him to be anything but a coyote. A teethed thing, all screwed up from hunger.

He lets his tongue slip against the seam of your cunt, all the arousal collecting in his mouth. His senses flood with something heady, sweet but bitter and he groans shamelessly as a result. Spoiled by the taste and utterly debauched.

"Oh, god - Arthur, you're—"

Arthur is pleased by the way your words are cut off by your own moan. He slides his tongue back up, wet muscle firm as it lays flat against your clit. There's a slight twitch like it's asking for more attention.

Arthur is all to eager vtoo provide, closing his lips around the twitching bundle of nerves. He knows what you like. Learned over time just the amount of pressure he needs to suck with and the speed he needs to draw his tongue over your clit to get you right at the very edge of your orgasm.

He teases you to that pace. Slow increases in either or, until it's just at that perfect medium. Once he hits that spot, you always moan so pretty.

You shudder, your body lurching up as your hands get tighter in his hair. "Aah, fuck. Ngh, Arthur. Don't do this t'me."

You begging him not too makes him want to do it more. If Arthur were any less aroused, he would. But his brain can barely think up enough to stamina to do that. His own cock is strained against his work pants - hips instinctively rutting into the bedroll just beneath him. Silently seeking friction all while hoping he doesn't get enough to distract him.

It'd be a damn shame, he thinks - letting anything pull him from the taste of your pussy. From the smell of it, from the sight of it, from the feeling of you. Sticky, pulsing strings of arousal coating his tongue and turning all his thoughts to dust.

His cock throbs again as you rut against his mouth. Arthur pins you in place.

"Please," You say. A magic word he ain't much stronger than. "Please make me cum,"

You really are a good girl, the way you know exactly what makes him tick. Arthur moans into your cunt as he sucks and licks and eats. He'd die over it, and he does not mean it lightly. It's the only thing in the world he wants to do in the moment. He laser focuses on finding that sweet spot again.

And he knows he does when you start whimpering. Squirming and holding onto his soft brown locks and pleading for something you don't know about. He can feel how wet your getting - dripping along down his beard and face. Thick strings of your arousal stick and slide down his neck.

He's never been a messy eater, but you've been disproving many of his prior understandings of himself. He supposes it's only natural.

"Oh, baby," You say, not even his name. Arthur knows it's a warning that you're gonna cum. All he can do is encourage you. He hums into your soft, wet cunt and you groan again. "Fuck, Arthur. I'm gonna cum."

Arthur knows better. He doesn't do a thing but keep going. Lets you move and thrash and pull away but keeps you firm in his place and eats your pussy until you can barely think.

He knows the knot is untying before you do because of how much you squirm. When you cum, you cum hard. Your back arches up into a picture perfect curve, toes curling and hands tugging at his roots for purchase.

He can feel every pulse of desire as you finally do let go. You cry out, loud enough to startle any nearby critters. Your fingers grip tight at the base of his hair as the orgasm washes over you. It's just as magnetic as it was the first time.

He's sure that will always be true.

When Arthur pulls away from your pulsing, wet core - he can feel just how much of his lower face is sticky. He's sure you also know, if the way you laugh is anything to go by.

And he's not long to follow after. Not even a few seconds and he can feel something in pants tighten - a mess of white staining the front of the denim in an onset of lust damn near shameful. Is he a teenager again? Lord above.

Breathlessly, you look down at him after you've ridden your high out.

Pulling up Arthur by the collar, you look at him slowly and frown. You look impassioned and a little frustrated.

You kiss him tender after you've come too. Once, then twice, then a another time with your hand still drawn into a fist. Arthur grabs it closed, opening your palms before kissing the palm of your hands until you're no longer mad.

"Hate how good you are at that," You admit, a little drunk of the euphoria of all of it. "Make me feel so crazy."

Arthur beams at you unapologetic.

"It's good to be that with me, sweetheart." Arthur says, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Now how about you go and give me one more?"

You laugh breathlessly but don't go to stop him at all.

"Insatiable man."

"Only for you, my girl."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 smut #rogues love letters #zero.arthur #this is OUTRAGEOUS. I WAS WARMING UP???#i need to sleep its nearly 8. jesus christ.

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v3nomly · 1 month

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𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

• characters — Gwayne Hightower ; Davos Blackwood ; Cregan Stark ; Jacaerys Velaryon ; GN Reader

• synopsis — I made this post, stating I can describe any fictional characters cock in detail. As promised, here is the second batch of characters requested.

• tags & warnings — smut, hand jobs, penetrative sex, outdoor sex.

• a/n — Wowza, another one in the bag. I had told myself I was only going to write 100 words per character, but I wrote nearly double. Anyways, next up Genshin men. Request are open!

Main Masterlist | Other Parts

— 𝐆𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

Gwayne is a man of honor, and as such the intricacy of his cock were hidden away until your wedding night. At first, he was almost bashful at your hasty hands, which had ducked under his waistline before the door closed. When your hands wrap around his already hardening length, he can’t help but lean into you.

You bite your lip as you guide him back to bed, giggling slightly at the speed at which he removes his layers. Freeing cock, which sits leaking and flushed, his shaft freckled and tip partially pink.

Ser Gwayne may play the part of a cocky knight, but within the privacy of your room, he is loyal to nothing but you. He’s practically on the verge of coming undone and you’ve barely touched him. Delicate are your fingers as they dance across his flesh in curiosity. Eye wide as you watch every twitch of his cock and hitch of his breath.

— 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

You learned quickly that Davos is insatiable when it comes to you. It doesn’t matter where you are, somehow his hands always find your hips, pulling your ass against his clothed cock, and grinding it into you with a needy groan. Even through the fabric, you can feel the strain of his thick cock, begging to be buried inside you.

“Need you,” he begs, voice heavy with lust.

You’ve grown used to the rough feeling of bark against your back. Davos will take you anywhere and everywhere he can. He can’t deny he loves the risk of getting caught, of someone catching you in such a debauched state, taking his cock so well.

He holds your legs, bracing your weight against himself as he ruts into you again and again. His fat tip stretches you to swallow all of him, your juices leaking down his shaft in a way that drives him crazy. At this angle, you can feel every inch of him, every minute twitch of his cock, and the subtle curve that drags inside of you so perfectly.

— 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

One wouldn’t need to fuck Cregan to gather that he’s well-endowed. The man is large and imposing and his cock is no different. It didn’t matter how many times he took you or how he took you, it always had you seeing stars. He could fuck you fast or slow, it didn’t matter, you’d be a cock dumb mess by the end of it.

It doesn’t matter how needy you are for him, Cregan is insistent on making you cum at least once before he fucks you. Little does he know you crave the burn of stretching around his fat cock. The light pain quickly turns to blinding pleasure once he sets his pace, leaving you clawing at the bed sheets and whining for more.

“Doing so good for me, sweet girl,” he praises, his eyes trained on the sight of you taking him.

— 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧

Jacaerys Velaryon was surely closer to the gods than an average man. He was handsome in every sense of the word, from his looks to his princely charm. Yet, he had this air about him as if he didn’t know it. He sits before you, not as his mother's heir, but as your lover. Sweet nothings fall from his lips as watches you with half-lidded eyes.

Not afraid to let you take the lead, his hands ball into his sheets. His breath catches in his throat as you kiss along his thighs growing oh so close to his long aching cock before continuing upward to his navel.

“Stop teasing,” Jacaerys finally moans, lifting himself to try and rut against you, desperate for some sort of friction. You can’t help but giggle, he sounds so cute when he begs, and you can’t deny him when his cock looks so pretty. It was as if someone had ripped a page from a romance novel giving you the perfectly crafted man and his perfectly crafted cock.

#gwayne hightower x reader #davos blackwood x reader #cregan stark x reader #gwayne hightower x you #davos blackwood x you #cregan stark x you #jacerys velaryon x reader #jacerys x reader #hotd x reader #˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ ven writes

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ofstarsandvibranium · 4 months

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Precious Truths: Part 5

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict's eyes scan the words across the page. After your confession, he proceeded to buy one of Talbot's your poetry books.

'Tis in your eyes I seek comfort.

Your arms I find solace.

In your lips I find love.

'Tis in you that I find the whole world

Standing before in great beauty

But at an arm's length is where I stay.

The second eldest Bridgerton is in awe. Your words carry such deep meaning, a sense of longing. Is this how you feel? Had someone captured your heart and he was none the wiser?

So many questions have risen since he's learned of your secret identity. Your poetry carries a deep sense of love, desire, passion. He never expected such feelings to come from you. This is a completely different side of you he is now seeing.

In the past, when you shared your poetry with him, they had a light, romantic touch. A sense of naivety and fairy tale outlook on love and life. But as Talbot, it was different.

"Helloooo?" Eloise waves her hand in front of Benedict, breaking his concentration.

He slaps her hand away, "What?"

Eloise snorts, "I have never seen you so deep in a book before, brother."

"A few ladies mentioned Arthur Talbot's work and I figured I see what the fuss was all about."

His sister rolls her eyes, "Women fawning over men waxing romantic poetics. Typical."

"I cannot wait for the day you fall in love, sister, and make an absolute fool of yourself." Benedict stands from his place at the table in the drawing room. He steps out to see Anthony and Kate escorting you to the door. His eyes brighten, "Y/N, I wasn't aware you were here."

You nod to him, "Apologies, Mister Bridgerton. I was simply here to discuss...business with Lord Bridgerton," you gesture to Anthony.

Benedict frowns, "Why such formality with us? We've been friends for years."

"Aunt Eliza advises me that I should be formal with you. She said that there may be men who envy the idea that I am close with you. So it is best we remain more...formal."

Benedict's shoulders sag, "Very well. We mustn't deter any...future prospects."

You nod, "Thank you for understanding," you face Anthony again and curtsey, "My Lord, thank you again for the list." You then face Kate, "I shall see you later, my Lady."

"Of course. I look forward to spending more time with you."

You proceed to take your leave, Benedict's eyes following you as you exit the Bridgertons' home.

"Excuse me," Benedict murmurs, heading straight to the study and pouring himself a drink.

Anthony clears his throat as he enters the room, "Will you be okay, brother? Truly."

"I have to be. There are much better men out there that will be able to provide the life and freedom she deserves. I need to accept that." Anthony, approaches his brother and gives him a reassuring pat on his shoulders, "I commend you for doing this. It won't be easy, but with time, I'm sure you'll be alright."

"Yes...time."

_____________________________

"Tell me about yourself, Miss L/N," Lord Belmont says as he turns you about the ballroom among the other couples.

You have to admit that the man is handsome, "Well I love poetry and to read. I am a fair player of the pianoforte as well as the harp. I know Latin and Greek. I adore animals."

Lord Belmont hums, "How do you fare in the outdoors?"

"I enjoy my time riding and walking amongst nature."

The lord scrunches up his face and distaste, "Oh no. If you are to be my wife, you shall be inside at all times being lady of the house."

You look at him in disbelief, "Am I not allowed to step outside at all, my Lord?"

"Of course, but only when we need to attend balls or important festivities."

Thankfully, the dance ends and you quickly and politely excuse yourself. You head straight to the refreshment table. You grab a lemonade and gulp half the glass down.

"Are you well? You practically ran from Lord Belmont," Kate asks as she approaches you at the drinks table.

You hum, "While Lord Belmont is a handsome man, I do not think he would allow the...freedom, that I desire."

Kate nods in understanding, "I see. Well, onto the next then?" She hooks her arm around yours and guides you to the the corner of the room where Anthony, Benedict, Daphne, and a man you haven't seen before stands with them.

"Apologies, I bumped into Miss L/N at the refreshment table. She needed a break from dancing."

Daphne's eyes light up, "Wonderful! Miss L/N, this is the Duke's friend, Lord Montclair, a marquess" she gestures to the dark skinned man dressed in a navy blue velvet suit.

You curtsy, "Good evening, Lord Montclair."

He nods to you, "A pleasure, Miss L/N," he gives you a kind smile.

"Montclair, you have French heritage?"

His smile grows wider, "I do. My father is French. Have you been?"

You nod, "My family and I would travel there for the summer," your smile weakens, "Unfortunately, I have not visited for years now."

"I understand. It has been some time since I have visited as well."

You and the Marquess continue to look each other with kind eyes. Benedict hides his clenched fists behind his back. Kate watches her brother-in-law with careful eyes.

Daphne is beaming as she speaks, "Lord Montclair, Miss Y/N is well-versed in poetry."

"Really?"

You shy from his gaze, "Yes, um, my mother would read poetry all the time. I fell in love with it. I love how much emotion one can convey through few lines."

"She writes poetry, as well," Benedict speaks and you look at him in surprise, "The way her words can make you feel so much in small amounts of verses...it's a beautiful feeling."

You give him a grateful smile and turn back to Lord Montclair, "Mister Bridgerton flatters me, but I am a novice when it comes to poetry writing."

"I do hope I get to read some of your writing in the future, Miss L/N."

You giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as Lord Montclair gives his attention to you, "Perhaps sooner than expected, my Lord."

Lord Montclair steps closer to you, "I know you are taking a moment from dancing, but perhaps you have space on your dance card for me?"

"Of course, my Lord," you offer him your dance card and watch as he scribbles his name in the next space, which happens to be for the next dance coming up.

"Oh, it seems our dance is here," he holds out his hand, waiting for you with a smile.

You place your gloved hand in his and follow him as he escorts you to the floor. You glance back at the Bridgertons, who all watch you with eager, careful eyes.

As they all watch you waltz with the Marquess, Benedict asks his sister, "Do you vouch for the Marcquess?"

She nods, "Yes. He is very kind. He enjoys reading and archery-"

"Brother, Y/N excels in archery, correct?"

Benedict clenches his jaw, "She does." His eyes never waver from you as you smile while dancing with the marquess.

"Looks like there may be some things they have in common," Kate says, eyeing her brother-in-law.

"How wonderful for them," Benedict murmurs as he walks away from his siblings.

Meanwhile, you and the marquess move along the ballroom floor with the other participants.

"The duchess tells me that you are looking for a husband this season," Lord Montclair says with curiosity in his tone.

You sigh, "Yes, and I shall admit that the search hasn't been very fruitful." Montclair snorts and you immediately apologize, "Excuse my forwardness, my Lord-"

He shakes his head, "No no. Please, continue. I can admire a woman who freely speaks her mind."

You nod, "I just look for a man who can give me certain freedoms. A husband that will allow me to pursue passions of mine, not expect me to sit there to be seen and not heard."

The marquess hums, "It just so happens that I am in the search for a wife."

You arch a brow at him, "Oh?"

"Yes. To be transparent, I have been grieving for the past two years at the loss of my wife. I loved her dearly, but I miss the companionship."

"I am sorry for your loss, my Lord. I also understand the yearning for companionship."

"Thank you. No one could ever replace, Maria, but I would like someone to be at my side as I continue on with life."

"Tell me about her," you kindly request.

You watch as a smile grows on the man's face. He goes on to share stories about Maria and you share things about yourself. You see the sadness in him but the willingness to put himself out there again. It's admirable.

________________________

You spend a large portion of your night conversing with Lord Montclair. The man was intelligent, charming, funny, and kind. He was the perfect man you see yourself marrying and yet...your eyes still wander towards Benedict. He spoke with some lords, danced with a few women. You knew you initiated the distance between you and Benedict, but that didn't mean it doesn't hurt you.

That man has held your heart for several years and it seems he will never reciprocate the feelings you have for him. So it's best to start the process of moving on, hopefully, with Lord Montclair.

And Lord Montclair did not disappoint when he called upon you the next morning.

He sat across from you in the sitting room, Aunt Eliza nearby going over some paperwork.

You look down at the bouquet of flowers, your favorite, the very ones you mentioned last night during your dance with Lord Montclair.

"Have you read any new poems today?" You shake your head and Montclair pulls out a book you are very familiar with, "Have you read Arthur Talbot's work? He's fairly new yet quite popular already."

You bite your lip to prevent you from bursting into a fit of giggles, "I adore his work. He has an impressive way of words."

He opens the book to a dog-eared page. He clears his throat and begins to recite,

To love you is to bathe in your light

To sway to your laughter,

With its melody and rhythm

To swell with pride when your eyes gaze on mine.

For that, I am whole

And you are forever my muse.

You felt a little...odd. Considering that not only is Lord Montclair reciting a poem that you wrote, but it's also about a man you are trying to get over. Not what you expected when you received your first caller.

"I believe that was one of Talbot's earlier works, yes?"

Montclair nods, "Yes, but I still believe the feeling of what he was trying to convey is very much still there, don't you agree?"

"Very much so, my Lord."

After some lengthy discussion about Talbot's work, you two move to the piano so you can teach him how to play.

"I never did have much of an ear for music. My mother was quite disappointed in me when I was unable to play any instrument she placed in my hands."

You chuckle, "We shall start with something easy." You show him how to place his fingers on the keys, giggling as you move each finger to the right location.

You continue to laugh with each other as you teach him the simplest of songs, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

As you laugh when he gets the wrong note, a footman enters the room, "Miss L/N, you have another caller."

Daphne enters the room and you immediately stand, "Your Grace!"

The duchess' smile grows at the sight of you and Lord Montclair, "I do hope I haven't upset you with my intrusion, but it is nearing lunch and Lord Montclair hadn't return. But I see why now." she gives you a teasing look.

"I apologize for keeping Lord Montclair for so long, your Grace."

"Nonsense, Y/N. I was just checking that our dear marquess is alright."

Lord Montclair chuckles as he, too, stands from the piano bench, "As you can see, I am quite alright, but I suppose I have overstayed my welcome."

You shake your head, "Of course not, my Lord. It was a pleasure seeing you. I hope to see you again soon."

He faces you, "I hope to see you as well," he gently grabs your gloved hand and places a kiss atop it.

He then bows to your aunt, "Miss Y/N, good day."

"You as well, my Lord," your aunt responds with a wave.

You curtsy to Daphne, and she and the marquess both leave your home.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #f!reader #fem!reader #female!reader

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

Note

Hey! Congrats again on your follower milestone! <3

From the smutty prompts, can you do number one from the nature category with Miguel, please? :))) xoxo

Hi!!! omg this prompt is soooo soft and sweet and MIGUEL FUCKING DESERVES IT!!! so thank you so so so much for requesting this is some sappy crap that i had just a grand ol time writing!!!

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, established relationship, outdoor sex (but they are literally the only ones there so no exhibitionism), unprotected piv (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), riding, sappy very cheesy very fluffy many cavities (w/c: 1.1K)

Prompt: sensual sex in a secluded meadow during a picnic.

He doesn’t like to go away often, but sometimes, the need to just spoil you gets to be too much. He’s away from you far too much, burying himself in work and experiments, to the point that he’s sure you’ll leave him. But you’re always there, waiting for him with a beaming smile and reaching for him like he never left.

So of course he has to spoil you.

It didn’t take LYLA long to find this dimension at his request: one where New York is empty, Central Park grown over the entirety of the city, the pavement covered in soft flowers, and skyscrapers covered in creeping vines. And God, you had practically glowed when he showed you the little picnic he had set out, a soft blanket nestled in a little grove of wildflowers, a rainbow of petals and leaves covering the lush earth. A little piece of paradise just for the two of you.

“I didn’t, um,” he stumbles over his words, heart beating out of his chest at how fucking beautiful you look, eyes alight as you look up at him with a gaze so adoring, his knees might give out on the spot. “I just brought some food from the cafeteria, since I can’t cook for shit and I um- I wanted to surprise you.”

You collide into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs as you kiss him fiercely. “It’s perfect, Miguel,” you murmur against his lips, “absolutely perfect.” He feels like you're talking more about him than the picnic, but smiles nonetheless.

You feed him little bits of fruit and empanada from the cafeteria back home, but he swears that it tastes so much better from your loving hand. He feels a little out of place here, crushing flowers beneath his hulking body. But you’re ethereal, little butterflies flitting around you, drawn to you, just as he is.

He recklessly plucks a purple flower from the ground, the prettiest one he can find, and tucks it behind your ear. Hobie would tease that he’s getting soft, but the way you giggle, light and airy and effervescent, makes his chest tight with delirious happiness, and it’s all worth it.

You meet his lips in a gentle kiss, and you taste of the strawberries he brought for you. You’re so warm, warm like pure sunlight in his hands and he can’t help but pull you into his lap, picnic forgotten, holding you like you’ll disappear in a moment. But you break from his lips, cupping his jaw and smiling in a soft, gentle way that feels like you’re here to stay forever.

He peels your dress off, slowly and deliberately, kissing down your jaw, your neck, your tits, as he bares your body to his gaze. He only takes his own clothes off when you beg him for it, rucking his shirt up over his stomach as you whine into his mouth.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and your breath catches in the back of your throat as he rubs gentle circles into your clit over your panties. “So beautiful, can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers, and with the way he’s playing with your pussy, the only thing you can do is desperately lick into his mouth as you rock your hips into his hand.

You lean into him, pushing on his shoulders ever so gently as you lay him back onto the plush blanket. He could fight back, push you onto your back instead, but something about this, the sun shining on your hair, the way you taste, how soft you are in his hands; it’s all making him melt back into the flowers as you lean over him. I can have this, he thinks to himself, I’m not going to lose this. There’s no rush.

When you eventually pull your panties to the side, letting him sink into you ever so slowly, Miguel is sure that he’s found heaven. You’re practically shining, an angel in real-time, as you roll your hips forward, clenching around him as you rake your nails down his chest in a way that makes him gasp beneath you.

“God, look at you,” you say, before it tapers off into an agonized whine as Miguel’s cock plunges into you just right. “So perfect for me, treating me so fucking- ah, good.”

Miguel grasps desperately at your hips, trying to help you as you drop onto him over and over and over again. Your praise makes him whine, his hips jerking up to plunge into you even deeper as his mind goes fuzzy with need. ”Can’t believe you’re mine Miguel," you whimper, "Can’t believe you chose me.”

He lunges up on his arms at your words, pressing his lips to yours in a sticky kiss that has the both of you moaning in tandem. “I’ll always choose you, princesa. Mi vida, eres mi vida.”

The grove is quiet, the obscene sounds of your bodies meeting over and over mixing with the sounds of his groans as you fuck yourself on his cock. You practically wail when his calloused fingers come to rest on your achy clit, rubbing hard, slow circles that have your head spinning. His cock reaches so deep like this, stretching you out, owning you in only the way that he can.

“You going to cum for me, beautiful?” he husks, sounding like he’s just run a marathon. “C’mon, baby, soak my cock with this pretty pussy.” You’re nodding furiously, bouncing desperately on his fat cock as he rubs your clit just fucking right-

You gasp, soundless and overwhelmed as you cum around him, leaning forward to kiss him, hoping to ground yourself with his mouth. Miguel curses against your lips, mumbling something in Spanish as he pulls his hand away from your clit to wrap around your back, like he can’t possibly get close enough.

He thrusts up into you once, twice, before stilling with his own orgasm. You imagine that you can feel him filling you up, claiming you in the most intimate way possible.

You break the kiss, pressing your forehead against his as you both catch your breaths. As he blinks up at you again, eyes round like he can’t believe that you’re actually here, that it wasn’t all a dream, you can’t help but giggle softly, pecking him quickly on the lips.

And he smiles, in the only way he does with you. No holds barred, unabashed happiness radiating off of him. “I love you,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. You breathe together, letting the calm coolness of the air rush over you both, the sounds of the breeze rustling the flowers and trees, the incessant beating of your hearts.

This is home, Miguel thinks, wrapping you tighter in his arms, I’m finally home.

#i literally just want him to be happy #is that too much to ask #this is some sappy shit #but what can i say #i am a cheeseball at heart #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

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written-in-flowers · 3 months

Text

Her Lover: Demon!Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

Pairing: incubi!hongjoong x fem!reader | side pairing: demonline x fem!reader

Genre: smut, fluff, major angst MINORS DNI

Word Count: 11k

Summary: Often called "The Beauty" of his brothers, Hongjoong's "hollow day" turns even worse with a visit from his vicious mother and an appearance from his absentee father. The only cure: you.

Tags: polyamorous relationship (m/m/m/f), depression, violence, ritual sacrifices, graphic depictions of death, mentions of mental illness, medication, mentions of bad childhood, mentions of abuse, mentions of emotional neglect, parents being shitty overall, orgies, incest, alcohol usage, outdoor sex, sex in the woods, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, rough sex, very little foreplay, exhibitionism, face fucking, rough oral sex, sloppy oral sex, cum swallowing, light spanking, dom/sub dynamic, choking.

Pretty Lady Masterlist

Previously on Pretty Lady

Next >

***

He loved watching you sleep. He knew how creepy that sounded, but he enjoyed it. You looked the most peaceful when you slept. Wrapped in a cocoon of suede and linen, there was no smug smirk or furrowed brow on your face. In dreams, you escape all the confusion of this new world and sink into the familiar again. Laying beside you, he wondered what you dreamt about. You’d once had a nightmare about your mother, but as far as he knew, that didn’t happen anymore. Hongjoong hardly remembered his dreams. When he did, he saw blurry, brief images that left him empty inside.

The first time Hongjoong saw his mother, he was six-years-old and living with a witch in Korea. He recalled playing outside in the small courtyard in front of their hanok when a woman appeared at the gate. The witch, an old hag named Aro, looked stunned and fearful at the sight of her. Hongjoong recalled her stuttering and bowing to the strange woman. She had flowing black hair with smooth yellow-brown skin and thin dark eyes. He remembered her hardly giving notice to Aro, but instead focusing on him. Back then, Hongjoong didn’t know many demons. Aro told him he must keep his true identity a secret if he wished to stay amongst the living. She’d stared at him with brown eyes circled by a thin crimson line and he knew. Most mothers might smile at their child, especially one they barely saw. Not her.

‘Hello, Hongjoong. Do you remember me?’

‘No.’

How could he when the last time she'd seen him, she'd popped him out of her? Back then, he’d hoped she'd come to take him to France to live with Seonghwa, his elder brother. Perhaps take him to Hell, where he can see his father, Asmodeus, who’d seen him far more often than her. But, no. Mistress Youngmi came for something else.

‘I have need of him tonight. Bring him to the old meeting place at dusk.’

‘Yes, Mistress.’

Hongjoong didn’t know what she’d planned at the time, but he’d soon find out. His mother gathered her coven of followers, witches whom she’d recruited, to perform ritual. They needed the blood of a demon, the blood of a cambion, and the blood of a human to enhance their powers. He recalled his fear as he pushed stray hairs from your face. Witches, gruesome and snarling, terrified him as his mother dragged him to a cauldron at the cliff's edge. He thought she planned on killing him. He believed this mostly because he’d just seen her slice open the human’s and cambion’s throats. Hongjoong fought and struggled against her tight grip. His sharp claws detracted and he swiped at her sleeve fiercely. This only earned him a harsh smack to the face. Obviously, his mother did not kill him. She’d simply cut open his finger and let a few drops fall into the dark red potion. Humans and even cambions in those days meant nothing to demons. Their blood can be spilt by the gallon. His blood, Aro told him, was special.

He’d seen how your mother interacted with you. She’d embraced, kissed and comforted you. Witches weren’t known for their kindness. Aro begrudgingly cared for him, he knew. If she wished to have high favor with his mother, she’d care for her son. Yes, she fed, clothed and housed him, but nothing more. This left Hongjoong to his own devices most of the time. He then started hanging around the wrong kind of crowd: the street urchins who got by stealing and committing petty crimes. By the time he was fifteen, young Hongjoong had been behind bars eight times for mostly arson, theft, vandalism, and assault. Reform schools did nothing to “cure” him. The officers there, mean and wicked as they were, could not understand how the little boy with the dark red hair didn’t feel pain. In fact, whenever one of them hit him, they’re the ones who felt it.

That’s when Hongjoong learned his special ability: Transference. When he returned home from a stint in prison, he told Aro this. Hongjoong still remembered the terror on her face when she saw him put a kitchen knife to his wrist.

That’s when Seonghwa, sixteen and dressed in the finery of a French nobleman, came to collect him.

Your faint yawn pulled him from his memories. He laid there and watched you gradually shift from your dreams into reality. Hongjoong never felt or understood love before. Until Seonghwa, he didn’t know what that meant or felt like. He’d known nothing but cold, harsh anger and disdain. Only with Seonghwa, and eventually San, did he understand love and loving in return. He never imagined feeling that with anyone else. Yet, when he saw you, naked and trembling at his soft touch, he felt it blossom in his chest. Nobody other than his brothers made him feel whole. He didn’t understand it at the time; he still doesn’t, but he doesn’t question it anymore. The empty space in his heart belongs to you now.

“Morning,” you said, voice hoarse from sleep.

“Morning,” he replied, kissing your cheek.

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t feel like getting up yet.”

He wanted to look at you a little longer. Even in the dimness of his bedroom, he still made out your face. “Don’t you work today?” you asked him.

“Always.”

The mere thought of the lower dungeons sent a shiver through him. He hated the cold down there. The tunnels only remained warm because of the volcanic vents underneath the stone floors, a luxury given to the jailors and not the prisoners. He much rather preferred the warmth of your body than the chill of his dungeon. But, he knew he couldn’t shirk his responsibilities, Seonghwa had taught him that.

“Stay,” you whispered, kissing him softly. “Stay with me today.”

“I would if I could, Pet.”

Even without your collar, he still called you ‘Pet’. He couldn’t see himself calling you anything other than affectionate pet names. You’d become too precious. Sometimes, he wondered how things might have been if he’d known you before. Would he have gone down that destructive path if he had your warm touch to soothe him? Would he have suffered lonely nights if he held you in his arms? He didn’t know. He didn’t like entertaining the ‘what ifs’.

“Not even for a little bit?” you asked, taking his hand to put on your chest. “You didn’t touch me last night.”

He hadn’t for a while. Not because you didn’t arouse him anymore. In fact, you are one of the few things that did.

“Is something wrong?”

Hongjoong stared at his hand on your breast. Normally, he’d be fondling and kissing you deeply, not caring about the consequences. But, today he couldn’t find it in him. Today was a ‘hollow day’. He rolled onto his back, staring up into the dark canopy of his bed. The wooden posters of his bed, molded snakes coiling around them, connected into a point at the top. His eyes followed them over and over.

“Hongjoong?”

“I’m fine,” he said, though it did not sound convincing.

“No, you’re not. Is it me?”

“Never.”

“Then what is it?”

‘I was thinking about my terrible childhood and how you’re one of the few people who matter to me.’ It sounded stupid when he thought about it. “Just tired, that’s all,” he said, stretching and yawning. “I really don’t want to go down there. It’s cold.”

He rolled out of bed before you pressed him further. Hongjoong did not want to talk about his mother or the letter she’d sent yesterday. He would’ve torn it apart if Seonghwa hadn’t opened it first.

“Then stay,” you said, your hand sliding up under the back of his shirt. Not a sexual touch, but a comforting one. Fingernails traced the small part of his back in idle circles, keeping him grounded beside you. “You’re a freaking duke, Hongjoong. What are they going to do? Fire you?”

He snorted a laugh. In truth, the dungeon masters cannot do much to him in particular. The higher a demon is in society, the less consequences they face. He couldn’t get away with murder, but he could get away with missing a day of work. But, Hongjoong couldn’t stay home today. If he’s in the lower dungeons, then he won’t be home when she arrives. If he isn’t home, she won’t stick around.

‘Mother is coming to visit. She says she needs you for something. I don’t know, it doesn’t say.’

“It’s my responsibility,” he said over his shoulder. “I have to go.”

“Well, can I come with you then?”

He turned to look at you, “What?”

“Yeah,” you scooted closer to his side of the bed. “I’d like to go with you.”

This didn’t sound like you. When he mentioned you coming to the dungeons with him, you’d look disgusted. Yet, now you’re in his bed asking to join him. Hongjoong turned to look at you, seeing the softness in your eyes. You know he’s hollow. He doesn’t know how you do, but you do. Maybe you don’t know either. Seonghwa told him certain people have connections they can’t explain. That might be what you two have.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s not a fancy place.”

“I don’t mind.”

He laughed, “You?” He laid across you, trapping you underneath him and said, “The one who gets all squeamish when she sees blood?”

“I don’t get ‘squeamish’ at blood,” you defended. “Women see blood way more than men do. It’s all the gore and torture and stuff that’s gross.”

“And there’s plenty and more of that where I work.”

“I know, but,” you gazed over his face for a moment, much like how Seonghwa does, “I haven’t seen you much lately. You’re always working.”

He felt guilty about that. His brothers made time for you: coming to see you at lunch, taking you out on dates at night or spending time in your room or the greenhouse. Hongjoong tried doing the same, but sometimes he didn’t have it in him. His hollow days became more frequent when he didn’t have the thin, minty elixir that balanced him out. Yunho told him the apothecary ran out of mint leaves, and wouldn’t have them for another week. This coupled with a visit from his mother had Hongjoong swallowed up by his sadness.

“I want to be with you as much as I want to be with San or Seonghwa,” you told him, not shuffling when he moved up your body. “I want to take care of you too.”

That sentence usually sparked a fire inside his loins, but not today. Hollow days never involved sex. “I know, pet,” he said, kissing your lips. Nothing tasted or smelled as sweet as you. He hoped his mother never saw you. He refused to let her ruin anything he loved. “Sure,” he finally said, “You can tag along this one time.”

He gave you one final kiss before the door opened. “Good morning, sir,” Yunho said, walking by the bed to open the curtains. Bright sunlight shone into the room, burning his eyes as they adjusted to the light. “I suggest you get dressed quickly.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, blinking his eyes and rubbing them.

“Your mother is here.”

Every muscle in his body turned stiff. “What? Already?”

“Yes,” the butler nodded, facing him. “She arrived a few minutes ago. Your brothers have been told, and Master Seonghwa is meeting with her now.”

“Your mom’s here?” he heard you ask.

He lifted himself from his position over you and sat on the edge again. She never came this early. Mistress Youngmi didn’t like rising early. She also rarely visited Hell anymore. She said she detested the stench of the city or the uncouth demons that lived there. Youngmi always considered herself above everyone else.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “She wrote and said she’d be stopping by.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” you sat up in bed, “I can meet her too.”

“I don’t want you to meet her,” he replied.

“Why? You know my mom. Why can’t I know yours?”

“Because she's a vicious bitch,” he snapped, irritation settling into his chest. “She’s a parasite that infects and sucks the life out of everything around her. Even Lilith doesn’t like her.” He looked over at you, “My mother is a narcissist who sees her children as nuisances. She only comes around when she wants something from one of us.”

When she wants something from him specifically. Much like you, things hadn’t ended happily the last time he’d seen her.

‘My sisters need your life’s blood in order to keep serving myself and your father.’

She loved those grotesque witches more than her own offspring. “I don’t…I don’t want her infecting you too.”

To be honest, once his mother learned who your grandmother was, she’d proceed with more caution. Even if she did think highly of herself, even the dumbest demon knew not to mess with Lilith.

“If she’s not happy, nobody can be happy.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows about me anyway,” you told him, rubbing his back. “There’s no point in trying to keep me a secret. I’ll go with you.”

“If you insist…”

Hongjoong went to his bathroom, forcing himself to clean up even if the hollowness weighed him down. You came in after, shedding your clothes and stepping into a prepared bath, he didn’t notice much. He knew you sensed his sadness, and didn’t know how to cure it. He wished he knew himself. Hongjoong tried giving a reassuring forehead kiss, but you still didn’t believe his muttered ‘I’m fine’.

“How are we today, sir?” Yunho asked, placing a tea tray on a table.

“Could be better,” he said, walking into his closet to pick out a shirt. She’ll expect him to wear proper clothes like his brothers. He picked up his torn, altered Sex Pistols t-shirt from the rack. “Has Andris called?”

“I’m sorry, he hasn’t. I’ve sent one of the footmen to his shop to get an update. As per usual, I added a bit of whiskey to the coffee. I know it is not a proper replacement-”

“-Better to be numb than hollow, Yunho.”

He pulled the white sleeveless shirt over his torso, and picked distressed black denims to go with it. If Youngmi considered him a child, then he’d act and dress the part for her. He took a sip of the coffee, tasting the whiskey in the richness, and felt it warm his body. Jumping into the tight jeans, he’d been sliding a studded belt through the loops when San appeared in the doorway.

“Where’s YN?” he asked.

“In her dressing room,” he answered. “She says you’re taking her to the dungeons today.”

“She asked,” he shrugged.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Not really, but she insisted and I want to spend more time with her.”

“Is it really quality time if she’s sitting in a corner while you torture people?”

“Like I said, she asked.”

San remained silent. He noticed his tailored three-piece suit, and thought of how suffocated he’d feel in that. Hongjoong wondered how awkward it must be to walk into the stone, ancient arena’s common area in a 1950’s suit. Then again, time periods blended together in Hell. Hongjoong ruffled up his hair, letting it hang in front of his face before he picked up an eyeliner pencil.

“Yunho says the apothecary doesn’t have your mint in stock,” he said, walking around the dressing room aimlessly.

“He said he might have it next week.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not.” He took another sip of his spiked coffee with hopes of feeling numb, “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you should take YN with you today. Just take a day off and stay here,” San suggested. “There’s nothing wrong with a mental health day.”

“I said I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”

“So, you’re not dreading going to work because of all the movement and crap you have to do there?” he asked, eyeing Hongjoong’s shirt collection. “You’re up to socializing today? Having to use up the last bit of battery in you to make it through the day?”

“Yup.” He held down his lower lid and applied the eyeliner.

“And this coffee is regular coffee, right?” San opened the carafe Yunho left behind and sniffed it. “And not spiked with whiskey at all?”

“It was his idea. Not mine.”

San came to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder, “You know we’re here for you.”

“I know.”

“She’ll only be here for five minutes tops,” he said. “Just give her what she wants, then go do something with YN. Maybe take her into the city on a breakfast date or to the movies or something. Do something with her that isn’t breaking a person to pieces.”

“I have to work.”

“No, you don’t. You want to go to escape the hollowness. Torturing other people to relieve your own sadness doesn’t do anything but make it worse. You know that. Stay home today.”

San didn’t get it. Digging his knives into prisoners, listening to their tortured screams, distracted him. When he's working, he doesn't have to think about all the pain inside him. He'd be too busy for the hollowness to drown him. Hongjoong felt agitated about work, but knew that staying home made it worse.

“Come on,” San said when Hongjoong did not answer him. “Don’t take her there. You know she only asked because she can tell there’s something up with you. You don’t want her to see how you get when you’re in the heat of it. It’ll scare her. Shit, it scares me.”

Hongjoong rubbed his face, an irritated groan covered by his palms. He knew San was right. Even if you put up a tough front, the dungeons would sicken and frighten you. The only one allowed to be traumatized in the keep is him.

“She’s not going to let me stay,” he said, running his hands through his hair.

“Mom?”

“She’ll want me to go with her. She tells me the blood needs to be given, not taken.”

“Is it really ‘giving’ if you’re forced to go?”

“I guess?”

A rocky cliff at the edge of an old forest became the meeting place for his mother’s followers. Hongjoong thought of the open waves crashing into the jagged rocks below, and the sea air blowing through the tall trees. The cauldron often stood on a stone platform right where the moonlight shone. She never told him what the ritual did or what the potion was for. He only found out when Seonghwa told him.

In order for witches to maintain their immortality and immunity, they needed the blood of three beings: a human to keep their youth, a demon with the power of transference to keep them immortal, and a cambion to bind both together. She typically lured or paid demons handsomely for the ritual.

“Why can’t she just have another kid?” he groaned, his body heavy and fatigued. He had no desire to go anywhere or do anything. “It’s not like she’d have to care for it.”

“She says having kids gets in the way of her life,” he rolled his eyes. “Cunt.”

Hongjoong snorted, making himself finish the other eye. “Finish up here,” San said, patting his back, “And come downstairs. She’ll get more annoyed the longer you keep her waiting.”

And when Youngmi gets annoyed, it becomes everyone else’s problem. Hongjoong pulled on necklaces, bracelets and rings before deciding he looked suitable enough. He took a final gulp of his coffee, letting the whiskey settle into his stomach before nibbling on a biscuit. When he reentered his bedroom, you walked in at the same time. A tight black sweater and the blue high waisted skirt shaped out your gorgeous curves, and you’d worn minimal makeup and the long snake earrings he’d bought you. He gave a weak smile, kissing your cheek before bringing you into his arms.

“I decided not to go to work today,” he told you, burying his face in your hair. “I’ll probably end up going somewhere with my mom, so work’s out of the question.”

“That’s fine,” you said in his shoulder. “Do you want me to bring Linette to your room and you can have some fun with us?”

“Tempting, but no.”

“Maybe you can play your guitar and I can sing for you? You like doing that, don’t you?”

“Not in the mood. I…” he held you a bit tighter, inhaling your scent. “Let’s stay in bed together today. I can have Yunho bring the TV here and we can hang out.”

You pulled away from him, looking into his face. “We can do whatever you want to do,” you said. “I’ll tell Jongho to get us some snacks, and we’ll be a couple of couch potatoes together.”

“After my mom.”

“After your mom.”

He looked forward to it already. Taking your hand, he led you out of his room and down the stairs. He found his brothers in the sitting room where servants laid out a small cheese and meat spread with spirits. Hongjoong had no appetite for the food. The woman sitting on his couch ruined any possibility of breakfast. Youngmi, wearing a long black and red dress, sat on his couch with a glass of wine in her hand. She’d draped black strings of onyxes around her large horns, the strings connected by a large gem. He wondered who paid for that. When she looked over at him, her expression delighted him.

“Hongjoong, must you insist upon dressing like a child all the time?” she said with distaste. “Look at your brothers: well-dressed gentlemen. I can’t imagine what people must think when they see a Duke walking around like he rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he saw.”

“Don’t, Mother. You know what too much thinking does to your head,” he replied. “What do you want?”

She didn’t answer right away. Youngmi’s eyes landed on you beside him. “Ah, so this is the one that’s been living here,” she said, unimpressed. “I would take her with us, but I already have a cambion lined up for the ritual.”

“You wouldn’t want this one, Mother,” he said, already feeling the animosity between them.

“Why is that? Because she’s your little plaything?”

“Because Princess Lilith will be absolutely wroth with anger,” said Seonghwa, cross-legged and munching on a cracker. “She wouldn’t like the idea of a no-name demon mistress utilizing one of her granddaughters in a blood ritual.”

“She’s one of Lilith’s?” Youngmi asked in surprise. “Impossible!”

“It’s very possible,” he replied. “Plus, our beloved doesn’t particularly like doing things people tell her to do, so I wouldn’t risk it.”

“What’s your name, girl-”

“-My lady-” Hongjoong corrected her. “I think you’re forgetting your place, Youngmi.”

She glared at him, “What’s your name?”

“I’m YN,” you replied disdainfully.

“YN, a name as pretty as you,” she simpered. “Your father is going to love her.”

“As if he’d ever see her.”

“He’ll have to when he shows up.”

“Dad’s coming here?” Hongjoong turned to Seonghwa, who grimaced.

“I just got the letter,” he said, nodding to a paper on the coffee table. “He said he’s coming for a special ‘visit’.”

“Great,” he gave a mirthless laugh, “First her, and now Dad.”

He sat on San’s couch, head in his hands. “I don’t see why you are so distressed, Hongjoong,” his mother said. “The Eternal ritual is done every ten years. You must’ve known this was coming.”

“A strangely short timespan for witches to recharge their powers, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning back on the couch. “Don’t you have another demon for this sort of thing?”

“I normally do,” she said, “But my usual volunteer got himself banned from the living world so now I need you.”

He grabbed a tea cup and one of the cheese knives. All he did was think of her, and with a single slice of his index finger, his mother hissed.

“Ugh, you little bastard,” she glared, holding her bleeding finger.

“Sorry,” he said innocently, “I can’t control it sometimes.” He squeezed a few droplets into the cup, then passed it to her. “There’s your blood,” he said, wrapping his finger in a napkin. The gash along his finger didn’t hurt, but it certainly bled. “Have a nice time. See you in another fifteen years.”

“You know that’s not how that works,” she scolded.

“Find a way to make it work,” he retorted, staunching the blood from the wound.

“The demon has to give it willingly.”

“You know, San posed a pretty good question to me earlier: is it really ‘willingly’ if you’re forcing me to go up there?”

“It’s good enough,” she said. “It’s not like it’ll take long. Besides, when we’re done, you can have your pick of the ladies there. They’re all eager to see you again, especially after this year’s mass.”

“Your witches are cute when they’re in human form,” he remarked. “I closed my eyes with most of them even then. Besides,” he grinned at you, “I have something much better now.”

“Enough of this nonsense,” Youngmi said irritably. “The longer I spend here arguing with you, the more moonlight I’m losing up there.”

“Money.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Pay me and I’ll go.”

“You’re already wealthy, Hongjoong-”

“-Don’t care. Money and I get to bring YN with me. I think I’d enjoy pounding her underneath a blood moon,” he winked at you, “It’d be special for sure.”

“Fine,” she snapped, “Fifteen-hundred gold and you can bring the girl.”

“Sixteen. I like even numbers.”

“So be it,” she grunted, slamming down her wine cup. “Why couldn’t I be like the other mistresses and have sons who don’t give me headaches?” she ranted as she stood, walking out of the room. “Patricia’s boys never give her so much grief.”

“That’s because she sees them once every two hundred years,” Hongjoong called after her, “Maybe she likes even numbers too.” Once she’d left, Hongjoong checked on his finger. The skin nearly knitted back together, he grabbed a new napkin and stood up. “Looks like pancakes are going to have to wait, pet. We have a ritual to attend.”

“A ritual?”

“I’ll see you two later,” he said to his brothers.

“Don’t make a scene, Hongjoong,” warned Seonghwa. “Just give her the blood, and come back home. It’s not worth making a fuss.”

“And then put up with Dad all night.”

“Dad’s not all bad,” said Seonghwa. “Alright, he’s just as absent in our lives as her, but at least he’s fun.”

“He also brings gifts when he comes,” said San.

“Yeah, to make up for not being around.”

“Still,” he shrugged, “Better than pure disdain. You’re also getting sixteen hundred out of it, so it’s not all that bad.”

“You’ll have me with you,” you told him, coming to his side. You examined his finger. You winced at the split skin, “Gosh, doesn’t that hurt?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “I might not be able to dig into people’s minds or lift them over my head, but I can make them bleed without touching them. That's why she wants me to go so badly.” He then kissed your lips, and said, “You being there will make it so much better.”

Your smile filled his hollowness for a few seconds. “I still want those pancakes when we come back,” you said with a small pout.

“You’ll get them,” he promised, “And a bit more if we’re up for it.”

“Hongjoong!” his mother screeched from the entry hall.

“Come on,” he slid his good hand into yours, “Before she comes back in here shrieking.”

The both of you walked outside where he saw Jongho waiting by the door. “Mistress,” he said, “Your mother just sent a messenger. She wants to know when you’re coming to Eden. You have lessons with your Aunt Gaia.”

“Tomorrow,” you answered as you passed him. “Tell her I had something unexpected come up.”

“Yes, Mistress. I assume I tell Cook to hold off on the breakfast?”

“That too,” you said over your shoulder.

“As you wish.”

Walking down the steps into the sunlight, he chuckled. “Aren’t you becoming a real Mistress…”

“I’m only being myself,” you shrugged. “I don’t mind doing stuff on my own, but I won’t complain if someone offers to do it for me.”

You took to your status easily. He imagined the life you lived above resembled the one down here, minus the CEO position and office jobs. Hongjoong couldn’t imagine working a normal desk job. It sounded dull. He saw the corporate slaves in the official buildings, typing at computers and answering phone calls. Like Mingi said multiple times: demons might scorn humans, but they certainly mimicked them well. They’d adapted a monarchy and class system; they’d rebuilt the barren wasteland of Hell into the flourishing city of Inferno; rather than live in caves or dens, they’d constructed houses and buildings. The volcanic rivers and lakes became utilized for a heat system underneath the city streets. Hongjoong saw it as they stepped into a car and began riding away. Demons of all generations and classes picked up culture and fashion from various periods, causing a period clash that molded together perfectly.

“I remember the first time I came to Hell,” he said out loud, gazing out the window. “I was seventeen and fresh from the living world. My dad threw this huge party for me in his mansion. I’d never been around so many demons before; I thought I’d never fit in with them. Everyone acted so sophisticated and refined, while I was a scruffy street urchin in fancy clothes.”

“Were you scared?”

He thought about it for a moment, “Kind of? I didn’t know anyone besides Seonghwa, and San hadn’t turned seventeen yet so he wasn’t there. I hardly knew my dad and my mom even less.”

“You see him more than her?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’re not close but he invites us to holiday gatherings and we see him during black masses. I’d rather take his company over hers any time.”

“Is that why you’ve been so moody this morning?” you asked him.

“Maybe.”

You wouldn’t get it; not many people did. He thought about the elixir again and wondered how long it takes to get some stupid leaves? He considered asking you to plant some, but the idea left him feeling sick. He didn’t like talking about it. If he talked about it, that meant his problem was real and not in his imagination. He only started taking the stuff when Seonghwa insisted. Even though he enjoyed rebelling against his brother from time to time, he knew Seonghwa meant well.

“You know you can tell me, right?” you said, breaking into his thoughts again.

“I know.”

“Then why don’t you?”

You’re likely not used to seeing him this way. He’s always been the fun, rebellious, handsome brother who fucks you until you’re a incoherent mess. Today, he’d rather be wrapped in blankets and staring into the void.

“Because I’m fine.”

“Hongjoong…”

“I said I’m fine, alright?” he snapped, a tightness forming in his chest. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m good, okay?”

“I’m only worried about you,” you stuck yourself into your side of the backseat, not touching him anymore. “But, whatever.”

He’d hurt you, and he hated himself for it. Hongjoong thought to reach out to you, but he stopped himself. Out of his pocket, he withdrew a flask. In a single swig, the smooth brandy went down his throat sharply. He knew you’d seen him. Mingi, the driver today, saw him in the rearview mirror. Why did people have to stare so much? Why can’t they leave him alone?

“We’re here, sir,,” Mingi’s deep voice broke the silence.

He moved to get out, but Hongjoong opened his own door. He hadn’t intended to slam it. When he looked up, he saw they’d parked in front of the transport station. While trains ran throughout the city, taking people from point A to point B, a special section remained reserved for trips into the living world. He spotted his mother standing near the gates, and he tucked his flask into his back pocket. You walked past him, hardly giving him a glance and likely regretting coming along, and he wanted to take your hand. He wanted to apologize.

“She hates me,” he told Mingi, who came up beside him.

“Hate is a strong word, sir,” he replied, watching you walk towards Youngmi. “She’s just ticked off, that’s all. She really cares about you, Master. We all do.”

Deep down, he knew that.

“Quit dawdling,” his mother called as he approached, “We don’t have all day.”

He considered taking even longer just to annoy her. The blood moon only lasts so long. His eyes met yours, and you looked away from him.

‘Please, don’t look away. I need you. I need you so badly,’ he thought.

“Hongjoong-” his mother started.

“-I fucking heard you,” he remarked at her, pushing past one of her Imps towards the transport gates, “Let’s get this over with.”

He reached the portal gate before the rest of them. At a kiosk, he punched in his name and chose the destination. A white ticket shot out of the slot, and he nearly tore it apart removing it. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be in his bed, holding you and wishing he never had to wake up again. Yet, here he was, scanning his ticket on the gate to let himself through. He felt several people behind him, their presence irking him the longer he noticed them. Naturally, his mother walked ahead of him to the black and green vortex inside a stone archway.

“I’m doing your stupid ritual and then leaving,” he told her one final time. “You have your little minions wire me my money after.”

“You better watch your tone, boy,” she retorted, “Or I’ll-”

“-What? Ignore me for another ten years? I wish you would.”

“You’re just like your father, you know that?”

“Better than being like you.”

He walked through the portal before her, enjoying the weightlessness in the dark void. It nearly suffocated him before the scent of pine wood and crisp winter air reached him. When he came out the other side, Hongjoong took in deep gulps of air. All around him, he saw a dark, sparse forest of thin trees and leafy grounds. Time in the living world and demon world flipped each other: Hell’s day time was a human’s night time. Seonghwa would have some scientific explanation for it that he’d tune out when it got too complicated.

“The breeze is so wonderful,” Youngmi inhaled deeply. “Hell never has any seasons.”

“It’s Hell. It’s supposed to be hot.”

Youngmi rolled her eyes, “Follow me.”

Hongjoong looked over his shoulder to you next to Mingi, taking deep breaths. He should’ve been the one explaining and preparing you. He felt like a total dick now.

“Hongjoong!”

If she called his name one more time, he’d find the sharpest stick he could and stab himself with it. Then, he could watch her bleed for once. Hongjoong moved along with her Imps, the small child-like demons who live to serve. He never particularly liked them. Their uncanny appearance to children freaked him out, but not as much as the witches up ahead. In the darkness of the forest, he saw a bright orange and yellow glowing between them. He could hear mad cackling, cheering and saw shadows dance around the large fire.

“The Grand High Witch approaches!” one of the Imps said in his gravelly voice, calling the witches’ attention. “All hail the Grand High Witch!”

“Hail the Grand High Witch!”

Oh, she loved this. Hongjoong did not need to see her face as she strutted up to the clearing with her head up high. He wished he could smell the ocean, but the smoke and fire overpowered it. When he pushed past the clearing, he hoped none of them noticed him. However, they did.

“Master!” one witch hissed, bowing awkwardly to him. It was awkward for her because her hunched back made it difficult. Her pale skin was marked by black holes, and her black lips were cracked and hung open. “Master, you came! You came!”

“We’re delighted to see you, Master,” another said. When he looked, he saw whom he called ‘The Twins’. Two women stuck together by the waist, their long mottled claws reached out to him with their black eyes full of lust and longing. “Yes,” said the one on the left, “So delighted.”

“Um, yes, evening ladies.”

They simpered at his awkward greeting. A witch with an elongated face and a long crooked nose grinned at him with rotten teeth, while another stood at hip height reaching out for him. His stomach churned seeing them. He wished they’d use their human forms.

“Who is she?!” a very tall witch, bony and stooped, pointed at you. “We already have a cambion!”

“She’s with me,” Hongjoong grunted at her, moving over to take your hand. He saw the shock in your eyes at the sight of the dozens of witches in front of you. "Stick close to me,” he assured you, knowing your fear outweighed your resentment towards him. Your fingers sliding between his kept him from drifting. “It won’t take long. I promise.”

The crowd of witches parted as he guided you in front of him. They hissed and snarled at you. One snapped her large jaws, laughing when you flinched.

“She looks tasty…” a witch with spikes coming from her head came to your side. It wasn’t her who spoke, it was the face in her throat. “Scrumptious.”

“I can smell your fear, little girl,” said another, her head similar to a skeleton head with skin, “You’ll make a fine feast.”

“Back off,” Hongjoong growled, baring his canine teeth and flaring the crimson in his eyes. He didn’t bring out his true form very often, but he would for you. “Before I shove you all in the fire!”

As he guided you by the waist, Hongjoong noticed your soft skin gradually turned hard. When he put his full hand on it, he felt the roughness of tree bark. It started at your waist and went up your sides. Armor? He knew you’d started taking lessons with Rhea, who taught you combat and defense skills. He didn’t think you’d gotten that far already.

“We’ll only take a bite!”

A witch with horns all around her head moved forward before a silver blade reached her throat. Mingi, stone-faced and cold, held his blade to her neck.

“Take a bite and I take your life,” he said, deep black eyes glaring at her as his skin slowly turned a light red. “Understand, witch?”

“Ye-yes, Master.”

Finally reaching the front of the crowd, Hongjoong saw a large black cauldron on top of a stone platform. The first time he’d seen it, he recalled the putrid scent coming up from the boiling pot. He remembered the heat against his skin, the steam burning him as she hung his hand over the potion. Hongjoong gripped your waist without meaning to, knowing he’d have to do that again. Looking into the sky, he saw a full moon hanging in the pitch blackness. Soon, an eclipse will occur that will turn the moon from its bright white to deep red. In the rays of its light, the ritual will be performed.

“Daughters!” his mother raised her hands for silence, “Tonight, we gather underneath our sacred moon to fortify and strengthen your powers! With the blood of humans, you maintain your youth. With the blood of a half-breed, you maintain your physical form! And with the blood of a demon of transference,” she glanced over at him, “You maintain your immortality.”

The witches around him hissed, clicking and growling their approval. “Saia, Beatrice!” his mother called to a witch nearby, “Bring out the human first!”

“Oh my god…” he heard you breathe.

“Please! Please, let me go! Please!”

She must’ve been nineteen or twenty-years-old, he deduced. Long blond hair that shone in the firelight, her porcelain skin and slim body made her a perfect candidate. Two witches dragged her over to the cauldron, the woman kicking and screaming between them. Hongjoong watched them force her up onto a step while his mother withdrew a long, curved knife. She began speaking in Latin, a language Hongjoong never bothered to learn, but context told him everything.

“They’re not…” you whispered to him, “They’re not going to-to kill her?”

“That’s exactly what they’re going to do.”

“Stop! Please! Someone help me!” the woman shrieked, tears streaming down her cheeks as the witches held her over the cauldron.

The steam and smell made her turn her head, but one of them forced her to face forward. Her terror did not last long. In the last few words, Youngmi put the blade across the girl’s long neck. You turned away right as blood shot out of the wound and into the cauldron. He held you close, your scent overpowering the stench around him.

“Now,” his mother said, “The cambion!”

“Let me go, you bitches!”

A man this time. No doubt they lured him with their disguised beauty. Like with the woman, they held him over the cauldron as his mother said the second verse. A bit stronger, he managed to break free of their hold, but only for a moment. Slamming his head onto the cauldron’s rim, Youngmi took the chance to slit his throat as well. The potion glowed a deep scarlet color, which will only get darker with his blood added.

“You stay here,” he told you gently.

“No, Hongjoong,” you pleaded, “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured you, kissing your forehead.

“And finally, my daughters, the blood of a demon!”

One witch tried grabbing him, but he shrugged her off. Hongjoong really wanted to know how a demon gets banned from the living world, and why she didn’t find another. Climbing the steps, he took his mother’s knife and stood next to the cauldron. Six-year-old Hongjoong screamed, cried and begged his mother not to do it. He’d never felt such terror before. But, two-hundred-and-sixty-nine year old Hongjoong knew better now. While his mother and her followers chanted the last stanza of the incantation, he quickly slid the blade along his injured finger to reopen it. The witch across him hissed as her own finger split open. When the first few drops fell into the potion, the smoke billowed thick with the scent of blood. He coughed as it entered his lungs and plugged up his nose. He squeezed his blood into it, then stepped back from the cauldron.

His mother waved her hands around the pot, finishing off the spell while he came back to you. Mingi offered him a handkerchief for his finger, but he only had eyes for you. He saw the terror in your eyes, though you did your best not to show it. You kept yourself from staring at any witch for too long; he saw you already figuring out an escape route as he saw your midsection and shoulders thicken. Daughters of Eden didn’t particularly need metal armor, even if the guards wore it.

“Hey,” he cupped your cheek with his clean hand, “Don’t be scared.”

"Are you serious right now?”

“Okay, yeah I know, but we’re going home,” he assured you. “They won’t hurt you with me around.”

“Drink, my daughters! Come and drink! Receive your blessings!”

Witches flocked to the platform, taking out cups from their cloaks. Hongjoong held you to his chest, about to turn you around to go home when another voice rang out.

“Ladies! How lovely to see you all here!”

A man in a long coat with a vest and ruffled shirt came out of the shadows. Black curls hung around his face and over his red eyes. People told him that his brothers all looked like Asmodeus in one way or another. Seonghwa had his long curls; San had his golden brown skin, and Hongjoong had his narrow nose. The witches all turned at his voice, delighted by the sight of their master, and bowed to him at once. It was only Youngmi who glared at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, ladling potion into a witch’s cup.

“I was told you’d kidnapped my son,” Asmodeus said, walking further into the clearing. He stared around the semi-circle overlooking the cliffs. “This is a great meeting place,” he whistled his approval. “I think we’ll have our next black mass in these woods. They’re remote, old, and there’s plenty of camping space around here.”

“Get out,” Youngmi hissed.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” his father groaned. “I didn’t come here for any of you, even though…” he walked over to the twins, touching each of their long chins as they sighed dreamily, “I wouldn’t mind partaking while I’m here. How’re my favorite twins doing?”

“Do you have to ruin everything, Asmodeus?” she snapped.

“Hey, you’re the one that took my boy for this strange ritual of yours,” he quipped. He turned from the twins to see Hongjoong nearby. “There you are, Joongie!” he walked over to him, and they clasped hands before hugging. “There’s my handsome boy,” he patted Hongjoong’s back, smiling warmly. He spotted Hongjoong’s bleeding finger, “It doesn’t hurt, right?”

“It hurt someone, just not me,” he replied, which amused his father.

“Good boy, good boy.” His eyes landed on you, and the flirtation turned on again. “Hello there,” he said, drawing closer to you, “Aren’t you a lovely one? Are you new? I don’t see any rot in you at all.” He caressed your cheek, but you moved away. This only made the demon prince chuckle, “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I don’t bite…unless you ask me to.”

“She’s with me, Dad,” Hongjoong got in between you both, “And she’s your great niece.”

Clarity came to him right away, “She’s Andromeda’s girl? Well, how nice to finally meet you. Your grandmother didn’t shut up about you when I visited yesterday. You really are a beauty,” he moved around Hongjoong towards you. “You should come visit my mansion sometime. I can show you a few tricks of my own.”

“What’s up, Dad?” he stood in front of you again. He knew with enough eye-contact and persuasion, you’d become putty in his father’s hands. “I thought you’d be at the keep.”

“I was, and your brothers told me you’d be here. Listen, son,” he fixed his coat as he said, “I’m having a gathering at my place this weekend.”

“For what?”

He glimpsed over at you as he said, “The Passionate Heart Ball.” He walked around Hongjoong again to you, “It’s an important celebration to us demons of lust, you see. It happens at the first full moon of spring. It’s when our powers are the strongest,” he played with the end of a stray hair, “Where our seed is most potent and we become…truly primal. You could ask your mates all about it: there’s lots of wine, food and fucking going on there.”

“That sounds…interesting, I guess.”

“You’re in Hell, darling. There’s no way you’ve never had a cock before,” he said, voice low with lust. “Not if you’ve been hanging around my boys. Oh…” he exhaled deeply, “I bet your orgasms sound sweet. I’d love to hear them myself-”

“-Seriously, Dad?” Hongjoong interrupted. “We’ll go to the damn ball. You know where to send the details.”

“Don’t be greedy, boy,” he said over his shoulder. “You get to fuck this one whenever you like. Isn’t that right, angel?”

“That’s right.”

Hongjoong froze. Your voice, breathy and low, told him everything he needed to know.

“How about we ditch this place and go somewhere more private, hm?” his father’s hands traced your shoulder up to your collar, “Where I can see just how beautiful girls from Eden are.”

“I don’t think you want to do that, Uncle,” you said, your own voice flirty and sultry. “I’ve been told my kisses alone can be pretty dangerous.”

“Is that right?” he leaned in closer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Your sons can go for hours with a kiss or two from me.”

“Ha, I don’t need a kiss to do that,” he said. “I’m lust personified, honey. I can fuck pretty things like you for days.”

“Days? That’s excessive, no?”

“Excess is what I love. Just like how much I love gorgeous women with gorgeous tits.”

“Dad!” Hongjoong felt anger flare in his chest, and he pulled you away from him. “Come on, seriously? My mate?”

“Mate?”

“No harm in a little romp,” his father reasoned, hands in the air. “She must be special if even my Hongjoong doesn’t want to share her with me. How many of these did we take together during mass? Ten? Eleven?”

“I lost count after six, if I’m honest.”

His father laughed, distracted by the joke. He rung an arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders, “Bring her to the ball.”

“She’s not a lust demon.”

“I don’t care. Your other siblings will be bringing their pleasure slaves and mates. She can be your plus-one.” He looked back over at you, “Wear something easy to take off. You won’t be clothed very long.”

You smiled shyly, turning away at his forwardness. Hongjoong scowled at his father, who gave you a wink. “See you at the ball, son.”

He gave another hug before walking over to a group of witches. Hongjoong scoffed his disgust, moving towards you. “Let’s get out of here before he starts a full blown orgy,” Hongjoong said, but then he saw your expression. Intrigue filled your pretty eyes, scanning over his father’s athletic, slim body. “Really, babe? My dad? Your great uncle?”

“What?” you groaned, “He’s hot. Sorry I’m not made of stone. You don’t mind the incest when it’s us and your brothers.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“We actually love you, whereas my dad will pound into you for a few hours and then forget your name.”

“If you love me,” you put the handkerchief to his bleeding hand, “Why won’t you tell me what’s really bugging you?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Then help me understand,” you said.

He saw witches who’d drunk their potion moving over to his father. The man truly slept with anyone or anything. It disgusted him, and he liked most things. Hongjoong didn’t speak as he took you away from the frivolity into the forest. Out of their notice, he guided you to a spot where the moonlight still shone on you. If anything made him feel better, it’d be a few minutes alone with you.

“Aren’t we going back to that portal thing?” you asked him, worry in your voice.

“Not right now,” he said.

“Where’s Mingi?”

“Probably still in the clearing. If he’s lucky, one of them turned into a hot girl for him to plug up for a while.”

“Do you always have to be so obscene?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Through a thicket of trees, Hongjoong brought you out of range of the clearing. He leaned against one of the trees, withdrawing his flask to take another swig. The cool breeze went across his hot cheeks to fill his lungs with fresh air. You stood beside him, where you took his flask and drank some yourself.

“There’s days…” he explained, “There’s days where I get this hollow feeling.”

“Hollow?”

“Empty. I can’t enjoy or experience anything because this emptiness sits inside me and takes up space,” he said. “I feel weighed down. I feel useless and unhappy. I start remembering things, and it only makes it worse,” he took the flask back from you and gulped some down. He let you have the last bit of it as he said, “I force myself to do things because I have to, but all I really want to do is stay in bed and let it swallow me whole.”

“I wouldn’t really know anything about that,” you told him, finishing the flask. “It sounds shitty.”

“It is. I normally take this elixir Yunho makes,” he said, “But he hasn’t had the ingredients for it so I’ve sort of been managing without it.”

“And self-medicating,” you added.

“That too.”

“Then coming here must’ve really been rough for you. Your mother is a real piece of work.”

“You don’t even know half of it.”

“You know you have me,” you told him, taking his injured hand. His finger healed up well, so the only thing you did was wipe off the caked blood. “I might not be able to make potions or anything like that to help, but I’m here if you need someone to stay in bed with you.”

“It’s what I wanted to do,” he said, “But then this happened. Now, my dad is here too? I wish I had more whiskey.”

“Your dad doesn’t seem as bad. He’s definitely better than mine.”

“He’s the lesser of two evils for sure.”

“He can’t be all that bad. My dad never invited me to orgies before.”

The both of you shared a glance in the dark, the red moon giving just enough light to see your face. He could hear the orgy beginning right on the other side of the bushes. Your beauty astounded him every time. If anything distracted him from his hollowness, it’d be you and your smile.

“A lot of people have shitty parents,” you said, hands sliding onto his chest. “My dad was a mean sonofabitch who liked hitting women and drinking. My mom tells me it’s because of the war-”

“-Your dad was a veteran?-”

“-Yeah, WW2,” you nodded. “He didn’t talk about it, but when I think about him now, I sort of see it. There'd been times that he seemed there but not there? He sat there physically, but mentally he went somewhere else. My mom told me he became this empty shell when he returned home,” you said. “Is that kind of the same for you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “When I was a kid, I didn’t have Seonghwa’s aristocratic upbringing. I lived in a village with an old witch who’d rather eat me than hug me, and I was left alone a lot.” He let his thumb trace over the necklace you wore today. An opal inlaid with stones, it stood out against your sweater. “I committed crimes. I drank a lot. I went to prison a few times, and that wasn’t exactly a holiday in the Bahamas.”

“You went to prison? How old were you?”

“Eight. Things have drastically changed since then, obviously,” he said. “They didn’t have juvenile prisons back then. You either went to big boy jail or a reform school; both are equally horrible. The only good thing I got out of it was I sort of honed my skills there? I learned I had transference, so whenever an overseer or officer beat me, it hurt them more. They couldn’t explain it. I think it sort of scared them?” Hongjoong didn’t like thinking about the cruel guards and their unusual punishments. “Things only changed when Seonghwa came. I’d killed the witch I lived with and he came to get me. There I had to be a proper gentleman. I had to go to boring lessons where they taught me how to read and write; they dressed me in fancy clothing with too many layers and taught me how to dance and table etiquette. I hated it. It wasn’t me. When I finally came down here, it was a whole new thing. I could be me and nobody could say anything. I didn’t think my hollowness would find me down here, but it did. It did…”

“Which sounds awful,” you said, kissing his lips. The faint sounds of moaning and groaning caught both of you, and you glanced through the bushes. “I can imagine having a dad like that didn’t make things easy.”

“He’s meant to be a demon who can read people’s emotions, but he seemed to never read mine,” he sighed, seeing his dad kissing the siamese twins. “He might not be Dad of the Year, but he still showed more interest in me than he did my brothers.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m the ‘Handsome One’.”

You laughed, “Really?”

He pinched your arm lightly, “What do you mean ‘really’?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” you assured him. “All three of you are handsome. Why does he have a favorite?”

“I’m the most like him, Seonghwa told me once. San is more into athletics and fighting. Seonghwa likes his books, poetry and philosophy. I was the one who liked having weekend orgies, flirting with anything that looked good, and indulged in his interests,” he shrugged. “To him, I’m the attractive brother. At the mass, I was the one he kept inviting to his tent for his private parties. I don’t know if you noticed, but rather than wait for me to come home, he came here.”

“And yet, he can’t tell that something is bothering his favorite son?”

“Nope.”

He turned to see his father tilting his head back as the twins worked him. Witches all around him paired up to engage in their own desires. He noticed his mother mysteriously disappeared. “He’s usually too busy with his own things to notice anything outside of himself.”

“I notice,” you said, and he heard the drop in your voice. “There really isn’t anything I can do to make you feel better?”

He inhaled deep when your hand slid down to his belt buckle. His hands went up your sides where he felt your supple flesh once more. You brought him in for a kiss, and Hongjoong didn’t protest when your tongue tenderly passed his lips. That heady endorphin your kiss brought hit him almost immediately. He pulled your sweater out from under your skirt, and slipped his hands underneath. Your fingers delicately danced over his torso, sliding over the flatness to his chest. Hongjoong gasped softly when your thumbs brushed his nipples. He unclipped your bra, which took your passion up a notch. Leaning against the thick tree trunk, he lifted one leg to his waist to pull your sex to his own.

“No panties,” he groaned between kisses, “Again, pet?”

“I stopped seeing the point,” you giggled, pecking his lips. “You know I love being fucked just as much as you love fucking me.”

He lifted the back of your skirt to grope the soft cheeks that filled his hands. Not a stitch of clothing kept Hongjoong from spreading and squeezing them. He lost himself in you. Your body pressed to his brought on a new feeling that overpowered the hollowness. It took up space in him that made him forget everything that happened. All he wanted was you. The clinking of his belt buckle alone accelerated his arousal, causing him to push you into his bulge more. He could have you just like this, right there in the light of a blood moon. There, he'd have his own special ritual.

His lips broke from yours to groan when you reached into his jeans. Your hand, cold from the climate, shocked his hot muscle. The coolness against the heat had him moving into your hand for more. You glided your hand as he continued kissing down your neck and grabbing your ass. Every sensation he hoped to grab reached him the longer you stroked him. Once he grew hard enough, you pulled him from his boxers to keep rubbing him. This let him lift your shirt and bra over your breasts so he could suck the hard nipples underneath. One hand massaging them, the other reached between your thighs to your slick sex. Your wet clitoris jutted from your folds as if asking to be touched by him; your folds already puffy and wet on his fingers, he had no trouble sliding to your entrance.

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered in a kiss, “Please.”

“As long as you don’t.”

Spinning you around, Hongjoong nearly slammed you into the tree as he kept one leg at his hip. Your eyes closed with one swift push into your heat; the penetration bringing relief to both of you. His hands under your thighs, your arms went around his neck to help keep yourself stable in his grasp. Once inside you, Hongjoong didn’t stop. Lips attached to yours again, he kept a steady stride in each thrust. Even with the burning in his arms and legs, Hongjoong chased after the desperation for release. Putting a hand to your throat, he gently squeezed as he pinned you to the tree and picked up the pace. His balls slapped against your soft ass cheeks; his cock pushed deep through your bumpy walls, their taut squeezes driving him insane.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you said through gritted teeth, strained by his hand on your neck. “Fuck me, Master. Please, fuck me. Use my pussy to cum.”

“I plan to,” he grunted, tucking your skirt into the waistband for glimpses of your full sex. “Just a pretty hole for me to use whenever I want,” he said, watching himself slide in and out of you. “Are these mine?” he asked in a groan, pumping you faster. “Are your holes mine?”

“Yes,” you whined, “Yes, Master. They’re yours.”

You cried when he withdrew, panting as he turned you to face the tree. He forced you into an arch, then shoved himself back into your heat. The smacking of his lower stomach to your ass joined the lewd sounds it created. He watched your fingers dig into the thick tree bark, smiling as you moaned up into the heavens for him. Keeping one hand on your shoulder, he pinned you to the tree as he slapped your ass cheeks. The harsh smacks must be heard even through the bundle of trees and bushes between you two and the clearing. He loved the way you yelped if he smacked particularly hard or in the right place; how your ass bounced as your need for release grew. Hongjoong made deep thrusts that he swore reached right into your stomach and arranged your insides.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

Hongjoong might’ve jumped at his father’s appearance had he not been overcome with your drug. Asmodeus stood a few feet away with the humpback and the horned witch naked and rubbing up and down his body. Hongjoong leaned forward and grabbed your breasts, still pushing and pounding you hard. He heard his father’s low groans, suspecting one witch started filling her mouth with him. Hongjoong turned you sideways, lifted your other leg up and gave him a view of your cunt wrapped around his wet cock.

“Oooh, that’s a nice one,” his father groaned, eyeing where you both met.

“So nice,” he huffed, “And it’s all mine.”

“Yes, it is,” you giggled, hand around the nape of his neck as you stayed completely still. He felt your nails dig into his flesh, the slight pain pushing him further. “All yours.”

Hongjoong pulled out a moment, tapping and sliding himself on your clit. “I can never get enough of this,” he said, loving the sloppy sounds the touch made. “I end up fucking her until I’m empty.”

“As you should with a beauty like that.”

Pushing back in, he lifted your sweater over your breasts more to see them bounce as he fucked you. “And I love emptying you,” you breathed, moving from your position to squat down on the floor, “Especially if you do it in my mouth.”

Hand in your hair, Hongjoong forced himself into your open mouth. You held onto the trunk while he started pushing to your face. He loved your mouth as much as the other holes. Your mouth sucking his tip and shaft the right amount of firmness had Hongjoong trembling in place in minutes. Blinding passion shut his eyes the moment his body stiffened in his clothes. Every suck suddenly became sensitive as he started squirting into your mouth. You elevated it by sliding him to the back of your throat to let him shoot further down. In the faint light, he saw his cum dripping from the sides of your mouth to your chin. When he pulled out, still hard and pulsing, he saw the few strings keeping you connected.

“I’m not empty,” he said, slapping his leaking head on your tongue. “I think you need to fix that or otherwise my dad will think you’re not serving me well. You don’t want the Prince of Lust thinking you’re not making his son happy, right?”

“Of course not,” you replied, stroking him slowly as you licked down to his balls. “I’d hate to leave a bad impression, Master.”

“Ass in the air,” he said, grinding his balls to your mouth for gentle sucks from your lips.

You assumed the position in the dirt, ass up towards him to give him complete control of you. Hands hooked to your skirt’s waistband, he forced you down onto his still hard cock, and used it to guide you along his length.

“Fuck me,” he ordered, smacking your ass. “I’m the master. I’m not doing the work. Fuck me, slut.”

While his father began fingering the horned witch as the other pushed her sex to his crotch, Hongjoong and you fucked on the ground. His father had no idea the effect your saliva had on people. Perhaps even he would regret inviting you once he’s had a taste of you. You kept the same speed until you began shaking and throbbing on him. Hongjoong knelt there and watched you completely spiral in front of him. He didn’t care if his father saw it. Your pussy creaming and coating his dick caused the muscle to vibrate inside you, as he’d done that first night with you. A gift he inherited from his father. This heightened your orgasm, and you became needier.

“Keep going,” you whined, your climax subsiding. “Please, Master. Please?”

“I suppose I can.”

And there you continued. The hollowness disappeared the more times he came inside or on you. Clothes and bodies soon smeared with dirt and leaves, muscles tense and shaking each time, Hongjoong let himself be taken over by you. By the time the drug wore off, you both laid on the ground in a messy heap. He left soft kisses on your jawline and neck, his entire body like a puddle of jello. While you drifted to sleep on the floor, he stayed there and looked at you as the sun rose up.

“She is quite something,” his father said. Both witches laid their heads on his bare thighs, nude and sweaty from pleasuring their master. He leaned against the tree, pushing hair from his face. “I’d hoped to have my turn, but I suppose she’s all spent now.”

“You’ll have her one day, I have no doubt, Dad,” he replied, not looking at him. He smiled softly when you sniffled in your sleep.

“It’s nice to see you have a girl that makes you smile.” When Hongjoong looked up at him, he said, “I was an angel once, son. I can sense the good and the evil in people. That means I can see their happiness as well as their sadness. I don’t know anything about all this new mental health stuff, but…I know, Hongjoong. I know.”

From his pant’s pocket on the floor, he withdrew a small pouch and tossed it to him. Hongjoong opened it to see a bundle of mint leaves inside.

“Give that to your butler,” he said, starting to shut his eyes. “You are not the only one who feels hollow.”

Neither of them spoke, but Hongjoong nodded his appreciation. He rested beside you, arms around your waist and face close to yours.

Yes, he certainly preferred his father over his mother.

***

A/N: aww, the "handsome one" really has some parental issues. I hope you guys really liked this one, I have San's coming soon after <3

#pirateeznet #ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong ateez #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong smut #ateez smut

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galamalion · 8 months

Text

꒰১໒꒱. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

summary. you take zoro on a camping trip to relax; zoro finds other activities to partake in.

⤷ contents. afab!reader, fluff + smut, pet names (baby, babe, sweetheart, good girl), outdoor sex, light strength kink, light degradation, cunnilingus, hair pulling, light slapping (zoro slaps your ass/thighs) // wc. 1.5k

⤷ notes. request by @isapirata for camping and stargazing with zoro + a little bit of smut. hope you enjoy! hoping to pump out some works before my semester starts up <3

"I'm telling you right now, you're gonna enjoy it!"

"And I'm telling you, as long as I can shut my eyes without you pestering me, I'll love this trip."

"Oh, believe me, princess," you teased, hammering the stake into the ground, "you'll get all the beauty rest you need and more."

"Who you callin' princess, princess?" Zoro sneered, giving you a dirty look.

You stood, looking at the tent you single handedly pitched, "You're the one lazing about while I do all the work."

"It's called napping, sweetheart," Zoro rolled his eyes, "you want my help, just holler and your big strong boyfriend will be there."

"My hero," you scoffed, unpacking your gear in the tent.

You couldn't be too mad at Zoro for not helping. After all, he carried you up this gorgeous mountain so that you could go camping. If he wanted to sleep while you set everything up, he was more than welcome to. You would, however, be forcing him to roast marshmallows later. That was non negotiable.

“Would you mind getting some firewood at least, Zoro?” you peaked over your shoulder at the dozing swordsman. “It'd be good exercise.”

With a deep, displeased grumble, Zoro arose from beneath his shady tree, stomping away from your camping setup and into the nearby woods.

“Stay safe!” you called, giving him a small wave.

Zoro being gone allowed you to focus on other necessities, like digging out a spot for a small fire pit. You definitely weren’t as skilled as Franky, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t try your hand at crafting something. With the rudimentary skills of a novice craftsman, you laid a couple of sizable stones around your dug out hole, creating a misshapen circle that would make any child envious of your talents.

Occasional loud thumps in the distance kept you on your toes, clearly originating from Zoro taking your request a little too far. Part of you was scared to see how many tree trunks Zoro would return with, while the other part of you was excited to put him to work. Maybe you could fashion one into some kind of bench for the two of you? Of course, that was assuming that the tree trunk could withstand Zoro’s hulking frame. It’d be terribly unfortunate if it collapsed on the spot.

Moments later your boyfriend emerged from the woods with five massive trunks slung over his shoulder, balanced perfectly with the help of his huge bicep.

“Welcome back, handsome!” you cooed, skipping over to his side.

“Go back to your arts and crafts,” he grunted, continuing his stride towards your camp.

You gasped, “I came over here to help! How ungrateful!”

“What are you gonna do, help me carry these?” he gestured above his shoulder.

“I came to be a cheerleader, for your information. There’s no way in hell I can lift those over my shoulder like you can.”

“You couldn’t lift one, period.”

“I’m not fighting you on that.”

Upon your instruction, Zoro laid a single log near your amateur fire pit, setting the others aside. After removing his shirt, he began slicing them into smaller pieces, ripping the fragments in half to fit inside the pit. You thought about assisting him, but after considering the danger of splinters, decided against it.

“Hurry up, babe! It’s getting cold!” you shouted, searching for any available tinder to use in your fire.

“Quit yer’ bitchin’! I got your wood right here.” He stomped over beside you, tossing the wood into the fire pit.

“Thank you,” you emphasized, standing up to give him a hug. A grunt was all you got in response, but it was all you needed.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Zoro whistled from his spot under the tree, arms folded behind his head.

“What? What do you mean ‘come here’?” you stared at him befuddled, “I just finished setting all this stuff up, and you just wanna sit on—”

“No complaints, ya brat,” he barked, moving a hand to pat his bare chest, signaling for you to come lay against it.

Annoyed, you stomped towards your boyfriend, sitting just a couple inches away from him in defiance.

“You really wanna play this game?” Zoro muttered, raising an eyebrow at your actions.

“What game?” you said, batting your eyelashes and flashing him a smile.

“Alright, fine,” Zoro whispered to himself, standing up from beneath the tree.

You just closed your eyes and rested your chin on your hand, quietly humming to yourself. It was somewhat of a surprise that Zoro gave up so easily, knowing that your boyfriend was stubborn to a fault. He stood up; was he really just gonna—

“Up we go,” Zoro huffed, easily slinging you over his shoulder and walking towards a clearer area.

“Hey, hold on!” you shrieked, flailing as he laid you down in the grass.

“Oh come on, baby,” he grinned, pulling your hips plush against his, “I think I’ve earned a little something for all my hard work tonight, and all you’ve done was whine.”

“Excuse me! I also worked hard tonight,” you scoffed, pushing your thighs close together, denying Zoro access to what he wanted most.

“Don’t be a tease,” he growled, sliding a calloused hand between your thighs. Zoro could effortlessly spread your legs faster than even you could open them, and both of you were aware of this. But what was the fun in just giving him what he wanted?

“Me? A tease? I think you’re just being a little unfair. You want a treat, so why can’t I also have one?”

“You’re really pushing my buttons here, babe.”

“I think you’ll get over it.”

“Fine,” he said, “you want a little reward, huh? Somethin’ sweet?”

Your legs were quickly pulled apart, Zoro’s hands quickly moving to cup your ass.

“Might as well get a little treat myself,” he hissed, yanking your panties down to your ankles.

“Wait!” you yelped, “take it slow!”

The pleas that left your lips fell on deaf ears as Zoro dove straight into his midnight snack, snaking his tongue across your folds and plunging it into your wet cunt. Your initial surprise wore off as soon as his tongue entered you, replaced with feelings of reluctant bliss and overpowering your other senses.

“So now the princess doesn’t want her reward?” he gasped, popping his mouth off your clit.

“S-Someone might hear us,” you sputtered, trying to not look at his mouth that was covered with your juices.

“Oh, come on. You’ve been a real brat today, ya know?” he groaned, giving your ass a hard slap. “Don’t go soft on me now, I know you can take it.”

He went back to his mission, between your legs in order to devour your sweet pussy. Every lick he made caused you to yank your pelvis away, but his tight hold on your hips kept you from escaping grasp, leaving you a pathetic, squirming mess.

“Right there, baby,” you moaned, gripping his hair and yanking him closer, “don’t stop!”

His hands moved in response to your request for more, sliding his rough hands up to your thighs and throwing them over his shoulders to delve deeper into your poor cunt.

It was overbearing, and you couldn’t decide which was worse—or in this case, better. The way he tongue-fucked you relentlessly, swirling around inside your walls, or the way he’d switch to sucking on your, now swollen, clit. All you could do was curl your toes and grasp at the sleeping bag beneath you, gasping for air as pleasure racked your body.

“Gonna cum, Zo!” you cried, crossing your legs tight around his head.

Zoro squeezed your thighs, lapping at your clit with his tongue as he sucked it for all it was worth, watching eagerly from below as you felt apart.

“Knew you could handle it, sweetheart,” he panted, giving your cunt one last lick before he easily escaped your weakened hold.

“W-What about yo-u!” you yelped as Zoro slapped your cunt, rising from his place beneath you.

“Believe me, I'll get my fill later," he grunted, bringing you up to lay against his chest, “we still have all of tomorrow, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled, nuzzling into him and readjusting your clothes.

You looked up into the shimmering night sky, beholding the glittering stars above, scattered about their blackened canvas like grains of sand on a beach.

"You know anything about stars, Zo?" you asked.

"Not a damn thing."

“Well, that one,” you pointed, “is Ursa Major.”

“Hm?” Zoro questioned, looking up in the direction you pointed. “I don’t see anything.”

“Right there! Those are the feet, and that’s the tail, and that little sticky-outy-bit is the head!”

“I guess I kinda see it.”

“And that one is Ursa Minor, with the big long tail.”

“The hell? Are constellations having babies now? Didn’t know stars could fuck.”

“Be more romantic, Zoro,” you begged.

“The sky is Nami’s thing,” he frowned, “I’m not interested unless there’s one that I can fight. Or one shaped like a sword.”

You crossed your arms and pouted, leaning further into his chest.

“Well, aren’t the stars pretty, at least?”

“I guess,” he muttered, a grin rising to his face.zoro romance

“But I got the prettiest star of all, right?”

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devieuls · 1 year

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ˋ Love Lessons .

Neteyam Sully x Omatikaya Reader ( ONE SHOT )

Synopsis : After years of friendship, you realize that you have fallen in love with your best friend Neteyam, but you decide to keep your crush to yourself, afraid of ruining your relationship. The only thing that gave you any comfort was the fact that Neteyam was not interested in any woman, until one day he asks you for advice to make his crush understand that he is interested in her.

Warning : SMUT MDNI - Bites, oral sex, canines, hickeys, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, light dirty talk, foreplay…

Lenght : 5k

Notes : I don’t know, I feel like I could have done better. There are some smut parts that I liked more than others, but I don’t know. I think I’ll do it again later, I also tried to contain myself in detail (as a test, but I think I will continue to write with many details)

NETEYAM: 22 y.o / Y/N: 20 y.o

NA'VI WORDS : TANHI: Star / Bioluminescent freckles; KARYU: Teacher

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

As long as you can remember, Neteyam Sully has always been the person closest to you, covering your back every time you created trouble in the Omatikaya clan or got into trouble with your own family. Fortunately your parents trusted Neteyam blindly, after all he was the son of the Olo'eykte and as he grew up, his reputation grew with him, making him worthy of the trust of the whole clan. You could consider him your best friend, who understood and appreciated your rebellious spirit and so contrasted with his, creating a perfect balance in your relationship, as one gave the other what one lacked.

When you were younger it seemed easier to see you only as friends, but when you came of age you found it difficult to see Neteyam only as a friend. You had to admit that he had become a handsome Na'vi, an excellent warrior and probably the definition of perfection in the flesh, always teasing him about things like "You are Eywa’s favorite" and similar phrases. It was a fact that Neteyam excelled at everything he experimented with, so much so that he was the first Na'vi of his group to complete his Iknimaya on the first try, so you assumed he was perfect at everything. You never tried to make him understand your true feelings, intimidated by the fact that he would probably reject you and drive you away, ruining a friendship that lasted for years. So you arrived at the age of twenty with a huge crush on your best friend, watching in silence as the young Na'vi attached to him and flirted to become his companion and one day Tsahìk. You were heartened that he never told you about a particular girl, so you weren’t afraid to lose him yet, not wanting to realize that one day it’ll be too late to come out.

"Yn? Why are you so thoughtful?" Neteyam asked you as you walked through the forest, to reach your secret place where you two spent most of your time. "Mh? A-Ah, nothing, I was just seeing if there were fruits around to collect and take with us" You replied, smiling at the Na'vi near you, trying to drive away all the thoughts that haunted your mind. "Are you sure? If you need to talk to me about something, here I am, you know ma Tanhì" His sweet and caring voice was just one of many curses that didn't help your arduous feat of not thinking of him as a possible partner, but only as a childhood friend. "Yes" you hissed, forcing a smile and then turning away from him, bringing it back on the path before you. You kept walking for a few minutes and then you stopped because of Neteyam who got stuck in his footsteps. You looked at him worried, thinking that he had stepped on a poisonous animal that created paralysis or something like this, but then he turned to you with an embarrassed and shy look. "Ma Tanhì… can I ask you something?" he asked nervously, while scratching the back of his neck, noticing a slight veil of redness on his cheeks. "Umh… yes, tell me" you answered, approaching him, trying to figure out what question might embarrass him this way. "How do you get a girl?" The question hit you directly where it would hurt you most. "I-I mean, I’m asking you because you’re my only female friend, and I know asking Kiri would be the same as being mocked by all my siblings, and my mom isn’t the type to make that clear, saying things like 'follow your heart' or 'be yourself', so… I was hoping to hear it from you," he continued shyly.

At that moment all your beliefs collapsed like a house of cards, realizing that it was now too late even to mention that you had a crush on him. You didn’t react right away, your heart weighed so much that it crushed your lungs, taking away your ability to speak. After a few seconds you began to laugh, hiding your pain behind this action, hoping that Neteyam would not notice from your eyes that you were hurt. "The mighty warrior Neteyam, son of the Olo'eyktan and golden boy of the Omatikaya clan does not know how to get a girl? Really?" You asked ironically, knowing perfectly well that every girl in the clan would fall at his feet with a simple smile or greeting. "Neteyam, knowing you, you’ll just need to introduce yourself to this girl and she’ll be at your feet." your voice was a little tougher but sincere. You started walking in the forest followed by Neteyam who was trying to keep your quick step. "Let’s say she’s not like the other girls, this girl probably doesn’t even see me… Or if she does, she doesn’t do it the way I would" Unknowingly Neteyam was stabbing your heart repeatedly with those words. "Neteyam, c'mon. All the village women have a crush on you, you are the ideal type of all, so I doubt that 'this girl' doesn't see you as you would like" You snort while moving the plants to walk, feeling the look of Neteyam burn on your back and then sigh. "I’m telling you, that’s it. Y/n, you’re my…best friend, help me. Please, I promise I’ll cover you with your parents when you run off in the middle of the night, whatever you want" his desperate voice made you laugh, having never heard he beg like this.

"And you’ll have to take Tuk and my little sister Popiti out whenever they want. Plus, you will accompany me and Kiri to collect beads and objects in the forest" You turned to him suddenly, finding him a few inches away from your body. backing up because of the short distance between your bodies. "All right, will you help me?" he lowered his voice quietly, looking you in the eye while waiting for your answer. "Yes… Tell me about this girl." You back off before you start walking again, trying to calm your heart that was starting to run in your chest. Your tone was slightly cold, you didn’t really want to hear him talk about his crush, but as his friend you couldn’t even back out, not after he was always there for you. "Well, she’s… you know…" he began in a dreamy, excited tone, following the direction you were taking. "Perfect. There’s not much else to describe her with. She’s different from all the girls I’ve ever met, she’s kind, caring, and she loves being with kids. I know she’s a rebellious spirit and she likes to make things. is perfect, then her hair-" you stopped him before he could continue to describe her and go into pseudo-romantic details like the smell of her hair or the sound of her laughing. "That’s enough, I could throw up if you started listing the physical characteristics too" Neteyam laughed embarrassedly, remaining behind you. "Have you already come out? Or have you at least made her think you’re interested?" Your voice became slightly gloomy, and then stopped once you arrived at your secret place.

The place was lovely, you had found it as children and from that day had become your place, there was a small waterfall that created a kind of crystalline lake that connected to a small river hidden by high plains and thick nature. You and Neteyam sat on the grass to talk more comfortably. "No, I don’t know how to tell her or make her understand… I thought it would be easier, but every time I try, she doesn’t understand it or she starts laughing thinking that maybe I’m joking" he sighed heavily, and then he looks up to the sky. "And how did you 'try'?" Your eyes met his, trying to help him in some way, even if you would have preferred to do the opposite. You still had to realize that Neteyam could fail in something as easy as courtship. "Lo'ak told me to show interest, to be empathetic and to be myself, but all this I already did. My mother said that showing myself confident would be attractive, but I’m confident and direct in words, and showing respect." Neteyam dropped on his back and snorted, clearly frustrated by the situation, which you also noticed from the nervous oscillation of his tail "'Teyam, I know no one more respectful than you, as I said, you would be the perfect mate for any girl in the village." You admitted looking at the guy who was now lying next to you, unable to look away from his sculpted body, following every line of his body, enchanted by how his chest rose and lowered with every breath.

"Then what do I do… Why doesn’t she understand? It’s obvious that I’m doing something wrong in the courtship, ma Tanhì" his head turned towards you, looking at you while you were sitting and watching him, making him blush slightly. "Maybe start complimenting her, girls love that. Put your hand in her hair when you talk to her, like moving a strand behind her ear, looking for physical contact makes understand your intentions, especially by the way you do it. Oh! Make her laugh, if you can make her laugh, surely you have done most of the work" your voice was bitter in your throat, you were hating giving that kind of advice knowing that he would use them with who knows who. Neteyam as he watched you listening attentively and taking mental notes of what you advised him. " And be attentive to the details, what interests her etc… if you remember important events in her life or what she loves to do, it is a clear sign of interest. Plus if you have common interests, could you do it together, for example, she likes hunting?" he looked at you enchanted for a few seconds, then nodded and said "Yeah, she likes it" his voice lowered slightly, as he looked at you, hoping that you would understand. "Well, you can ask her to hunt with you. You’re a great hunter, you’ll definitely impress her. And then… umh, I don’t know, maybe be present in her days, even with a greeting, maybe looking for her look or bringing her something you know she might like. And be direct, let her know that you like her, maybe you take her and tell her, you create the right atmosphere… yeah, you know… things like that" You looked away from Neteyam’s, feeling a strong twinge in your heart that made it hard to speak again, feeling as if I had helped him get away from you. "What if she doesn’t understand it? she’s a good friend, and I don’t know if she’ll reciprocate" You clenched your jaw, maybe understanding who that girl was. Your mutual friend had been acting weird with you for weeks, and Neteyam was acting strangely the same way. Now all the dots were connecting in your mind. " He will understand, if you will be directed with there is another way. If it is not a skxawng. In case you make yourself heard and give her special attentions." You said with clenched teeth, unable to hide the annoyance anymore.

"Ma Tanhì," he whispered, approaching you, sitting again just to lay two fingers under your chin, turning your face towards him. Your noses brushed lightly as his eyes rolled down your lips. "And as actions?… what should I do?" his hoarse voice struck you in a strange way the back and the lower abdomen. "U-umh… Maybe you should… w-well" The breath died in your throat, going to create a knot that pushed down all the words that were going to come out of your lips. " Hmm? I should what, ma Tanhi?" your noses rubbed against each other again, and for a few seconds you deluded yourself that he wanted to kiss you, perhaps failing to realize what was happening. His eyes returned to yours, making you feel a flock of Sturmbeest in your belly. "L-like… kissing her" You whispered with a thread of voice, while his free hand went to move behind your ear some strands of hair, then caress your cheek with his thumb. You swallowed loudly, noticing how Neteyam’s eyes seemed so concentrated in yours, leaving you amazed. "Should I?" His words made you take a deep breath, feeling suddenly weak. "You should…" Neteyam’s smile caught your eyes, staring at his opened lips, which received a mischievous smirk. "Yes, I should."

Suddenly a strong heat hit your body, causing your heart to pump as much blood as possible into your veins as your cheeks burned. Neteyam’s lips met yours, his hands moved from your face to hold the sides of your neck, pressing the thumbs on your jaw. You stood by that unexpected approach, and then only realized it when Neteyam’s tongue pounded against your lips and welcomed it into your mouth. You felt his sweet taste because of the fruit that you both had eaten just before walking into the forest, you moaning in his lips trying to break away from the passionate kiss to catch your breath. Neteyam bit your lip, pulling it with his fangs, now moving his hands between your hair and around your waist, pressing your head against his lips making you groan as your flickering fingers grazed the hard skin of his abdomen. His warm skin contracting under your fingers, as if you were made of pure fire, so much so that when you felt more confident of yourself and your body, you sat on top of him. Your legs tied to his pelvis, squeezing him to you as he did to your body, shuddering when his hand that was once on his waist was now climbing up your bare back, making you arch your body like a cat. You trembled when he came off your lips with a snap that accompanied the sound of the waterfall shattering against the surface of the water, making you pant and gasp to regain the air you had lost. Your red face and half-closed eyes while Neteyam pressed your fingertips on your body.

You feared, for a second, that everything would be over after that kiss and that the embarrassment would lead you two to stay away, but your fears were swept away when you tried to get up from his legs and Neteyam prevented you, starting to kiss your jaw. In silence your bodies were calling each other, you felt the pressure of his whole being against you and new electric shocks hit your back. His soft, moist lips drew wet kisses on your jaw, starting to bite and suck down your neck as your head bent backwards, keeping your eyes half closed. His tongue was even more raw with your already sensitive neck, rough and greedy explored every inch of your skin, occasionally pressing his canines, panting raucously as he savored you. Letting sweet moans come out of your throat in despair as your fingers crawled into his braids, seeking comfort. The curious and hungry eyes of Neteyam studied your skin, feeling contentment in feeling the trembling and shivers he caused you, enjoying your heavy breaths and the noises you made to contain the moans, as if you could be ashamed of something he was trying to hear with such desperation. Your back gently collided against the grass when Neteyam stretched you under him, sliding his lips down your body, as his fingers gently removed the braided top that covered your breasts, as if to give you time to stop him if you wanted. Your eyes rolled backwards as his rough tongue collided against your nipple, and his hand crept in agonizing slowly between your legs, caressing it. You bit your lip violently when you felt the gentle and circular movements of his thumb on your clitoris, feeling the chills come down and hit right where Neteyam was playing with his fingers.

The red cheeks began to burn on your face, as you carried a hand to your mouth to force you not to let him hear your stifled moans, even if your hot body betrayed you. A smothered scream of pleasure instinctively came out of your lips when Neteyam’s fingers slid very easily into you. You suddenly felt airless, your eyes wide open and your body trembling, eager to hear what else he had in store for you. Neteyam’s hoarse laugh made your tail stand on end behind you, while the tip of your head swelled because of excitation, making you blush even more. "No need to be embarrassed, it’s normal that you like this, ma Tanhì" he whispered against your skin, making you arch your back again because of his rough pumping on your breasts. "Shh, baby, just… enjoy the moment and let me hear how much you like it" Neteyam’s voice was getting lower and slower, more sensual, knowing that you would like this. Swallow loudly when Neteyam made his way up to your thighs, leaving behind a trail of burning wet kisses, accompanying his movements with his fingers firmly inside you, which continued to move as if they were waves, making your legs tremble. Your sensitive breasts made you shudder because of the light breeze and saliva that the boy had left on the tip, and when you lowered your head to look for his eyes, you found him blowing against the bundle of nerves that yearned to be satisfied. You once again felt his tongue but this time he was working through your needy folds, loving the way one of his muscles could make you feel all that ecstasy. You whined as your hands went to clench the soft grass to find a foothold to release the frustration of too much pleasure, dropping your head backwards, hoping to muffle as much as possible your desperate moans. Neteyam looked for your face, eager to notice the impatience of your eyes and watch your face become a mess just for him, with the aim of giving you as much pleasure as possible, wanting to feel you up to bring you orgasm. He started savoring your intimacy, tickling your folds with the tip of your tongue, making you grunt as you clenched your teeth. When he started sucking, you felt something break in you, you couldn’t even cover your mouth as you groaned his name without shame, watching as he was focused on feeding on your excitement. Your hand again found place in his hair, pulling them and accompanying his movements as he gave you pleasure. "Look how wet you are for me, you wanted me so badly?" Neteyam said with sensual voice, between a lick and a lukewarm breath to make you shiver and whimping.

Your legs began to feel tired and heavy around his cheeks, trying to close together to stop feeling that tingling and flickering caused by too much pleasure. Neteyam wrapped his big hands around your thighs, opening them wider, locking them as much as possible against the ground below as his fingers sank into your soft flesh. His jaw continued to move between your legs with a heartbreaking rhythm that went from slow and gentle to rude and fast, making your walls tighten around his wet muscle. Neteyam broke away from you when he felt that your intimacy was wet enough not to make you feel pain when he slips inside you. His eyes peered at your body beneath him, still trembling and sensitive, touching your already sweaty skin, worshipping how you writhed and gasped under him. You could only take courage later, drawing him to your lips after your fingers hooked to the necklace on his neck. You tasted your own intrinsic moods in your best friend’s saliva as you embraced his body between your legs, rubbing his covered intimacy with your naked, feeling him grunting in your mouth. You smiled as you felt him vulnerable above you, taking advantage of that moment to put yourself on top of him, your back arched toward him to allow you to continue the kiss that was giving relief to both of you. You began to rub yourself on his still-covered sex, feeling pleasure when his throbbing muscle found space in your heat, moaning with pleasure, as your hands on his chest could feel the contractions and chills running through his body as well.

"Hmhm, I know something you’d like to try." Neteyam said as he wrapped his hands around your bare hips, observing the red and purple spots that covered your body. "What?" you whispered in response, as you detached yourself from his lips, observing him with ardent desire. One of his hands came up on your face, placing three fingers on your jaw and thumb on your lips, caressing your soft mouth, and then gently tapping on it. "Open." he ordered. His eyes following your every move, worshipping the way you obeyed him by opening your mouth and taking his thumb in your mouth, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively began to lick and suck his finger greedily, whining as you felt the slightly salty taste against your tongue. "Good girl, you already understood" Neteyam continued, as his hand on his side began to explore every inch of your body with desire. The Na'vi lowered you to the height of his loincloth and you smiled before taking your face away from where Neteyam was leading you, back on his face, sliding his salivated thumb out of his mouth. "Hmhm, here I decide, 'Teyam" you whispered to his ear, noticing with the corner of your eye his jaw contracted as your fingers find their way under his loincloth, just after picking up some of your moods still dripping from your intimacy, wrapping your phalanges around his needy manhood. You heard him growl after panting because of your touch, his chest rising and the frustrated breath of his nostrils against your neck, making you smile for the effect you had on him. Your hand began to slide up and down his erection with gradual speed, you felt his hoarse and rough groans against your skin, his hands clasping your thighs and his breathless breaths. Your lips went to tease the shell of his ear, leaving some magnate kisses or slight licks. When you felt quite satisfied with how he was also pining under you, you lowered yourself making sure you kept eye contact. Your hand went to move and later rip off his loincloth; Neteyam bit his lip and then groaned deeply when your mouth wrapped around his glans, starting to tease the tip with your tongue. Your head slid along his entire length to completely conceal it, immediately moving the head with greed, making him hiss and wince under you. The vein of his penis pulsed incessantly against the inside of your cheek, as he bit his lip and carried a hand to collect your hair in a tight vise.You felt his erection collide several times against the deepest point of your throat, letting you fuck your mouth by Neteyam, before breaking off with tears of pleasure sliding on your face. Your lips swollen and reddened, covered with drool as you tried to start breathing regularly sent him into ecstasy.

The pre-cum that came out of Neteyam’s sex illuminated your lips, making him turn on more to the vision of you with swollen and dirty lips of him. He took you by the hair and carried you back under him, and then he opened your legs and slid inside you with a facility that you would not have expected. You moaned breathlessly as his hips collided with yours in that way, carrying your hands against his back, beginning to scratch and tighten his skin with need. Your cheeks reddened that welcomed other lukewarm tears, your legs tight around his pelvis and the strong heat that at each push accumulated inside you. His tail wrapped around your heel, holding you still due to spasms of pleasure. Neteyam’s hoarse groans did not delay in striking your ears, as he held you by the hips, caressing your trembling thighs and twitching at each of his lunges. Your sweaty bodies colliding with every little movement, making you more hot and eager to consume you. Your lips met once again, growling at each other every time Neteyam pushed against your G-spot, your willows stirring each other’s hormones still stuck in your mouths. You bit his lips when he began to push and grind inside you shamelessly, growling at him before whining, making him excite even more as he purposely struck where your walls held him tighter due to sensitivity. You felt Neteyam’s body stiffen and twitching above you just before reaching orgasm and pouring out of you in time, then carrying two fingers inside you and starting to pump until you reach your peak shortly after him.

You whimpered loudly after the strong orgasm that mercilessly hit you; your heavy, sore thighs as your orgasm crashed into him and hot splashes of your cum poured over his hand. He gasped entranced, stunned by the lust and how your body looked so soft and relaxed after cumming. You took long deep breaths, looking at the green leaves so far away from you because of the trees too high, the sun that lightly struck the place where you were made you return to reality. You blush when Neteyam lays next to you, looking up at him too.

"Well, then…" He started, while you recovered with your hand the pieces of clothes to cover yourself again, hoping that you both would turn a blind eye. "Hmm…" You whine while avoiding his gaze with all your heart. "Do you think after all this, you realize I have a crush on you? If even this way you don’t understand that I like you, I don’t know what other kind of attention to give you to make it clear" he said casually. You shuddered and looked at him in shock. "Excuse you?" you whispered not really wanting to understand the meaning of his words. "I say, did you understand that you are the girl I was trying to conquer?" Your eyes met and you swallowed. "I don’t know how to ask you more directly than that, and don’t think I’m not afraid to ruin our friendship. But I like you, not just aesthetically, i love every part of you. I’ve been trying to make you understand this for six years, not that I didn’t like you as a child…" His voice was slightly shaky, as you watched him in silence, trying to figure out how to respond. "You never let me know…" you whispered as you blushed. Neteyam laughed and led you to lean on his chest, wrapping your body with arms "You really are a skxawng, ma Tanhì. I’m supposed to be teaching you. But how to figure out that someone has a crush on you." You hit him blushing while hiding your face on his chest. "Yeah, yeah, lessons from a guy who doesn’t even know how to come out and only does it after having sex with his crush. The great Karyu, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan" You teased him and then got pinched on the hips by his hands. "Not that you ever noticed I’ve had a crush on you for ages." Neteyam looked at you perplexed, and you couldn’t contain the laughter.

"See? Other than 'lessons'. You’re more Skxawng than I am, ma 'Teyam."

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august126 · 9 months

Text

✩‧₊˚𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯-𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰✩‧₊˚

Scaramouche x fem!reader

summary: scaramouche's big mouth got himself in trouble once more. after a rough night, his injuries are too much for him to deal with himself. although you're there to aid him, there are other needs he wants your help with

Warnings; Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot,Size Kink,Semi-Public Sex,Public Sex,Public Blow Jobs,Blow Jobs,First Time Blow Jobs,Vaginal Sex,Anal Sex,Outdoor Sex, and Eventual Smut.

A/n; Thank you all so much,OMG 300 followers !! It means so much to me, I hope you guys enjoy this.

you always found the night to be peaceful, in fact, you were a bit of a night owl. the stars always captured your attention, your comfort was in the night sky, and sometimes, you felt that the sky always felt the same about you. unfortunately, one night, the peace and comfort you once knew diminished as you were able to detect sounds of someone trudging through the mud. once at ease, your body tensed whilst you gripped at your weapon. no one passed by your abode, especially not at night. it was quiet near the bottom of starsnatch cliff. this was your station for the month; fatui were to be placed at different stations throughout teyvat as scaramouche had worked on 'delusions.' you owned multiple, one for each element. the archons were not as graceful as people say they are to be able to grant you a real one. thankfully, scaramouche was able to give you one, then another, then another, soon you owned all the elements. and then some.

your station was pretty open, resembling albedo's campsite in dragonspine.

"who's that?" your voice came out slightly shakier than you had hoped.

a small strained chuckle came from the figure in the darkness, "that's how you respond to enemies? 'who's that?' how intimidating."

you gritted your teeth and relaxed your shoulders. scaramouche. many thoughts ran through your mind, the most prominent one being, why was he here? mondstadt? he was supposed to be in inazuma. you had always tried to be kind to him, but if he was there for some stupid reason, basic manners would be the last thing on your mind.

"what are you doing here?" this time, your voice was stern and his figure became more distinguished as he came into the light. with more details being revealed, it was obvious he had gotten into a brutal fight. "why are you…" your thought trailed off as your feet moved without you, towards him. he had a smirk on his face, but worry also ran through his expression. his eyes fell and he swatted your gracious hand away. instead of responding, he thought an appropriate answer would be to rummage through your station, inferring he was looking for supplies to heal himself. a sigh escaped your lips, you grabbed your weapon and tossed it near him. his body was stiff while he explored your carefully arranged items.

exasperated, you gripped his wrist and turned his body towards yours, "what are you doing here? answer me this time." you repeated the question as his eyes finally met yours. his clothes ripped, his eyes heavy, and he had bruises along his body. although fully clothed, it was easy to tell there were more extensive injuries beyond what the eye could see. not to mention, his face. once clean and clear, now battered with cuts. your stomach flipped at the sight.

"i came to see you and well, there were people here who thought otherwise. i guess i'm popular around teyvat."

three seconds of silence and tension filled the air. your lips curled inward as your tried to stile a laugh. "well.. yeah." a huff of air came from your mouth instead of a laugh, "you're one of teyvat's most wanted fatui. you create delusions and the traveler wants you dead." the want to laugh becomes greater by the second.

"okay. ha. ha. not funny. are you gonna help me or not?"

his wrist slid out of your grip, "why should i?"

scaramouche's fingers gently wrapped around the bottom of his top. tilting his head enough to let his hat drop to a nearby table, his arms weakly lifted the shirt above his head and off of his body. your breath hitched at the sight of his well-toned -- injured abdomen. the bruises appeared black and the deep wounds were now crusted over with dried blood. your palms instinctively ran along his muscles, he didn't wince, but was clearly uncomfortable. you flinched away from him.

"sorry. i was just.. seeing if they hurt."

"of course they hurt."

"sorry."

"just help me. stop apologizing."

you sat him down on the most comfortable stools you were able to find. he lit another lantern due to the darkness of the environment, while he was struggling to light a match, you looked for your 'med kit.' well, it was a box full of bandages and alcohol. you hoped it would be enough. scaramouche's eyes glanced over at you, eyeing the box you held.

"idiot."

you were taken aback, "excuse me?"

"you heard me. what if something happened to you and this is all you had?"

your face felt hot and you were embarrassed, "nothing would have happened to me. i'm careful and i don't pick fights."

his hand found his way on top of yours, he dragged you towards him; his free hand slid underneath your chin, his thumb stroking your jaw. you could feel your face turn hot with each stroke. your face inched towards his, slowly, until he opened his mouth.

"i didn't pick this fight." he let go, dramatically. he turned away from you, letting his jaw face you.

your head fell slightly, hair covering your eyes. "okay, i believe you." he was injured, you had to be nice to him. you fiddled with the bandages in the box for a moment before placing the box on his thighs. "posture straight, please." all that mattered was patching him up.

your hands were covered in alcohol as you soaked cotton pads in the liquid. you gently rubbed the sterilizing product over his wounds. at first, it seemed like extensive injuries littered his body, but it wasn't all that bad. a large cut and a few bruises were near his rib area, scrapes were found all over his legs, but they weren't all that important, and his face -- it was fine. a cut. it'll scar up. he's a skilled fighter, you thought to yourself to calm yourself. you gently pressed your hands on his shoulders to encourage him to lean back. there was one last cut you hoped to clean near his hip bone.

"lean back." you stared at his abdomen area, it looked much better than before.

he laughed, "i'm not even hard yet. plus, is it advised to do such acts while injured?"

your eyes widened, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, you looked at him with a neutral expression. "i'm cleaning you up."

he rolled his eyes and complied to your demands, rolling his pants down slightly farther. you glared at scaramouche and he shrugged, "i'm giving you a better view."

sighing, you bandaged him up and clapped your hands against each other, removing any dirt. trying to tidy up the place once more, you grabbed excess scraps and tossed them back in the 'med kit' as scaramouche rose from the stool, trying to feel comfortable with the bandages. you finished placing everything back in the correct spot and bent over to place the 'med kit' back in a drawer. although he was messing around with his bandages, he managed to steal a few glances at you. once you stood up and felt more relaxed, you realized how tall scaramouche was. and how pretty he was. you couldn't leave him alone, especially not injured. you grabbed onto his hand and led him closer to you.

you tilted your head up to look into his eyes, "do you want to rest here?"

"what are you insinuating?"

"rest. sleep."

"where will you sleep?" he bent over your shoulder to glance at your bed. he craned his neck so his lips pressed against your ear, "unless you want to sleep with me."

continuing with the stone cold expression, you let out a dry laugh. "i'll sleep outside. i'm not even tired. by the time you wake up, you can leave and i'll be able to sleep."

the stars continued to twinkle. your eyes darted to the sky outside. the night sky, beautiful. scaramouche brought his attention to the same sky and shook his head. he grabbed his disheveled clothes and hat, attempting to put them on. confused, you stopped him from trying to leave, especially now. the quiet of night, but the loud of ones in it. you knocked his hat out of his hand and pushed him to the bed, encouraging him to get in. the sheets were warm, the bed was soft, you were so confused on why he couldn't just stay. fatui had slept together many times, one keeping watch, one sleeping. moments of wrestling, you managed to pin him to the bed. your face was red and sweat beaded on his face, heavy breathing filled the silence.

"stay. please." your voice cracked once more.

"i can fend for myself. you're not fooling me with your act. trying to be all nice, getting delusions from me."

you caught your breath as you tilted your head, such as a confused dog, "i am nice to you! genuinely! do you think i use you for delusions?"

"why else would you be nice to me? i have power, delusions, and money."

"so do i."

your brows furrowed, "fuck you, leave."

you sat on scaramouche's lap, pointing at the large gap being the exit. "leave."

he sat up, propping himself up on one elbow, sighing. "i'm sorry. i can't really fathom why you tolerate me"

"i don't."

he laughed at the snarky remark, his hands snaked around your waist.

"fiesty."

his face came closer to yours, his hands sliding to your lower back. your breath grew heavier, he smiled at the response, "how about you tolerate me for one night?"

soon, your lips were centimeters apart, "i'll allow it."

with those words, his lips crashed onto yours, the warmth of his breath filled your mouth. as his tongue explored your mouth, he fiddled with the buttons on his pants. as the buttons finally came undone, he used one hand to lift you above his thighs, just enough to slide off his bottoms. he pulled away and brought his mouth to your neck, "clothes off." your body moved on its own, without any debate, your hands began to strip yourself. his fingers slid along your waist, his right hand made his way up to your chest, the left aiding you in taking off your bottoms. he gripped onto your chest, cursing pleasures against your neck. the warm, sloppy feeling of his lips made you unknowingly grind against his thigh. you felt yourself growing hot against his skin, you yearned for contact, "please. take it off."

"of course, dear."

he removed your underwear, leaving you feeling too warm. he kept himself sitting up as you were able to rock your hips against his thigh, moaning each time you rubbed against his knee. your back arched, you felt yourself getting closer to climax, scaramouche supported you, his arm wrapped around your upper back.

"almost.. please."

scaramouche's nails dug into your thighs, making you halt quickly. he grabbed onto your hips, applying an immense amount of pressure on them. "you were going to finish.. without me?" you blushed in embarrassment, he lifted you off of his lap and laid you on your back gently. "i'll admit, you looked. amazing, but what type of person would you be if you left me hanging? don't i get to make you feel good too?"

the last sentence struck you, he wasn't upset that he wasn't getting anything for himself, he was upset he let you do all the work.

"you aren't as bad as people say you are." you swallowed your words.

the innocence in your voice, fueled him even more, the lust he felt made his eyes glow. as soon as your sentence finished, his fingers rubbed along you, the wetness causing many noises beyond the ones from your moans. he slid one finger in, essentially seeing how far he could push you. the one finger, while a surprise, didn't exactly do much for you. it wasn't until another finger slid in that made your body twitch, along with that, his palm pressed along the upper portion of your crotch, rubbing it as his fingers slid in and out of you. he managed to fit in another finger. your mouth had drool and moans seeping from it, you couldn't contain yourself. the pleasure made your back arch against his upper arm. soon, he gave up on being gentle, he slid his fingers out. the sensation of his fingertips exiting you made a small 'yelp' come out of you. he turned you over, lifting your ass towards him. this time, he had one hand inside you, the other fondling your chest. his fingers continued to pump inside and outside of you, curling at certain times, the heat from his fingers overtook all other senses. he continued to massage your chest, putting your nipple between his index his middle finger, pinching it slightly, soon, the knot in your stomach builds again.

"close. close.." your breath was heavy, words barely being distinguished between each heavy sigh. scaramouche's mouth turned into a smile, a growl came from the depths of his throat. in desperation, you stopped moving your hips against his fingers, sliding them out yourself. a thin trail of liquid coming from your entrance connected you to the tips of scaramouche's fingers. he didn't move or continue, he grabbed your shoulders and turned you over again. he stared down at you, eyes switching from looking at your eyes to your chest. your cheeks burn red and scaramouche's hands float over your body.

"are you okay? did i.. overstep?"

you smile at his softness, grabbing his hands, you place them over your chest. "i want you, um, inside me." you slide your hand down his waist, rubbing over some bandaids. his expression changed, eyes narrowing. "all you had to do was ask." he leaned back and motioned for you to take off his underwear. reluctantly, you slowly took it off, the waistband rubbing against his bulge, the waistband teased the slit on the head, forcing a groan come out his lips. your lips found its way to his penis, heat radiated onto your them. "put your mouth on it." he grabbed a handful of hair and smiled, seeing you in such a vulnerable state, "you look so beautiful as my little slut." your heart skipped a beat hearing his words, 'his,' your lips kissed his inner thighs, wetting them. his size made you worried, it was laid against his stomach, throbbing against his abs. you moved your way up, watching his hands clutch onto the bedsheets. he was too much for you to take in at first, the length hit the back of your throat immediately, but you persisted, testing your limits each time you bobbed your throat up and down. scaramouche thrusted into you, making you gag intensely, "i'm sorry, baby." he rubbed your head soothingly, encouraging you to continue. you felt his penis throb in your mouth, with one last thrust, hot cum filled your throat. your eyes filled with tears, your mouth relaxed and you lifted your head off of scaramouche. cum poured out the corners of your mouth, you did you best to swallow, but he filled you to the brim.

"you look pathetic, imagine signora seeing you like this." he wiped the cum away from your mouth with his thumb. you held yourself up, hands sinking into your mattress, your legs spread apart slightly underneath you. awkwardly, you lifted your leg above scaramouche's lap, beginning to straddle him. his eyes trailed down to your crotch, hand massaging your waist as you lowered your hips, entrance teasing the tip of his cock. pleasure immediately flowed through scaramouche's body, precum lubing his penis. any slight movement would have had his penis slide inside you easily, he began to test the waters, holding onto your hips, attempting to keep you in place, slightly above him. as a sign to let him move, you wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing heavily against it. scaramouche slammed his penis inside you, his balls slapping against your ass, sounds of skin slapping echoed into your ears. scaramouche whined slightly, praising how good he felt inside you, his hands gripped onto your ass, spreading your ass cheeks apart. you sat on the base of his penis, waiting for him to continue moving, in desperation you humped him, insinuating he continued. you couldn't move yourself, his penis was too big, feeling like too much pressure inside you. he kissed your jaw once, smiling against your smooth skin as he continued to pound into you. his penis spread you apart perfectly, the right amount of pain and pleasure. his hand striked your ass, turning it red as he moved his other hand to clasped onto your neck. you bounced your hips against his, making his cock progress deeper into you, reaching your sweet spot. your hands explored his back, nails creating artistic scratches onto him from time to time. "sorry.." you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, "for causing any more injuries.." his penis twitched, your clamped tighter onto him, cum streamed inside you. scaramouche groaned, continuing to pound into you, a small squeal came from your mouth as you creamed all over his penis, a mix of both of your fluids pouring out of you. you lifted your hips off of him, liquids streaming out of you. you spread your legs apart, pressing your fingers against you, cum accumulating on them. you pressed your fingers against his lips, his tongue licking your fingers clean. you pressed your body against him as you slowly slid down enough so your mouth can reach his wet penis. you licked the rest of the cum off of his penis, he squirmed against your mouth, his skin too sensitive. you swallowed carefully before yawning. scaramouche lifted you up from the arms, a soft smile painted across his face.

both of you lied down silently, recovering from the exercise. "you did great." he wrapped his arms around you, laying the both of you down. he winced slightly having your body press against his. "you'll patch me up tomorrow, right?"

you couldn't help but smile, "you're staying with me until tomorrow?"

"yeah, your station's kinda barren," he paused, "you need company."

"sounds like you like me"

"i do."

silence hung in the air, tension along with it.

scaramouche played with your hair tenderly, "and do you feel the same?"

"is it not obvious? you're going to make me say it out loud?"

"yes."

"i like you too."

"ah… do you love me?"

you turned to see his stupid self beaming at you, "yes. i guess. i tolerate you."

"please, tolerate me for more nights."

"shut up."

"anything for you."

"didn't i say shut up?"

he pressed a finger to his lips and held you tighter.

"night scara."

he rubbed your back softly, lulling you to sleep. again, not a single word came from his mouth.

morning came, sun shined on you two intertwined with one another. his clothes made a mess of your station and the sheets barely covered the two of you. the only thing that seemed to be in place was the two of you. you two felt peaceful and slept through the morning. together.

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scara x reader #scara smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #Scaramouche smut #Scara x reader #Scara smut #genshin impact smut #x reader smut #scara x reader smut #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader

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scorpioriesling · 12 days

Text

Invisible String - Part 1

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): light angst, some involving a child being upset. Please be advised; future parts might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution.

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't begin the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come. For those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- get excited! Nonetheless, I hope readers will enjoy this series that came to me in a dream one night as I wait for the poll results from this week's THTH post to come through. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It was like any other day in the West Wing of the Forest House, this weekday the same as many others you’d experienced here over the past year or so that you’d been employed here. The warm glow of the autumn sun painted the cherrywood floors in an amber glow; so beautiful and red, but nothing compared to the red head of hair that bounded over to you on little legs.

“A picture!” Her sweet voice rang out, and you turned to peer down into those big, round eyes of hers. She smiled up at you, her arms outstretched with a piece of paper at the end of it. You gasped, setting down the butter knife and bending down to her level.

“Oh my goodness Miss Riley,” you said and she beamed, her tiny, four-year-old teeth peeking out from behind her lips as you admired her drawing. It was similar to many you’d received before; a crooked drawing of you, holding hands with a crooked stick drawing of Riley. You knew who was who, of course — she made sure to draw a little crown atop her head, obviously.

“You keep it?” She asked, and you smiled at her, nodding in approval.

“Oh absolutely I’ll keep it! This is a work of art!” You said, and she jumped up and down excitedly, twirling in circles before she eventually got too dizzy and stopped. She hadn’t noticed you’d stood, resuming her lunch preparations as she recentered her gravity.

“Y/N I’m hungryyyyy,” she said, and you smiled softly to yourself, placing the top slice of bread on the sandwich in finality.

“I don’t suppose you’re ready for some lunch, hmm?” You ask, and she races to the dining room, stopping at the edge of her chair and throwing her hands in the air. You set down her plate, rolling your eyes at her silly rituals. She’d done this since you’d begun working for her father, insisting on your help though she was more than capable of needing it now.

“Riley — you know you’re grown enough now to get in your chair—“

“Pleeeeease,” she begs, her arms still above her head. “I like when you make me fly.”

You sigh, smiling as you lift under her arms and place her in her chair, her eyes wide as she takes in the plate before her.

“Ham! Yummm! My favorite; thank you, Y/N!” She says, smiling at you before grabbing her little fork and digging into her sliced peaches. You fold your hands, gazing at the small child in wonder.

“You are very welcome Riley — and very good job remembering your manners.” You praise her, and she continues to eat her food in contentment.

You’d spent the rest of the evening doing many of the same activities you’d do with Riley most evenings; playing dolls, braiding her hair how she liked, walking around the palace. Some days, she would ask to play outdoors — this was one her father was a bit iffy on, but since the day was nice, you figured no harm no foul. After a while in the gardens, you’d gotten Riley down for a nap, braided her hair, played dolls, and were cleaning up dinner when the front door to the West Wing opened.

“Daddy!”

As if on cue, every doll and stuffed animal was abandoned on the living room floor, the sound of little footsteps pattering across the cherrywood in anticipation as quick as the beats of your heart in your chest.

“Bunny,” Eris’ silky soft voice floated through the foyer and you rounded the corner in time to see him scoop his daughter up, her laughter ringing out as he peppered her cheeks with kisses.

“Daddy! Tickles!” Riley laughed, and when he finally relented and set her down, she ran right over to you. His gaze met yours, his professional yet gracious smile meeting yours in greeting.

“Y/N,” he said.

“Hello,” you said. No matter how many times you’d seen him come home, you’d never quite figured out a way of greeting friendly enough, yet still professional, but not too weird to use in front of Riley.

“Daddy, I made a drawing,” Riley beamed. Your heart sank a bit, realizing this repeat situation as if it happened yesterday. She’d drawn you so many photos, so many pictures of you and her together — but the fridge you’d used daily to make lunches, dinners, snacks — it was bare.

“Well, also,” You caught Riley’s arm lightly as you bent to her height, pausing her from running to grab her creation. “We brought in a surprise, right?” You reminded, thinking of the few Honeycrisp apples the two of you had picked earlier for her father from the grove as a surprise. Riley contemplated for a moment, then it looked as though a lightbulb went off in her head and she nodded.

“Daddy — I be right back 'kay,” she rushed out before darting for the kitchen, and Eris chuckled. You stood, picking at your sweater as you watched her run off. When you looked to Eris again, he looked to you in the same moment.

“You have no idea,” he started, pausing as if to find the right words as he stepped further into the room. “How much you being here really helps.” He focused on you then, and you shifted under his intense gaze.

“I mean… I… no where else I’d rather be, right?” You smiled lightly, and Eris loosed a breath, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m actually, really, glad to hear that, uh,” he chuckled. “Well, I um,” he cleared his throat as Riley appeared again in the entryway, hands behind her back and a grin on her face.

“Okay daddy, here is the surprise, okay?” She said. His brows rose, and he crouched down as she stepped closer, finally revealing a leaf, bright red in her little fingers. His mouth opened in shock, and she doubled over in a fit of laughter, Eris watching in admiration. You watched the precious girl, her wild sense of humor even at the age of four. You’d wondered, under his professional exterior, did she get that trait from her father, too?

“Alright my dear,” Eris said finally, standing and picking the girl up to carry in his arms. “It appears that it is your bedtime, hmm?”

You were glad he was here to do it this evening — many nights, if her father wasn’t home, you were the one at the other end of her protests, having to explain away his absences and assure her that he would, and you promised, come kiss her on the head when he got home.

You decided to finish scrubbing the last of the dinner dishes, laying them to dry when footsteps behind you caught your attention.

“You always do more than I’ve ever asked Y/N, seriously. I can’t thank you enough.”

You glanced quickly over your shoulder, trying not to look to long at the Autumn Court heir watching your every move.

“It’s nothing, really — it’s only dishes.”

In a matter of strides, he is beside you, leaning against the very counter you’re working at.

“You know what I mean.” He pauses, looking down before continuing. “I don’t know what Riley…” he sighs. “When Selene left us, I… it was, very tough. On all of us. Riley, she… I don’t know how I could’ve done it without your help.” He says quietly. You silently set down the plate you’d been washing, looking at him with knitted brows.

“Don’t ever feel bad for something someone else has done to you,” You say, your heart clenching at the reminder of his wife — well, ex-wife, you supposed — leaving him just over a year ago. Leaving him behind and her daughter.

Your chest ached.

“She made a poor decision. Riley is a lovely little girl, she’s learning so much, and truly she’s a joy to be around. This job isn’t work, for me; I really, really enjoy spending time with her, Eris. Don’t worry about it.” Your eyes meet his again, and you swear you see silver lining them. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, biting it before turning to face you.

“Live here full time, then.”

You set the plate on the drying rack, reaching for a fork and dunking it into the sink.

“Why would I need to? I’m already here five days a week-“

“But you could be here seven, look — please, at least just for a few months while I settle a few things with the other courts. I just need someone here for Riley in case I’m not here as often, and I will absolutely prepare living arrangements for you, and pay you extra, and-“

“You’re being serious?” You say, your hands stilling in the sink water. Eris stares at you pleadingly. You look down at the water. Sure, you took this job and basically it became your life. Did you have much going on outside this job? No. Was your lease almost up anyways? Yes.

You sigh, taking the fork out and laying it on the drying mat. You wipe your hands on your apron, extending one to Eris. “Fine, it’s a deal-“

He takes your hand, pulling you in and embracing you instead. The thin material of his button down does not leave much to the imagination, every toned muscle beneath…

His hands slowly rub up and down on the small of your back, and you feel your cheeks flushing at the rather intimate contact. You wrap your arms around his neck, his voice nearly inaudible next to your ear as he whispers,

“Thank you.”

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Within a week, you'd completely uprooted from the ramshackle apartment you'd been renting on the outskirts of the Autumn court and moved yourself into the West Wing. This place felt like more of a home to you anyway, its inviting ambience, the warmth that radiated from the forest surrounding it; the people inside, especially the little girl you'd grown to care so much for over the past year.

"Y/N's moving innnn, Y/N's moving innnnn," Riley sang, skipping down the hallway barefoot in another one of her play-pretend princess dresses. She had a closet full of real gowns, hand-sewn by the seamstresses that worked in the palace themselves -- however, the little girl preferred the itchy costumes to the real ones reguardless.

"I am almost done, I promise, then we will play," you huffed a breath, sweat clinging to your tank top as you crossed the room once more. Eris was gracious to give you your own space, but... so much of it? You weren't used to having a bedroom the size of an entire apartment, let alone one so ornate. Not to mention, one just down the hall from his master room.

You tried not to think too hard about it.

"Y/N! A cookie?" Riley called, and you sighed, looking around at your remaining boxes. You'd just have to tend to them later.

"Riley," you said, rounding the bend and approaching the kitchen where Riley stood near the counter. "It's nearly dinnertime -- you know we can't-"

"Pweeeeease?" She pleads, her round, honey-colored eyes looking to you with such agony. You sigh, scooping her up and sitting her on the counter.

You hang your head between your shoulders, shaking it lowly. "Riley, your father is gonna kill me..."

She squeals in delight, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you close, her little body buzzing with excitement.

"I love you!"

Your heart warms, and you hold her tight, brushing a hand over her soft strawberry-blonde locks. Its moments like these that you wish you could show Eris, your "boss", your "employer" that this job really doesn't feel like work. You truly enjoy what you do, and his daughter is a magical little thing.

"I love you too, Riles." You say, and she releases you, looking over her shoulder toward the jar of red velvet cookies with a mischevious grin. You reach over, taking the lid off and plucking one from the container. Her legs kick against the cabinets in anticipation, soft giggles of glee coming from her as she watches you break it in half before her.

"Start with half, okay?" You say. She nods, taking it from you and immediately putting it in her mouth. You can't help but smile, watching as she motions to the other half.

"Share with you?" She says. You place a hand on your chest at her words, but hold the cookie out to her anyway.

"Riley, that is very kind of you to offer to share with me! Thank you," she takes it quickly nonetheless. "But, I'm not very hungry right now. I think you should have it."

She nods. "Okay." It's devoured in seconds, the only evidence a few crumbs on the counter. Riley giggles as she watches you brush the crumbs into your hand. Her little pointer finger comes to her lips.

"Shhh," she says, and you grin at her. "Don't tell daddy, okay?" You nod in agreement.

"Okay Miss Riley," you say, dusting your hands off over the trash can. "I won't tell him."

You went for another walk around the Forest House, played tea party and braided hair all before dinner that evening, which was proving to be rather intriguing to the little one that day. She watched as you cut carrots, questioned every spice and oil you'd dumped into the pot, and offerred her assistance more than a few times.

"Is butternut squash soup your favorite?" You ask. Riley cocks her head to the side, playing with a loose string on her Princess Belle dress.

"Hmm... no, it's okay though." She decides, and you continue stirring over the stove.

"I wonder what has you so intrigued in cooking this evening?" You ask, and she sighs, sitting on the wodden floor with her legs stretched out before her.

"I want to do something," she groans, and you nod, trying to understand what she is getting at.

"Mhm, what do you mean by that?"

"I want to... can we do something fun tomorrow?" She asks, and you shrug.

"Well, I like to think we have a lot of fun everyday together, wouldn't you say?"

"Yesssss," she lets out an exasperated sigh. "But I want to go somewhere fun with you. Me and you. Oh, and daddy. When is daddy coming home?" She asks. You chew the inside of your cheek, glancing to the wall clock. He'd routinely arrive around or just after Riley's bedtime -- 8 PM. However, since asking you to move in last week, he'd been coming home later and later. It seemed that he really did need your help with whatever he had going on, the gravity of it much bigger than you could understand.

"I'm... not sure, Riles." You answered, and she huffed.

"He's never home to play with me." She frowned, and you glanced down at her.

"Well, that's not true, he-"

"He never even comes home for dinner." She crosses her arms, her angered expression softening a bit. You set down your spoon, tucking your hair behind your ears as you kneel down before the upset child.

"Riley," you say calmly. "Your father just has a lot going on right now sweetheart, okay? I promise he loves you very much-"

You stop talking when you notice a silent tear roll down her cheek, and your heart threatens to break right in half inside your chest. You reach for her, and she turns to putty in your hands, allowing you to pull her close and hold her in your embrace.

"Oh, Riles," you say soothingly. "Please don't be upset sweet girl," you plead. She sniffles, her cheek wet against your skin above your top. You run your fingers along her hair, quietly comforting her until she eventually calms down. She pulls back, looking up at you with her puffy, but dry eyes and it takes everything in you to offer her a smile as your finger brushes lightly against her cheekbone.

"There she is," you say, and she smiles a little. "Miss Riley is back again." She grins, folding her hands in her lap as her gaze locks just beyond your face. She reaches out, her tiny fingers grazing the shell of your ear before her brows knit and she reaches for her own.

"Yours are not... no... you have..." she searches for the right word, the events prior not seeming to matter now that they've passed. You guide her fingers to the top of her ear, and then gesture to yours.

"Pointy," you say. "Your ears are pointy. Mine are different -- they are round." You explain, and she nods, processing the terms.

"Po-in-ty," she says. She looks at your ear again. "Why do you have... uh..."

"Round?"

"R-ou-nd," she continues. "Ears for?" She asks. You smile softly at her, those innocent eyes having no idea the life she has in store for herself to come.

"Because Riley," you explain. "There are different types of people; some people, like your father and-" you stop, not even wanting to approach the subject. "...your father is going to be a King someday. You, well, you are a Princess." She smiles and nods as if this is already a known fact to her.

"Then, there are people like me. I'm just... well, I'm me." You shrug. "I'm just a fae like anyone else." Riley frowns.

"You are a Princess too," she says, and you chuckle.

"No, Riley, only when we play dress up and I borrow one of your crowns. You are the Princess in real life." She stands, her hands on her hips.

"Y/N is a Princess," she says, looking at you eye-to eye. You raise your eyebrows, not knowing where this is going.

"Riley-"

"Princess lives in the castle." Riley says, beginning to jump up and down. You nod, reaching up to turn off the stovetop heat under your surely burnt soup.

"Yes, but-"

"You live in here with me!" She squeals, twirling in circles. You shake your head.

"Riley, I only live here because your dad asked me to move in-"

"Y/N is a Princess! Y/N is a Princess!" She starts chanting. You sigh, making to stand and remove the soup pot from the stove.

"Riley, you are the Princess! There's only one Princess!" You say loudly over her shouting, and she stills, her devilish grin only cause for concern.

"Then... Y/N is a Queen." Riley gasps, her little hand flying to her mouth as though she's just thought of the greatest idea in the world.

"Y/N is the Queen! In a castle! With the Princess! Is me! and, and, and daddy! he's, he's-" she pauses her jumping and chanting, her hand splayed on the wall to catch her breath.

"Ohmygosh I have to go draw-"

"Ohhh no ya don't," you say, setting down her bowl of soup on the table in front of her and plopping her into her chair before she could take off down the hallway. "Dinner first, young lady."

She groans, quickly shoveling soup into her mouth. "Ughhh, okay, fine." She grins, looking sidelong at you. "I will eat your delicious soup, my Queen," she says in a silly victorian accent, and you let out a laugh at her rediculousness. She giggles too, continuing her comedy. "I will eat, and eat and eat, I will eat because I am a Princess, and you are a Queen, and soon, the King will be home, and we won't tell him about the cookie-"

The two of you are too busy giggling furiously over her sillyness that you don't hear the front door swing open, or the footsteps leading inside. It's only when you hear his whiskey-smooth voice that you turn from the dining table, your face flushing at the sight before you. Much to your delighted surprise, the handsome red headed male leaned against the dining room archway had arrived home much earlier today than either of you had expected.

His small smile was his only greeting, his tousled locks and few undone buttons revealing the exhausting day he'd surely had before he said; "I wasn't aware that I had a Princess and a Queen dining at my table tonight?"

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

#acotar #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of frost and starlight #acofas #acotar smut #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x oc #eris vandaddy #high lord eris #read more #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

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