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loljaeyunz · 13 days

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𝐒𝐔𝐍 & 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 | 𝐏𝐒𝐇

PAIRING: neglected prince! sunghoon x princess! reader

SUMMARY: park sunghoon, the forsaken prince of the south, had always lived in the shadows of jaeyun's favor. but then you arrived. your presence ignited a flame within him that he had long thought extinguished, and he became profoundly attached to you.

but, when the news of your marriage to jaeyun, the very bastard who had usurped everything sunghoon held dear—reached him, his world shattered once again. now, consumed by helplessness and bitter longing, he understands that no matter how desperately you both cling to each other, you are slipping through his fingers. there is nothing he can do but watch as the love you share is slowly pulled away, knowing that no amount of trying can change the fate that’s already been written. but still, he is willing to try.

GENRE: royalty, love triangle, forbidden love, angst, smut, fluff if you squint

WORD COUNT: 9k

RELEASED: 12th september

TAGLIST: @dollyyun @indigoez @shuichi-sama @capri-cuntz @jiminie-08

@isa942572 @tasnim10 @alienqbrain @arcimedais @irers @mitmit01

@304files @sjakewrld @superbbananananana @deezbin @woorcve

WARNINGS: poor attempt at angst, sunghoon kinda desperate, unprotected sex, pull out method, fingering, breast play,

***

sunghoon was born into a world of privilege and wealth. he was surrounded by unending luxury since he was the lone heir to the royal line. his father planned a sumptuous feast to celebrate his birth and mark the coming of the beloved prince.

everything he could ask for was at his fingertips. he was educated by the most esteemed scholars, dressed in the finest silks, and surrounded by attendants eager to fulfill his every whim. he received expert sword training, had access to the most prestigious collections of art and music, and was given a magnificent garden by his mother.

he embraced every luxury and opportunity, fully prepared to ascend the throne one day. but everything changed when he turned ten. the king, to sunghoon's utter disbelief, revealed the existence of another son, jaeyun, an illegitimate child born of a mistress.

people were at ease calling jaeyun the king's son, even though he lacked the royal qualities sunghoon so clearly displayed and looked nothing like the king. yet, what infuriated sunghoon most was the king announcing jaeyun as the crown prince, casting aside the rightful heir who carried the true royal blood.

sunghoon was left in a storm of anger and betrayal, unable to understand how his father could deprive him of his birthright and give preference to a kid who, in his opinion, was just a fake.

jaeyun swiftly rose to become the beloved, kind kid of the castle. and as he became the kingdom's favorite, sunghoon watched in rage. it was almost like a bad joke. nobility, attendants, and even royal officials all admired the mistress's kid, the bastard. they spoke of him as the real example of morality and commended his generosity, compassion, and soft heart. in the meantime, sunghoon was ignored, written off as nothing more than a spoilt, pampered prince who was born into wealth and status but didn't deserve the affection of the people.

the world around him refused to treat sunghoon with respect or justice, and his mother was the only one who stood up for him. but, despite her best efforts, the bitterness that was consuming him remained, and she was unable to protect him from the constant barrage of rumors that were echoing through the hallways and comparing him to jaeyun.

sunghoon hated jaeyun for stealing everything from him, including his position, title, and the affection that was rightfully his. but what he hated even more was jaeyun's constant attempts to build a bond between them, as if they were meant to be brothers. he always smiled and stretched out to sunghoon with his boundless generosity. sunghoon couldn't stand it. he hated that every time he made jaeyun cry or called him derogatory names, or pushed him away, jaeyun would always forgive him. that unwavering kindness served as a constant reminder that jaeyun will always be the preferred one, which only made unghoon more enraged. he never referred to him as a brother since, to him, jaeyun was only a bastard.

but there was one thing sunghoon believed that the bastard couldn’t have; you.

you were the only princess of a faraway kingdom, visiting theirs for the first time when you were seventeen. sunghoon first met you in his garden one bright morning, where the soft sunlight cast a golden glow on you as you were determined to gather a tangerine from one of the trees. he stood in amused silence as he watched you struggle, your expensive dress catching on branches as you failed miserably at climbing the tree.

“i do not recall permitting strangers to enter my garden?” he called out to you, a smirk playing on his lips. the sound of his words frightened you to the point that you lost your balance and fell off the tree. but before you could hit the ground, sunghoon was there, swift and steady, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. he held you close, his grip firm and protective, your faces mere inches apart as you both froze in the moment, his gaze fixed on yours. “stealing tangerines, my lady?”

he liked you in that moment, your wide-eyed surprise and the way you had been so determined despite the absurdity of climbing a tree in such fine clothes. there was something endearing in your boldness, in the way you held your breath as if caught in a mischievous act. sunghoon found himself lingering a little longer, not letting you go immediately, enjoying the closeness. and though he spoke of tangerines, it was clear that his interest had already shifted entirely to you.

but he knew he had fallen in love with you when you began treating him with kindness, not out of obligation like everyone else in the castle did. your kindness wasn’t because he was a prince or someone you had to impress. it was genuine, natural, and so effortlessly sincere. you spoke to him as if he were just sunghoon, not the forgotten heir, not the spoiled prince, but simply a person. it was in the way you laughed with him, how you listened, and how you seemed to see him for who he truly was. and that, more than anything, captivated him.

he sought your attention whenever you came, always finding excuses to be near you. whether it was arranging to meet in the garden again or subtly positioning himself where you would be, he was driven by a desire to be close to you. your presence, your genuine warmth, became the highlight of his days. he cherished every moment, every conversation, and every smile, desperate to savor the connection he had come to treasure more than anything else in his world.

you made him run after you for a whole two years, tirelessly pursuing you with an intensity that left no doubt about his feelings. he begged for your attention, presented you with countless gifts, and did everything in his power to win your heart, all in an effort to prove his devotion to you.

every time you visited his kingdom, he was there, waiting, hoping, and showing you just how much you meant to him, making you feel as though you were the only girl gracing the world with your beauty and grace.

and finally, you accepted him into your heart.

you began meeting him in secret, sneaking away from the prying eyes of the court. you both knew that keeping your relationship hidden was the only way to avoid the mess that would come from the royal court’s intense scrutiny. if people found out, it could create a scandal, stirring up all sorts of trouble and judgment. with sunghoon’s complicated position and the favoritism toward jaeyun, you wanted to protect what you had from all that drama. so, your secret meetings were your way of keeping your love safe and away from the harsh realities of court life.

you knew he truly loved you. it wasn’t just in the way he looked at you, but in every small thing he did to keep you close. his love for you ran so deep, it felt like something unbreakable, something that would make anyone jealous if they knew about it. he didn’t just see you as an escape from his struggles; you became his reason for peace, the one person who made all the weight of the world disappear when he was with you. and as much as he adored you, your love for him was just as fierce, a connection so intense that it felt like nothing could come between you, not even the royal court or the kingdom’s expectations.

though, it had all been an illusion – an illusion you both had created in your minds, one that allowed you to live in happiness for a time. but it was always fragile, destined to shatter eventually.

it came crashing down when your families made an unexpected arrangement – one that bound you to jaeyun instead. the announcement that you were to wed him, and not sunghoon, tore through everything you had shared. the life you had envisioned with sunghoon vanished in an instant, leaving only the cold, harsh truth of the kingdom's expectations.

he thought you were his, that no matter what titles jaeyun held or how beloved he was by the kingdom, you belonged to sunghoon alone. jaeyun could never take that from him, or so he thought. but sunghoon was mistaken. the moment the marriage preparations started, he realized with crushing clarity that even you, the one thing he believed jaeyun could never possess, had been about to taken from him.

sunghoon’s frustration boiled over in the days following the preparations. the thought of you standing beside jaeyun, the very person who had stolen everything from him, sent waves of anger coursing through his veins. he couldn’t understand how fate could be so cruel – how it could give him someone as precious as you, only to rip you away and place you in the arms of the bastard he despised.

that’s why sunghoon couldn’t just sit still and watch you slip away. his anger turned to determination, and one day he stormed into his father’s chambers. he didn’t know that was going to be the first mistake he made.

“how can you be so blind?! jaeyun is nothing but a bastard from the slums, not even your real child. and now you’re marrying off the princess of the east to him? this is a disgrace and an insult to the royal family and to her!”

after sunghoon’s outburst, the king’s eyes narrowed with a mix of suspicion and fury. “you have no right to question my decisions! what is it that’s making you act out so violently?! is there a secret affair between you and the princess that you’re trying to protect? speak now before i take drastic measures!”

sunghoon stood paralyzed, his throat tightening as he struggled to find the right words. fear gripped him, thinking that disclosing any details about his relationship with you would put you at risk. he couldn’t afford for you to be harmed in any way. the words caught in his throat, and his silence only served to heighten the king’s suspicion. unbeknownst to him, this inability to respond only made him appear more guilty in his father’s eyes.

the king laughed bitterly, a harsh, derisive sound that filled the room. “so, you have no defense, only silence. how convenient. it seems you have been hiding something after all.” the king walked up to sunghoon, his hands clasped behind and a sick smile adorning his face. “pray tell, son, do you truly believe yourself a more suitable match for the princess? do you imagine that a mere boy like yourself could bring her the happiness she deserves? do you even understand the nature of women, boy? jaeyun will prove a far better husband for her than you ever could. he embodies all that you lack—kindness, duty, wisdom, and the adoration of the people. most importantly, he will be a true family man, qualities you sorely lack.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, and eyes fell to the floor, his father's words cutting through him like a blade. he felt as if he was nothing more than a pampered fool, unworthy of the love he sought and the life he was born into. he clenched his fists, struggling to push back the crushing weight of his own insecurities.

“she will wed jaeyun, and if you possess even a shred of regard for her well-being, you will abandon this foolish defiance. if your love for her is genuine, then you will step aside with dignity, for any further insolence will only bring suffering upon her—suffering caused by your own unworthy and unlovable nature.” with those final words, the kind left no room for further discussion, his decision made clear.

his heart, once filled with certainty and defiance, now cracked under the weight of doubt. he felt a wave of self-loathing wash over him. the king’s contemptuous questions echoed in his mind, making him question his worth and his place in the world. was he truly so unfit to love you? had his anger and resentment blinded him to his own flaws? was jaeyun truly the better man—the one who could offer you everything sunghoon never could? the thought of stepping aside, of watching you live a life with jaeyun, made his chest tighten with unbearable pain. he had always believed you were his, that his love was enough, but now... now, he wasn’t sure of anything.

a dark seed of insecurity planted itself in his heart, twisting his anger into something deeper, more dangerous. it was no longer just about losing his birthright; now, it was about losing you, the one person who made him feel like more than just a shadow. the idea of you loving jaeyun, of smiling for him the way you once smiled for sunghoon, was enough to drive him mad. but still, the king’s words echoed in his mind: if you truly love her, you will let her go. and for the first time in his life, sunghoon didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that.

and as he watched you across the table one dinner night, his gaze never left you. he observed your every movement as you sat beside jaeyun, the way your hand delicately rested near his, how jaeyun leaned closer to speak with you. every soft smile you gave jaeyun felt like a dagger in his chest. sunghoon’s jaw tightened as he gripped his cup, a torrent of emotions raging inside him.

that should be me.

she should be marrying me, not him.

unable to take it any longer, sunghoon abruptly stood, the sound of his chair scraping across the floor echoing through the room. all eyes shifted towards him, but he didn’t care. his gaze remained fixed on you.

“this charade has gone on long enough,” sunghoon declared, his voice cutting through the murmur of conversation. “i have no time for this.”

the king’s face darkened with anger as he seethed, his voice harsh and commanding. “sit down, sunghoon. the evening is not over, yet.”

sunghoon met his father’s glare with a defiant stare. “i refuse to be part of this farce,” he replied sharply. his eyes then shifted to you, and in that fleeting moment, his gaze was filled with longing. “i will take my leave now, your majesty.”

without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, his footsteps echoing as he made his way toward the exit. he threw one last meaningful glance over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on you with an intensity that spoke of all he couldn’t say. the door slammed shut behind him, leaving an empty seat and a heavy silence in his wake.

that night, sunghoon knew for certain that he couldn’t bear the thought of jaeyun’s hands on you. even the mere idea of jaeyun taking what was meant to be sunghoon’s was unbearable. his insecurities, his pain, all fed into a singular, desperate resolve: he would make you his. you might be promised to jaeyun by royal decree, but sunghoon would make sure that it was his touch, his smell, his presence, that lingered in your thoughts, that stayed with you long after the wedding vows were spoken. he couldn’t let jaeyun steal this last piece of his world, and he was willing to keep you tied to him, heart and soul.

you wander through the garden, eyes scanning the surroundings as you search for your lover. you find him in his garden, as always. the early morning sun bathes the greenery in a soft, golden glow, its light just beginning to filter through the trees. the air is crisp, but you feel a simmering frustration inside as you approach sunghoon, who stands with his back to you, staring into the distance.

"what was that all about last night?" you ask, your tone sharp but not quite angry. it’s more of an irritated curiosity, the kind that demands an answer but without real fury behind it.

he doesn’t turn immediately, but you can see the tension in his posture. after a moment, he glances over his shoulder, eyes meeting yours.

“you can’t seriously be asking me that.” he says quietly, though there’s an edge to his voice.

“i am,” you reply, stepping closer. “i don’t understand why you acted that way in front of everyone.”

sunghoon finally turns to face you fully, crossing his arms as he leans back against the stone bench. his gaze is intense, like the morning sun itself. “what else was i supposed to do? sit there and pretend everything’s fine? pretend i don’t care when jaeyun’s sitting next to you like-” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening.

you sigh, crossing your own arms. “you can’t keep doing that, sunghoon. storming off, making a scene. it only makes things harder.”

“for who?” he snaps. “for me? for you? or for that bastard, who gets everything handed to him while i-” his voice wavers before he swallows hard, regaining his composure.

there’s a beat of silence between you two, the only sound being the soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze. the frustration still lingers in the air, but underneath it is something deeper, unspoken, pulling at both of you.

abruptly, sunghoon closes the gap, his hands finding your cheeks with a surprising tenderness. the suddenness of his touch makes your breath hitch, your heart skipping a beat as his fingers brush lightly against your skin, holding you in place with an intensity that leaves you momentarily frozen.

“you don’t get it, do you, my love?” sunghoon’s voice trembles slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “you don’t get how i can’t bear to see jaeyun near you,” he says, his nose brushing gently against yours, the touch almost tender, as if he’s trying to bridge the gap between your hearts.

“stop, someone could see us.” you attempt to push him away, but he stands his ground, his body staying firmly in place as if anchored to the spot.

“no, you don’t get that even just the thought of him breathing the same air as you drives me to the edge of madness,” he continues, his voice growing more urgent. “you, my love, don’t get how much it hurts that he has what should be mine - that you are to wed him, even when you should only be mine.” sunghoon’s grip tightens on your cheeks, his eyes never leaving yours.

you hold his wrists, your voice filled with emotion. “don’t say it like that, sunghoon. i am yours, always and forever. not a day goes by that i am not yours. i shall be yours forever. my beloved prince, the only thing keeping us apart is the world. i need you to feel and know that nothing, not even a promise or a crown, can ever change the reality of who we are.”

the weight of everything presses down on you in that moment, his touch, his words, the sharp edge of the world you both live in. your mind spins, torn between the life you've been forced into and the one you yearn for. sunghoon’s desperation, his jealousy, mirrors the conflict in your own heart. a part of you wishes you could forget the chains that bind you to the kingdom, to jaeyun, to duty. but reality is there.

you know the risks, the consequences that will follow if you give in to this, yet here you are, heart racing, palms sweaty, trembling under his touch. sunghoon’s love is overwhelming, but a part of you craves it. it’s been so long since you’ve felt that from anyone. he wants you fully, without restraint, and that truth fills your chest with warmth, even though it terrifies you.

but there’s guilt, too. jaeyun. the wedding. the vows you haven’t spoken yet but are bound by, nonetheless. you wonder if there’s a way out, if you could ever find peace in the chaos that surrounds you. you want to reach out, to close the gap that has been forced between you.

despite the anxiety swirling within you, sunghoon’s presence feels like a powerful anchor, grounding you in a way nothing else can. his closeness, his unwavering focus on you, drowns out the chaos and fear. his love feels like both a burden and a gift, but in this moment, you realize how deeply you want to bear it.

“i want to show you a place,” you say quietly, your voice steadying as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze.

his brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together. “come with me.”

you lead sunghoon deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser with every step. branches twist together overhead, blocking out most of the light, casting the two of you in shadows. it’s a narrow, almost overgrown path—one that seems untouched, hidden from the world.

after several minutes of walking in silence, sunghoon speaks up "where are you taking me?"

you glance over your shoulder, offering a small smile. “i know a place. somewhere no one will find us. just us.”

he doesn’t press further, and you continue the trek, leading him through the maze of trees. the forest seems almost impenetrable, the thick canopy overhead making it feel as if the world outside doesn’t exist. it’s as though you’ve left everything behind- the kingdom, the responsibilities, jaeyun - all of it feels far away here.

finally, after what feels like a long walk, the trees begin to part, but not in any obvious way. the path narrows further, and you have to push aside a thick cluster of branches. beyond the trees, the hidden lake comes into view, shrouded by the dense foliage that surrounds it. its surface is perfectly still, barely catching any sunlight from the sky above. it’s a place that could easily go unnoticed, tucked away in this forgotten corner of the forest.

you step aside to let sunghoon take in the view, the two of you standing at the edge of the water. “this is it,” you say softly. “no one ever comes here. it’s just us.”

sunghoon’s grip on your hand loosening slightly as his eyes scan the serene scene before you both. the hidden lake is breathtaking, a secret world untouched by the palace’s watchful eyes. the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the gentle ripple of water are the only sounds breaking the silence between you.

after a moment, he speaks, his voice laced with curiosity. “how did you come to know of this place?” he glances at you, brow raised. “i’ve lived here my whole life, and yet i was unaware of its existence.”

you flash him a cocky smile, a teasing glint in your eyes. "the castle walls are thin," you say with a playful tone, leaning in slightly. "i overheard one of the servants talking about it."

sunghoon lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “so, the esteemed princess of the east takes it upon herself to eavesdrop on the musings of servants?”

you laugh, shrugging. "sometimes it pays off. i couldn’t resist coming to see if it was real. and now..."

your gaze grows more sultry, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes. you step closer, fingers brushing lightly against his chest as you slowly unfasten the buttons of his blouse. the intimate gesture shifts the mood, and the air around you becomes charged with a new, heated energy.

“and now,” you say again softly, your voice a mere whisper against his ear, “i think it’s time we enjoy this secret together, don’t you?”

sunghoon’s breath catches, and eyes darken at your words, faces inches away from each other.

the blouse slips off his shoulders, exposing the smooth lines of his chest. his hand reaches for your wrist, guiding it to rest gently on his chest, where you can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. he holds your gaze, a silent question lingering in his eyes, waiting for you to respond to the unspoken invitation.

without warning, you grasp the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him toward you with a forceful urgency. his eyes widen in surprise, but they quickly soften as your lips crash against his. the kiss is fierce, filled with the passion and frustration that have been building between you, a desperate need to close the distance that has always existed.

sunghoon’s breath catches in his throat as he responds, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your very beings together.

he pulls away just enough to catch his breath. he speaks with a voice rough and filled with an almost primal need. “do you crave me too like i crave you, y/n?” then, he moves to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a series of burning kisses along your collarbone. "like i crave your body, every inch of you,” he murmurs between kisses, "the way you feel against me, the sound of your breath, the taste of your skin. please, i need all of you."

“then have me, my beloved. have me all to yourself.”

your breaths mingle, warm and ragged, as you stay close. sunghoon’s hands slide to the front of your kirtle, his fingers finding the strings that are secured at your chest and he works them loose.

as the kirtle loosens, it gradually falls away from your shoulders, exposing your bare body to his appreciative eyes. sunghoon’s gaze roams over you with unabashed hunger, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts, the softness of your skin. the sight of you, fully revealed, makes his breath quicken and his eyes darken with raw, intense desire. he takes in every detail with a mixture of awe and possessiveness, as if he’s discovering a hidden treasure that belongs only to him.

to him, you are nothing short of a blessing, a gift that he feels unworthy of receiving. his breath catches as he takes in every curve, every detail, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of adoration. he feels blessed just to be in your presence, to witness you like this.

"you’re more beautiful than i ever dreamed." he whispers, his voice reverent, filled with a deep, unshakable awe.

he slowly removes his breeches, freeing himself from its confines, his movements unhurried. as his garment falls away, your eyes linger on him for a moment, drawn to the sight of his exposed manhood. a rush of heat floods your cheeks. your gaze trails over his physique, the hard lines of muscle and the evidence of his arousal, standing proudly before you.

sunghoon smirks at the shy look in your eyes before he reaches for your hand with a gentle yet firm grip, guiding you toward the shimmering surface of the lake. his touch is both reassuring and electrifying as he leads you into the cool, inviting water, the gentle ripples caressing your skin as you step together into the embrace of the lake’s serene depths.

“now, aren’t you my swan?” he murmurs, his voice soft. with deliberate slowness, he reaches out, brushing aside the strands of hair that had been modestly shielding your breasts. “such beauty, such grace. oh my lord, is it all for me, my love?”

sunghoon pulls you closer, his chest pressing firmly against yours as his lips find yours once again, the kiss deeper and more fervent. the gentle waves lap at your skin, but the only thing you feel is him, his hands gripping your waist, his lips moving in sync with yours, the sheer desire in the way he touches you.

his hands roam over your back, the cool water contrasting with the fire that blazes between your bodies. you feel the way his fingers press into your skin, the possessive grip of someone who has craved you for too long, unable to hold back anymore. his breath is ragged against your lips, each kiss hotter and hungrier than the last.

"you're all mine, right?" he whispers between kisses, and you can only softly hum as an answer.

his lips move down the column of your neck, nipping and sucking gently at the sensitive skin, drawing soft moans from your lips. hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh beneath the water. a rush of heat surges through you, mixing with the cool sensation of the lake, and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, steadying yourself as his kisses grow more fervent, more desperate.

sunghoon's lips trail lower, grazing over your collarbone and down toward your chest, his breath hot against your damp skin. every touch sends shivers through your body, your pulse quickening as his hands explore the curves of your waist, your hips, your ass. he tilts his head back up, head resting on the valley of your tits, eyes locked onto yours with a look of pure hunger.

the voice is low and hoarse as he breathes against your skin, “please tell me you’re mine, i need to hear it. i need to know you’re only mine. that no one else will ever have you like this.” his hands tighten slightly on your waist, his gaze burning into yours, desperate for your answer. "say it, please… that you’re mine, now and always." his breath shaky, waiting for you to respond, his need for reassurance almost as overwhelming as his desire for you.

you cradle his cheeks in your hands, your eyes softening. “in this moment, and every moment that follows, i am wholly yours. i promise you, my dearest, no one else will ever touch me, love me, or have me like you do. only you have this piece of me, forever.” you pull him for a kiss, pouring every ounce of your affection and reassurance into it. his grip on you tightens, and before you realize it, he has you pressed up against the edge of the lake, your back against the cool stone as he leans into you, while his lips continue to caress yours with a loving, unhurried rhythm.

his hands roam freely now, the water sloshing gently around you as his touch becomes bolder. the tension that’s been simmering between you for so long has reached its breaking point, and neither of you can resist it any longer. you can feel every inch of him against you, the heat, the longing, the urgency in the way he holds you.

“i want you to make love to me, sunghoon.”

sunghoon’s eyes darken with a fierce intensity as he hears your plea. he pulls back slightly, his breath mingling with yours. “i’ve waited my whole life for this, my love.”

as sunghoon captures your lips once more, the kiss quickly deepens. he bites down on your lower lip, causing you to whine into his mouth. seizing the opportunity, he slips his tongue into your moist heat, seeking yours with fevered urgency. his movements are messy, growing hungrier and sloppier with each passing second. the way his mouth devours yours, the slick heat of his tongue against yours, makes it feel as though you’re both desperately trying to claim every part of the other.

your breath falters when his hands move to your breasts, fingers curling around them with a firm, possessive grip. his palms brush over your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. it overwhelms you, and you break the kiss, your forehead resting against his as you pant softly. a thin string of saliva still connects your parted lips. unwavered, he begins to massage, kneading the soft flesh with a steady rhythm, your gazes locked. the pressure of his hands send waves of slick pooling in your cutn, each squeeze making your nipples tighten even more.

then he lowers himself to the same height as your nipples, taking one into his mouth and beginning to suck it like a parched man at an oasis. with a consuming rhythm, his tongue tracing circles around the sensitive peak. he lavishes the same attention on the other, his fingers deftly rolling and pinching the neglected nipple. the combined sensations of his warm, eager mouth and the stimulation from his fingers cause a moan to escape your lips before you can hold it back. you bite down on your lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle the sound, but your body betraying you as quiet gasps escape.

he pulls away from your nipple with a wet, audible pop and looks at you, his eyes dark with desire. “don’t try to hold back,” he commands, though his voice betrays a hint of need. “i want to hear every sound you make.”

he then attaches himself to your other nipple, wetting it with his saliva like the other one. your hands instinctively grip his hair as you arch your back. his mouth works eagerly, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless rhythm. his fingers dip into the water and finds your clit, teasing it with skilled strokes.

the pleasure builds swiftly as he lavishes your breasts with attention, his hot, insistent mouth working in tandem with the relentless stimulation below. the overwhelming sensations push you to the edge, gasps and moans escaping uncontrollably as your body trembles under his touch.

“sunghoon… it feels-” you say, tightening your grip on his hair as you battle to retain your control.

“good? this is nothing compared to what i am about to make you feel, my love.”

suddenly, a loud moan erupts from you as his finger breaches your entrance, sliding inside with a slow, deliberate motion. the new sensation leaves you breathless, your body instinctively pushing back against his hand, wanting more. the sight of him never taking his eyes from your face as he keeps busying his mouth, sucking and teasing your nipple, is an utterly lewd display, his gaze filled with raw desire.

he curls his finger within you, searching for that perfect spot to send you spiraling further into pleasure. every movement of his hand is synchronized with his mouth on your chest, his touch igniting a fire that spreads through your entire body. you feel yourself losing control, the overwhelming pleasure making it harder to hold back your cries.

he inserts another finger inside you, scissoring them to ease you open nicely. you feel a deep pressure building within, like a tightly wound knot yearning to be undone. with each stroke, the tension winds tighter, leaving you aching with a desperate need for release.

“i… ugh please, sunghoon, i wanna cum,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the urgency of your desire. hearing the desperation in your voice, his fingers hasten, thrusting deeper with a renewed fervor. every stroke sends a jolt of pleasure through you, drawing you closer to the brink, your body instinctively arching towards him as the pressure inside you mounts, ready to burst.

the lake water churns around his rapidly moving wrist, splashing against parts of your body that have remained dry until now. the sudden coolness of the water only heightens your climax as you come undone on his fingers. your broken moans reverberate through the forest, and you can only cling to the hope that no one is nearby to hear you.

sunghoon helps you ride out your orgasm before withdrawing his fingers. gently, he brushes the damp strands of hair clinging to your face from sweat, then cups your face in his hands and captures your lips in a searing kiss. lips moving against each other in a harmonious rhythm, and his tongue dances with yours in a way that feels both urgent and consuming.

sunghoon's fingers trail down the sides of your thighs, gripping hard enough to leave marks, his eyes burning with desire as they wordlessly tell you to prepare yourself.

with a throaty sound, he pulls you up in one swift motion, your body rising from the water as his hands grip your thighs tightly. your legs instinctively wrap around him, pulling him against you as he steps forward, pinning you against the rugged stone, its cold surface digging into your skin.

you cling to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he keeps you suspended against the rough stone. his hands move higher up your thighs, fingers digging in as he adjusts his grip, making sure you're locked around him.

you feel the tip of his cock pressing against your folds, the thin layer of water between you doing nothing to cool the growing heat. you both whimper when his hips press forward, cock grinding against your folds in slow, teasing motions.

“sunghoon, don’t tease,” you moan as his cock’s tip presses inside you, then pulls out with a maddening slowness. the slick head brushes against your sensitive inner walls before withdrawing, making your body writhe in frustration. you shiver, your hole gaping as it aches for the fullness that was just barely given. “please, just fill me up. i need you inside me."

hearing your desperate plea, his hips snap forward with a brutal force, the head of his cock slamming deep inside you. a guttural groan rumbles from his throat as he fills you completely, stretching you with a pressure so intense it makes you shiver. you moan loudly, your walls clamping down around him, trying to accommodate his hard, throbbing length.

he wastes no time, thrusting into you with a relentless pace, each motion driving him deeper, his cock dragging along your inner walls with an intoxicating friction. the raw and rough feeling of him moving in and out makes your body quiver with intense pleasure.

he thrusts into you with such unrelenting force that each powerful stroke causes you to bounce up and down on his cock, making your tits jiggle with every thrust, moving rhythmically to match his powerful rhythm. his strong arms, wrapped securely around your thighs, keep you steady; without his firm hold, you would surely topple into the water.

while he continues to drive into you, he lowers his mouth to your collarbone and begins to kiss, bite and lick the sensitive skin there. his lips are hot and insistent, trailing a path of fiery pleasure along your neck and shoulders. your mouth falls open in a breathless gasp, the only sounds escaping you are guttural moans of ugh ugh ugh that reverberate in the air.

as the pressure inside you mounts, your fingers claw at his back, leaving angry red trails as you cling to him for support. each thrust he delivers feels impossibly deep, his cock stretching you to the brink with every powerful movement.

your climax builds rapidly, and you clench around him, muscles spasming around his cock with intense need. you can hardly keep your moans in check, the sound of your gasps mingling with the rhythmic slapping of flesh.

feeling the way your pussy tightens around him, he growls low and rough into your ear, his voice dripping with lust. “you’re so tight, my love, i can barely hold on. perfectly wrapped around my cock like you were made for me.” his filthy words drive you even closer to the edge. your head is thrown back, eyes shut tight, your body quaking uncontrollably as you come undone around his cock.

he continues to thrust into you with relentless intensity. your body, already sensitive and over-stimulated from your recent climax, quakes with every powerful motion. the sensation of his hard cock pounding inside you is nearly overwhelming, making it difficult to catch your breath as the relentless pleasure surges through you.

as he feels the pressure building within him, he pulls out abruptly, the sudden emptiness making you gasp and shiver. his grip on you tightens with one strong arm, keeping you pressed between the wall and his chest. with his other hand, he begins to pump his throbbing cock furiously, his movements desperate and urgent. each stroke is fast and rough, his hand sliding up and down his length with a frenzied rhythm as he chases his own climax.

his breath grows ragged and uneven, his groans becoming more guttural as he nears the edge. the water around begins to ripple with his frantic movements, the sound of his pleasure mingling with your own gasps. finally, with a low, throaty growl, he reaches his peak, his body convulsing as thick, hot streams of cum shoot from the tip of his cock. the warmth of his release spills into the water, mixing with the ripples created by your own tremors.

as he finishes, his hand slows, and he gasps for breath, still clutching you. the lake is tainted with his cum, turning the clear water cloudy with its creamy white streaks.

sunghoon carefully lets you down, his hands slowly loosening their grip on your thighs but keeping you close, never fully letting go. your bodies remain pressed together, slick with sweat and lake water, your skin sticking to his as your chests rise and fall in sync, catching your breath. his forehead rests against yours, the warmth of his skin comforting. between you, his cock, now soft but still thick, rests against your stomach, a reminder of how nice and hard he’d just fucked you.

his lips trail across your face, soft and unhurried, each kiss deliberate and warm. the gentle brush of his nose against your cheek sends a shiver through you as he moves down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "i love you," he whispers, the words barely audible but filled with a deep sincerity, his voice low and intimate.

his arms remain around you, holding you close as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. "you're mine," he murmurs, his tone firmer now, possessive but tender.

sunghoon gently guides you out of the lake, his grip both firm and tender, ensuring your safety on the uneven ground. as you step onto the soft grass, he supports you, his hands brushing away droplets of water from your skin.

he retrieves your kirtle from where it was set aside. as he holds it up, his fingers brush your skin, sending a shiver through you. he helps you into the kirtle, the material clinging slightly as it slips over your body. sunghoon fastens the straps with a practiced touch, his fingers lingering on the delicate fabric. each movement is meticulous, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of this fleeting moment.

as sunghoon finishes fastening the last strap of your kirtle, his thoughts drift to the bittersweet reality of your situation. he feels incredibly fortunate to have shared such a deep connection with you, to have experienced your love and to hold you in his arms. the warmth of the moment, the way you look at him, and the way your body fits against his all fill him with a profound sense of luck.

yet, this profound sense of luck is tempered by a heavy dose of misfortune. the knowledge that you will soon leave his side to return to jaeyun and the duties that come with being by his side weighs heavily on him. the thought of you being with someone else, especially that someone being jaeyun, fills him with an ache he can’t easily shake.

sunghoon’s heart longs for more than just these moments. he wishes he could take you far away from the constraints of the kingdom, from jaeyun, and from the burdens of duty. he dreams of a place where the only thing that matters is the two of you, where worries and obligations don’t intrude on your happiness.

for now, though, all he can do is hold you close, cherish the time you have together, and hope that one day, he can make his dream of a life together away from everything else a reality.

“if only we could remain like this forever.” hee murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, holding you close one last time before you part again. as he drapes his blouse over your shoulders to shield you from the morning breeze, he presses a soft kiss to your neck, his touch lingering with a tender warmth.

being with sunghoon is not without its difficulties. each moment together demands a careful balance, where every look and touch is meticulously controlled to keep your affair with him under wraps.

over the years, you've both perfected this unspoken language. a fleeting glance, a slight tilt of the head, or a barely perceptible smile - all of these become powerful tools in your covert exchanges. it’s an intricate dance of subtlety and intuition, where a single look can convey a world of emotions and thoughts. you've learned to read each other's cues with astonishing accuracy, understanding what the other is saying without a single word being spoken.

sunghoon, for instance, has become adept at detecting the smallest signs of your distress. he can sense when you're upset by the way your gaze momentarily drifts or how your smile falters just a fraction too long. a subtle furrow of your brow or the way you avoid direct eye speaks volumes to him. he’s attuned to these subtle signals, knowing instantly when something is amiss.

just like always, he notices how your body language shifts subtly right now too - the way you absently fidget with your dress or how your gaze drifts towards the window, clearly searching for an escape from the stifling room. it’s evident to him that you're not enjoying the conversation between your older brother jongseong and jaeyun, as they drone on about politics and subjects that bore you to tears.

sunghoon’s eyes narrow slightly as he watches you, his concern masked by a composed expression. he can see the restlessness in your posture, the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other. every now and then, you glance at the door as if willing it to open and offer a reprieve.

oh, the ways he could make you feel good, unlike jaeyun who is making you listen political matters that you couldn’t care less.

he could slip his fingers inside you, feeling every tight, hot inch as he stroked and teased those sensitive spots, making you writhe with overwhelming pleasure. his mouth could bury itself between your legs, lapping up your sweet nectar and driving you wild with every skilled lick and insistent suck. and his cock, it could plunge deep inside you, filling you to the hilt and delivering a relentless, mind-shattering pleasure that no other man could ever hope to match.

he fantasizes about taking you in this very room, in front of jaeyun, to prove just how much you crave him and need him to make you forget everything else. sunghoon imagines your body responding to his touch, the sounds of your moans calling out his name, and how he could bring you to a peak of pleasure that leaves you utterly spent, all while jaeyun watches as soon-to-be-bride being ravished by him.

the vivid images make sunghoon’s pants tighten. he shifts slightly, trying to adjust his position discreetly, but the growing tension in his trousers becomes impossible to ignore. he knows he needs to act on his desire, and quickly. sunghoon subtly shifts his gaze towards you, his eyes locking with yours for a fleeting moment, filled with a smoldering intensity. then, with a casual but deliberate movement, he crosses his arms over his chest and leans slightly against the wall.

his stance is carefully crafted to appear nonchalant, but his posture is intentionally relaxed, his body angled in a way that draws your attention to the slight, purposeful pressure he applies against the wall with his hip. it’s a subtle but unmistakable signal, a quiet, urgent plea for you to follow him, to find a way to get closer, and to address the growing need he has ignited within him.

as you notice his silent message, you decide to make an excuse to leave the room. you mumble about needing to step outside for some fresh air, citing a vague headache that has suddenly come on. your voice is calm, but there's an edge of urgency as you quickly exit the room.

jaeyun’s gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes revealing a depth of unspoken emotions. though his expression is subdued, there’s a quiet longing in his stare. it’s more than just idle curiosity; his look reflects a mix of disappointment and a barely concealed yearning, as he silently observes your departure with a sense of unvoiced heartache.

sunghoon, noticing the subtle shift in jaeyun’s demeanor, lets a smirk creep onto his face. he meets jaeyun’s gaze with a knowing, almost triumphant expression before turning to follow you out of the room. the smirk lingers on his lips as he exits, leaving jaeyun behind, whose eyes remain fixed on the door, his expression a blend of wistful longing and resignation.

even as you're bouncing on his cock vigorously, sunghoon’s triumphant grin stays fixed, relishing the intense pleasure that the bastard never can have.

he lays on his back, eyes fixed on the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. gripping your hips tightly, he guides you to ride him harder and faster, ensuring to make sure you don’t miss a single stroke. with each movement, he takes satisfaction in the control he has over your body, his pleasure intensifying as he brings you closer to your peak.

as you cum, your body convulses with intense pleasure, and you collapse onto Sunghoon’s chest, trembling. he groans deeply, pulling out of you with a rough jerk. his thick, hot cum spills between your thighs, seeping down your skin. sunghoon, still catching his breath, carefully lays you onto your side, his eyes fixed on the mess he’s made.

with a satisfied smirk, he strokes your hair, his eyes fixed on the mess he’s made

, his cum glistening on your flushed skin. he watches intently as it trickles slowly down your inner thighs, savoring every drop. his hands, now resting possessively on your hips, hold you close, feeling the warmth of your spent body pressed against him. his breathing is ragged, each inhale a testament to the raw pleasure and control he’s reveling in. the scene of his dominance, with you at his mercy, drives him to the brink of satisfaction as he admires the evidence of his claim.

“you are breathtaking, my love.”

you smile faintly, your eyes barely open as you lay beside him, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. sunghoon’s gaze softens slightly, his smirk giving way to a genuine, if tired, smile. he runs his fingers gently over your skin, savoring the warmth and softness of you against him.

“i want us to leave all of this behind,” he says quietly, his voice a blend of resolve and affection. “this palace, the endless expectations, the life that’s been forced upon us—let’s abandon it all. i need you with me, y/n, far away from here, where we can build something real and ours. a place where no one knows our names, where we can escape from all the burdens and start anew.”

he gently squeezes your hand, his expression earnest and hopeful. “imagine a life where we’re not bound by duty or tradition, where we can simply be ourselves, where we don’t need to hide from everyone.”

as soon as you part your lips to say his name, “sunghoon…” his hand reaches up to gently cup your cheek, silencing you with a soft touch. his eyes are intense, filled with longing, but also with a flicker of hope as he continues.

“i know what you're going to say,” he murmurs, his voice unwavering. “but just hear me out.” he moves closer, his forehead almost resting against yours as his words spill out with quiet urgency. “we could go north, far beyond the mountains, to a place where no one knows us. i could build us a home, nothing grand, just something simple. you’ve always wanted a small house and a farm, haven’t you? somewhere quiet, peaceful, where we can live on our own terms.”

his thumb brushes over your lips, his tone growing more earnest. “i’ll work the land. i'll give you everything you need. no more castle walls, no more titles or duties. just us. we could wake up with the sun, plant gardens, raise animals, and fall asleep under the stars. you always say sheep are cute, i could get you a whole flock if you want.” you don’t miss the quivering in his voice as he rambles continuously, “imagine… you, tending to them every morning, their soft wool in your hands. maybe a little goat or two as well, something to make you smile every day. that’s all i want, y/n—a life with you, away from this place, away from everything that’s held us back.”

sunghoon’s eyes glisten slightly as he searches yours, his grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly. “we could have a life we’ve only dreamed of.”

your eyes glisten with unshed tears as you hold his gaze, a faint, broken smile tugging at your lips. “sunghoon,” you whisper, your voice wavering. “you don’t even believe those words.”

his face falters for a moment, the hope in his eyes dimming just slightly, but his grip on you remains firm. "i do," he insists, his voice low, almost pleading. “i believe it-”

"you want to believe it," you interrupt gently, your voice cracking. "and believe me, i want to too. i'd love to wake up next to you, tend to sheep, live that simple life… but we can’t, sunghoon." your eyes well with tears as you hold his gaze, the broken smile fading. "we can’t just leave it all behind. it’s not that simple as it sounds.”

“please don’t say no, y/n,” he says quietly, his voice cracking with the weight of his plea. he holds you close, his grip firm but gentle.

“i’m sorry, Sunghoon,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “i wish things were different. i wish we could escape and live that life together, but i just can’t.”

sunghoon's face crumples with the weight of your words. his shoulders slump as if the very air has been knocked from his lungs. the passionate fervor in his eyes dims, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. his grip on you tightens momentarily, as if trying to hold onto the fleeting hope you offered, but the strength quickly ebbs away.

the light that once danced in his eyes is now overshadowed by a shadow of despair. he swallows hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging within him. his hands, which had been tenderly cupping your face, now fall limply to his sides.

it hits him hard. that you being with jaeyun and playing the role of his wife is like a knife in his heart. he has a tremendous feeling of hopelessness, knowing that he can no longer fight for the life he always dreamed.

the thought of never being able to claim you openly or stand by your side without hiding makes him feel confined and smothered. he future he wished for is now permanently out of reach.

he knows that, even if he were to try and find a semblance of normalcy, he will always be living in the shadow of jaeyun.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut

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desireangel · 1 month

Text

Infernal Desires | Part One

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When your family is caught up in treasonous scandal, the Prince Regent makes an offer that is impossible to refuse. To avoid what certainly would have been death by his sword, your family promises you to a man who is followed by whispers of violence and sin.

Warnings: mdni 18+! Strictly. Dark-ish ??? Aemond! Bad language, reader is implied to be from a certain family but not really, rushed & unedited. Sexual tension, allusions to sex, mentions of death and killing, Aemond gets angry handsy, hair pulling, mention of the noose bc Aemond would never tell just anyone how he feels. This is mainly a word vomit - I am once again incapable of limiting my writing to one part.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: aaand I’m back with a rewrite of an old fic I started last year! hopefully this is somewhat decent to follow along with - I wrote this while severely sleep deprived, stressed about procrastinating my uni work and knackered from work. Let me know if we are even interested in a part 2 or if I’ve missed any warnings!

It is a debt to be paid and an alliance to be made, that is all it is.

Easy enough for them to say. After all, it was you who suffered from the mistakes of your family and not them. They may as well have left you to the dangers of King’s Landing with nothing more than a shattered dignity and the tears that trailed down your cheeks.

Shit. Crying wasn’t going to do anything and while you never intend to present yourself as weak to anyone, there was nothing you could do to stop the angry tears that welled in your eyes. You wondered if your parents truly pained to see their daughter cry or if the tremble in your mother’s lip was nothing more than a pretence.

Your father stared at the ground by your feet. “It was not meant to come to this.”

“But it did. Are you really going to barter me to–”

“We are not bartering you. Stop saying that,” He snapped. “All you will have to do is take the title as his wife and give him children. It cannot be that bad.”

The glare you sent his way was full of malice and rage. How could he say that? You were better than that, smarter than that and the thought of being reduced to who knows what that man had in store for you as his wife - they may as well have cut your tongue out and made you a slave. Knowing that your family, whom you loved endlessly, were so sure of selling you so easily to a cruel man like Aemond Targaryen caused a dull ache in your chest.

It seemed hard to breathe through the betrayal, your chest heavy with deceit and heartbreak. Had you known what your father had been planning, you could have run away and found a way to survive without the comfort of your family lands.

“What Prince Aemond has offered has saved us,” Jericho stood leaning lazily against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at you, his little sister who would have died before leaving him to such a fate. “I do not expect you to understand the complex relationships between our Houses but consider this, dear sister. Would you rather him have the Vale burned to ashes? Have us hung from the walls of the Red Keep? I made a mistake. I know this, and I am sorry but this is the only choice we have.”

There was a tense silence. Jericho had ruined everything with little chance of repair and it was you who had to pay the price. You knew how the Crown punished Rhaenyra’s sympathisers and Jericho had damned the future of your family. What was happening is wrong - war is never worth the price it takes. You wholeheartedly agreed with that but there was something inherently stupid about putting the people you cared about at risk just to send a raven with a conditional offer of a bent knee.

You blinked as you tried to make sense of it all. “Explain it to me. I do not understand.”

“Aemond Targaryen is Prince Regent but I was once his only friend,” Jericho said. You knew he used the word friend strategically. “He extended an olive branch. Repent our House’s treachery through our last daughter and a pin for the Vale on King Aegon’s map. You could not understand how generous that is. Refusing would have been a sentence of death.”

Friend? Generous? You would have laughed if you could. You briefly wondered how Jericho had managed to barter with the Prince Regent before they had taken his head. Alas, it would be of no use to ask a question you would get no answer to. The men of these walls underestimated the capabilities of a woman’s mind and a woman’s strength.

“All he gains is something to hold over your head, brother. Paying off your mistakes with my life? You have heard the stories - he has become a cruel man. Warming his bed when he sees fit and making his heirs will not fix what you did. Many have been executed for far less.”

Your father cleared his throat. “It is our only option. We have nothing more to offer in place and a ruined reputation. The family name holds the last of our power and without what little power we have left, your brother and I would lose the Vale. It is a miracle we have not already.”

“The Prince wants to dangle you over our heads? Fine. If that is what it takes for him to spare our lives.” Jericho’s voice was so rough. It was the first time you had seen him as anything other than gentle to you and you felt a heaviness at the sight of him so distressed.

There was not much left for you outside of the empty empire that your father’s father had built for your family. At least you still had each other and your titles, and despite the situation that they’ve forced you into, at the end of the day, you all loved each other to death. It would have been a death sentence but you could have run away instead, could have found a life for yourself somehow. But how could you live with yourself knowing that you’d damned those you love because of your pride and fear of life as a princess?

So reluctantly and tearfully, you nod your head and silently agree.

Aemond wondered whether he was making the right decision by giving Jericho a second chance. If it were anyone else, he would have had them hung without a second thought. But you and your brother were different.

It was a moment of weakness, an inexcusable lapse in his judgment to have spared Jericho’s treason because he remembered you and to have further justified his actions by claiming the Vale through your betrothal. While it was his first and foremost motivation and Aemond was bound by duty to take advantage of the opportunity, it was not the only reason he had suggested the idea at the Small Council.

There was hardly a person in Aemond’s life whom he could call a friend. There was not a soul in this world that Aemond could truly trust, not even Jericho who had been by his side for the first parts of his childhood.

Nor you, who had at once shown him kindness in his youth despite the mockery that was often made of him. You had only accompanied your brother and father to King’s Landing on three occasions, and what started as your soft conversation and willing smiles for him had left his memory entirely until he heard word of Jericho’s treacherous message.

Aemond, despite your attempts at friendship, had never returned your kindness. In truth, he didn’t know how to. And quickly, your smiles had turned to frowns and your attempts at friendly talk had become sarcastic remarks and quiet scoffs.

It was also a moment of selfishness and a decision made with nothing more than foolish curiosity. You had always been there, in the back of the picture and unnoticed by everyone apart from him. There was not a person in this world who had peaked his curious desire more than you and the two of you had spent the brief occasions together bickering and pestering one another. Regardless of your initial efforts, Aemond was never your friend. While he had never actually done you wrong before now, you were never really fooled by his deceiving nonchalance and forced manners.

The indifference that you had for each other had no cause to fade. Even less so with the recent murderous, vile stories of Aemond the Kinslayer who killed his nephew and (while most wouldn’t dare utter the words beyond certain walls) who may have crippled his own brother with Vaghar’s fire. You had almost fallen to your knees upon hearing of your betrothal to such a man.

Aemond was now twenty and three but when it came to whatever distorted plot he was planning, he felt juvenile. Your brother and your father were the perfect pawns. You were the perfect leverage - perhaps a pawn yourself. As much as he convinced himself that having you in his possession would mean he would have invaluable power over your House to do exactly as he wanted within his twisted politics while he has the power to do so, the idea of having you in the palm of his hand, in his control and eventually beneath his body was exciting.

He was never one for meaningless entertainment. But what was the harm in indulging himself this once?

It was a formality. Being presented at King’s Landing for the first time to your future husband, his family and to those whom he currently ruled over as the woman to be his wife.

You had changed since the last time Aemond had seen you. It had only been two years but he would never admit to his surprise at just how different you had become from the cowering young girl he remembered you to be when you were just ten and four.

He had rushed through the formalities of greeting you and your family, welcoming you into what would come to be your home. The lunch was painfully awkward as little was said between anyone. The Dowager Queen spoke formally yet kindly with your mother and shared a few words with you but you could barely engage with her conversation under the burning gaze of the Prince Regent who sat across from you.

It was over quickly, before anyone could start bickering about the traitorous reasons behind your presence. Aemond shortly convinced his mother that no escort would be needed, so long as Ser Criston Cole was there when you both were left to acquaint yourselves in private. You gulped as you were lead shamelessly into the Prince’s chambers.

Aemond only set a glance upon Ser Criston and the raven haired man took his place outside the closed doors.

You were sure that the Prince’s chambers were as large as an entire wing of your own home yet you felt claustrophobic under his gaze. His eye was hellfire as he silently stared at you, leaning back in his chair and resting his fingers under his chin. There was little you could do but stare back at him, anxiously tapping your foot on the marbled floor.

In your eyes, Aemond had always been torturously beautiful. But here, as his gaze fell upon you and you shared the silence of his personal space, he was ethereal. It caused your breath to catch as you waited for him to address you first.

Shakily, you broke the silence. “Why am I here, my Prince?”

“You are to be my wife,” He drawled, fingers tapping on the desk that he lazily dragged his hand along. What a stupid question. “That is why you are here.”

“I believe you know that is not what I ask, my Prince.” You scowled at him. It wasn’t smart to talk to him in such a way, you knew that. He is Prince Regent, after all. A memory of your brother’s warning to be careful flashed briefly in your mind.

His expression deceivingly calm, Aemond considered putting you in your place. He may be behaving in a way he does not recognise of himself but he would not tolerate your disrespect.

Instead, he somewhat answered your question. “We will be married so that your brother’s treason shall be forgiven and your House will be sworn to the King. You will stay here, in my chambers. Do whatever the seven hells you please, it does not matter.”

In any other instance, Aemond would have detested the sight of you gaping at him, stumbling over your words stupidly as your wide eyes confidently held his own. You had changed. Or maybe he had just been blind to the perfect curves of your body or the way you looked at him like he ruled the realms, so submissive yet so full of fire. So tempting.

He’d condemn himself to the noose before ever admitting to his thoughts.

“What?” you almost gasped. There was no chance that you could stay in his chambers like this. You were sure the whispers of the Keep were already running amok with Aemond’s insistence on isolating the two of you behind the doors to his private chambers.

Aemond took pleasure in the way you seethed. “I will not make it so easy for you to return to scheming with your treasonous family.”

You could hit him. If he weren’t a Prince, you would have. “You are keeping me prisoner? For something I have had no such hand in?”

“No,” he stood from the table and in two strides, he was in front of you. So close that you could smell the woody oils he bathed in mixing with the smell of his musk and the leather of his clothes. You shuddered. “Maybe I am. Call it what you like. You can do as you please, eat as you please, wear whatever you please, you can explore these halls as you wish. I do not care. But you will listen to me and it will all be as per my will.”

Before you could respond, Aemond continued. “For all they know, I’ve made it clear to everyone that you will stay in the chambers that I have chosen for you, on the other side of that wall.”

Aemond’s eye was a violet-blue inferno as it held yours. He was closer now and you let your eyes drag across every part of his devastating face, swallowing at his beauty and wondering what lay under the leather of his eye patch.

Struggling not to lose your breath, not to lean in to touch him and feel him, you held your head high and turned your back to him. “Fuck you.”

A gasp fell from your lips as Aemond’s hand found the back of your head in an instant, slender fingers weaving into your hair gently before closing into a tight fist and pulling back slowly so that you were forced to look up at the roof, the back of your head resting against his chest. His other hand wrapped around your waist, holding you back firmly against him. The tightness of his grip on your hair ached and left you dizzy, an unfamiliar longing for his hands to find more of you with the same fervour had you holding back a pathetic whine.

Suddenly, you were burning from head to toe, a fire setting on your skin as he held you roughly against him, so close that you felt the feather light tickle of his breath grazing your hair when he spoke. He was scorching you through the leather of his tunic, your dress doing little to shield you from the heat of his body.

More than his anger, Aemond’s amusement made the air heavy. The way he unashamedly let his stare fall upon your lips, tucked between your teeth as you struggled to hold your glare, had your breath snatched from your lungs.

Aemond dropped his head enough so that his lips lingered just under your ear, close enough that you could hear him draw in a breath, dragging his nose across the dip where your jaw met your neck. Your face burned at how shamelessly he had inhaled your soft scent.

“Is that how you talk to your Prince?” Aemond’s voice was low, dripping with a dominance that commanded respect. Placing his free hand on your left shoulder, he slowly turned you to face him, making sure to keep you tightly pressed against him.

Aemond was disastrously beautiful. The curve of his nose, the strength in his jaw, the way his scar painted the top of his cheek, the soft fall of his pin straight hair and the soft shine of his lips which you so badly yearned to feel. You cursed yourself for thinking such a thing as his low voice broke you out of your distraction. “This is my home. Right now, all of Westeros is mine. You are here because I said so, because I own everything. Everything. Including you. You would do well to remember your place while you are here, pretty thing.”

The fire in your blood was rage. You had never felt such desire that had your body craving another. It was anger driving you mad, it had to be. Despite your better judgment, you whispered once again, “Fuck. You.”

His jaw ticked and with a strong yank, you were flush against him. The pounding of your heart was violent and you were sure he could feel it against his chest but you were stuck under his burning gaze. Aemond was angry. And you couldn’t help but think that it suited him. It made him all the more desirable.

Aemond was strong and hard against your body, tense as he held you so intimately yet so roughly.

By the gods, you couldn’t even think. What was happening?

“My Pr-”

“Quiet,” Aemond commanded. His deep voice, raspy with lust and with rage sent shockwaves down your spine. “What a mouth on you, my Lady. Fuck me, is that so?”

You muttered incoherently under your breath, the desire and the fear making your eyes flutter shut as you trembled against the Prince who held you so roughly.

“Hm,” Aemond chuckled when you let out a short whimper. He squeezed you tightly, his voice low and dark. “I could have you begging on your knees, crying for my cock all day and all night and you would never deserve it. You best careful, ñuha dāria, because I can ruin you.”

Another gasp fell from your lips and Aemond took pleasure in the way you squirmed against him, thighs pressing together as you felt the flush of his words through your body. He hummed, you were so reactive. Somehow, you fit perfectly against him, so that he could feel every little tremor he caused in your body, every goosebump that he placed on your skin. His gaze never left you, his resolve solid as iron.

Your mouth watered at the thought of the things that Aemond could do to you. Thoughts you had never imagined yourself capable of harbouring, especially not for a man like Aemond Targaryen. It overwhelmed you - he overwhelmed you.

But all you had to do was glance at the map that was splayed over his table and the weaponry he had discarded at the foot of it before you were trying to shove him away from you. Aemond stepped away from you upon noticing the panic in your movements. You barely noticed the flash of worry that passed through his features before he so skilfully replaced his mask.

The rise and fall of your chest was heavy and you had the sudden urge to punch the sultry smirk right off of Aemond’s face. That was not okay. Right now, you didn’t even want to think about the way your body reacted to him, they way you would have let him have his way with you right there and then despite all the consequences that would rain down upon you.

“I will not stay in here,” You closed your eyes to avoid his stare, chest heaving as you caught your breath and reminded yourself of the formalities of Aemond’s title. And of the possible repercussions for denying him so stubbornly. “My Prince, it is not appropriate.”

You hadn’t heard him make his way across the room until you heard the door open. Aemond hesitated, his resolve was not as strong as he had thought given the way his heart was beating as if he had run a mile. The strain at his pelvis was almost painful and his hands urged to be tangled in your hair again, squeezing your hips, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath your clothing. Perhaps you weren’t wrong and Aemond returned to his hardened self at the thought of being unable to control his desires.

“Hm,” he drawled, stoic as ever and standing tall at the doorway and gazing down at you over his shoulder with a red hot spark in his eye. Aemond’s mind raced with a million words, many in the alluring language he knew you could not understand and they all tasted dangerous on his tongue. “You are not wrong. It is not appropriate until we are wed, ñuha dāria.”

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spacedace · 1 year

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Had a dc x dp brain worm, feel free to use as a prompt <3

Sidenote, I decided to get fancy with the Ancients titles because of course I did lol

Shifting Where = Space (Danny)

Eternal When = Time (Clockwork)

Ever Onward = Speedforce (Ellie)

---

Bruce watched the footage again.

And again.

Again.

It didn’t make sense.

A week ago every television, radio, computer, phone - even the LED billboards - had been taken over to deliver a message. Across the United States. In every territory it held. Every military base. Down in the depths of the oceans where American submarines tried to creep past Atlantian patrols. In the endless cold white of Antarctica. Even far above in the International Space Station. Any place the United States Government had control over, any place one of its citizens found themselves. There was the message.

The face of an entity, human in shape but not in form. Hair as gleaming white as starlight, eyes bright as the twisting dance of the Aurora Borealis, skin as cold and blue as the tail of a comet. The entity wore armor as black as the depths of space with a crown to match, the later glinting and shifting with the twisting birth and death of galaxies. A cloak of nebulae danced down his shoulders, eclipsing the world beyond the entity entirely.

He named himself, jaw tight, expression serious.

High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms.

The Shifting Where. Son of the Eternal When. Father of the Ever Onward. His Epitaphs many and ever growing. The True Balance. The Bridge Between. The Devourer of Dark. The Last Child of Between. The Great One.

King of the Dead. King of the Infinite Worlds. King of so much more than Bruce had ever even known was possible.

King who had declared war. Who marshaled his endless armies. Who spoke of warnings, of efforts to reach a peace, of trying again and again and again to find a way to not plunge into violence and bloodshed. All things living come to call him King in time, he had no want or need to go out and hurry that along. But there were no options left to him now. He had tried for peace. He had been denied.

He would not see his people suffer any longer. Would not see those he’d sworn to lead and protect imprisoned by fools who had sworn themselves enemies to all the afterlives. Would no longer permit the vicious cruelty to continue.

The message was a final warning.

A final offer.

Three days, Phantom said. The United States government would have three days to release their prisoners, to begin the process of dismantling the laws that made death itself an illegal act.

If they refused, he would lead his endless armies personally in the war to come.

It had not been an idle threat.

Three days after the message, after Bruce and the rest of the Justice League scrambled to try and figure out just what it was it was all about, after Justice League Dark’s members shakily took turns explaining just how powerful the being that had gave that message was and how much danger the world was in should he and his armies march upon their world, war came.

Of all places, it began in a town in Illinois.

The sky shattered like broken glass above, Lazarus Green beyond, and the Dead poured out.

It started in Illinois.

It did not end there.

Bruce watched the footage of it all, eyes burning as he watched every second of CCTV footage, every shaky phone camera video, every news broadcast.

Most of them looked human enough. Changed in death, but recognizably human once. A pair of glowing teenagers on a motorcycle, a writhing shadow twisting about at their command sweeping chaos upon the battlefield. A young woman dressed to perform with hair a literal flame, burning bright blue and snapping furiously as she played devastation upon her enemies with her guitar. A child with corpse gray skin and luminescent green hair, flickering in and out of Bruce’s ability to see as if fighting against a law of existence to be visible, screaming orders to a skeleton crew from his place on deck of a 1700s ship that sailed through the sky, disappearing into clouds before raining down attacks from above.

There was more. Glowing skeletons dressed in the fashions of war spanning every culture going back millennia. Robots with weapons far beyond the technology they had even in the League. Creatures of myth and legend. Things of nightmares.

Leading them all, as he had promised, was Phantom.

He looked younger, smaller. Just a boy, really, a gangly teenager that hadn’t quite finished growing into himself. One holding power beyond anything Bruce could ever imagine, but still just a child as far as he could see, no older than Tim who’d just graduated high school. Frantic research found Phantom appearing as far back as human history, but those sightings had to have been after his death. Bruce can’t help but wonder how young the boy had been when he died, how much of that youth still clung to him through all these eons.

It wasn’t something he’d let him self consider normally, not with something like this.

A dangerous unknown appearing without warning and attacking with unimaginable power and seemingly endless forces. It was something that would normally eclipse everything else. Something that would make Bruce put aside the ache at seeing a face so young twisted in rage.

But.

He watched all the footage.

Civilians were put in the crossfire. Were shot at and endangered. Were left terrified and scrambling for safety in buildings that were rapidly being torn away by stray artillery.

But never by Phantom or his armies.

The dead, in fact, went very far out of their way to ensure civilians weren’t harmed. Sweeping people up out of the way of falling debris. Shielding them from attacks that would have most certainly killed a normal human. Some dead even helped evacuate, ushering a frightened and panicked populous to safety as gently as they were capable of. Some of the less human creatures - giant bear-like beings with horns and fangs and ice edging their burly frames - even rushed forward to offer medical aid.

When the sky shattered open and the armies of the dead swept in, they ignored the town below. They focused instead on what was discovered later to be the base of a secretive government agency. The dead’s fight focused on those individuals in sharp white suits, bearing weapons capable of actually injuring King Phantom’s people.

It was these agents that brought the fight to the streets to Amity Park. That fired recklessly and without thought or care to the casualties they could inflict. That didn’t seem to care if they killed a hundred civilians if it meant hurting just one of Phantom’s soldiers.

Bruce watched all the footage.

And again.

Again.

Phantom had declared war.

Phantom spoke in his message of being out of options, of attempting peace. Phantom gave three days time for the release of captives. Phantom lead armies who fought viciously but never once willingly harmed civilians.

Phantom declared war, but he didn’t want it.

“Amanda Waller has reached out.”

Bruce didn’t turn his attention from the screens before him, eyes burning as he followed Phantom as the King dove away from the middle of locked combat to shield a child from a pulse of green energy from something like a grenade another agent in white had carelessly thrown. The child was crying but unharmed. The left pauldron of Phantom’s armor cracked and shattered from a direct shot from the enemy he’d just been fighting that he’d turned his back on, a glowing green liquid uncomfortably like Lazarus Water dripped down from a smoldering wound.

Clark stepped up to stand beside him as he watched, face worn and tired. The League had missed the first battle, but they’d been quick to appear at the rest. Phantom and his army ignored them unless they put themselves purposefully in the way of the fight. They were, as Justice League Dark had warned, vastly out powered by the entities fighting. A hulking giant knight made of shadow riding a nightmarish steed had driven Clark six feet down into the dirt when he’d attempted to make his way to Phantom directly to try and talk to the king.

The depth Clark had ended up felt like a warning of what would happen if he tried to get close to the king again.

It probably was.

“She said they have intel for us.” A faint twitch of fingers, jaw clenching, voice flat in that way that told Bruce his old friend was fighting back anger with everything he had. “That she has options for how to deal with the insurgence.”

Bruce shut off the monitors.

He’d seen enough.

Now was time to get answers to just what, exactly, Amanda Waller and the US government had done to cause the Dead to rise and rage.

---

Part Two Part Three Part Four

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #bruce wayne #clark kent #danny fenton #amanda waller #ghost king danny #ghost zone goes to war #space core danny #ancient of space danny #i'm gonna make ancient of the speedforce Elle a thing if it kills me lol #it just fits so well #Bruce's dad senses are tingling #Fright Knight might have been able to bat Clark away but if Bruce gets within a 100ft of Danny it's game over #Bat-Adoption Papers deployed #BatFam up a new member (or three or six)#Amanda Waller is not going to be as persuasive as she thinks she's going to be when it comes to getting the JL onboard with her plans

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tunatoge · 1 year

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all things end - s. gojo x reader drabble

contents: teen!gojo x teen!reader, slightly jealous satoru, pulling an all nighter with satoru while on the plasma vessel mission, NOT PROOFREAD title is based off of 'all things end' by hozier

a/n: originally, this was longer but i scrapped the other half of it cuz i hated it so much LMAO i also woke my dog up to post this

“‘toru? what’re you doin’ up?”

satoru looks at you, his already blue eyes glowing brighter with his activated technique. exhaustion pools in his eyes.

“keeping watch,” he says, turning his gaze away from you and looking out at the okinawa beach. “don’t need some stupid curse users messin’ this mission up when we’re already so close.”

you nod. you leave momentarily and satoru thinks you’ve gone back to sleep only to see you in his peripheral quietly carrying a chair over to where he’s seated by the hotel room balcony door. suguru is asleep on the couch and kuroi and riko are asleep in the single king sized bed. you’d been asleep on the couch next to suguru, tucked into the left arm rest.

satoru had been a little envious hours ago when you’d shifted in your sleep to rest your head on suguru’s shoulder.

you set your chair down and quietly join him. glancing over at his moonlit figure, you take note that he’s still wearing his ridiculous hawaiian shirt from that morning, still completely unbuttoned down the front. you wonder if he’s cold but make no move to ask as you turn towards the open balcony door. the sound of waves shattering against the shoreline fills your senses, the constant and unmistakable sound of water crashing over onto wet sand ringing throughout the air.

“you should sleep.”

you turn to satoru, his head resting in his palm and his eyes refusing to meet yours. his posture is lazy–lazier than normal. you don’t respond and instead stay up the entire night next to satoru gojo, listening to the dark ocean edge its way onto land.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #vians.scribbs

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emmalandry · 1 year

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⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝 ~ ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℙ𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕤!𝔻𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝔸𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣'𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖. 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥? 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ℂ𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕦𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜, 𝔻𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝔻𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕪/𝕊𝕚𝕣 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜, 𝔻𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘, ℙ𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕖, ℍ𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕍𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪, 𝔹𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟙.𝟟𝕜

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Y/N L/N. The most beautiful girl on Kildare island. She had silky smooth skin that was almost like porcelain so dainty and delicate she could be shattered and corrupted at any moment and that's just what Rafe Cameron planned to do. Corrupt her and claim her as his. Every time he heard her sickly sweet voice something grew in him, an urge. The urge to take away her innocence, He was like a predator lying in wait for the opportunity to attack. After months of waiting he found the perfect opportunity to strike. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, Mr.L/N had just finished today's Sermon but he and the rest of Y/N's family decided to stay back at the church letting Y/N return home knowing she had some leftover schoolwork to complete. Rafe knew that whenever the L/N's decided to stay at the church every other Sunday they were usually gone for hours upon hours and today would be no different. He watched as she clicked her heels against the pavement on her way back to her car, her long sun dress flowing in the breeze she looked so angelic. It may seem cliche to say it about the Pastor's daughter but Y/N most definitely was an angel sent from heaven above and every single time it cause a strain in Rafe's shorts.

Just as she was about to reach her little blue beetle convertible she felt a hand on her shoulder she was almost sent into a panic when she heard it, heard him and a wave of relief hit her. "Hey darling, can I talk to you for a second?" she felt her heart flutter and a blush creep up her cheeks at the nickname leaving his lips. She took a deep breath before slowly turning around and looking up to meet his piercing blue eyes. "Sure Mr.Cameron, what is it?" 'Mr.Cameron' he chuckled to himself, the two weren't well acquainted other than the occasional small talk at the country club or church other than that even though they were both kooks their paths didn't cross often. "Slow your roll angel, you can call me Rafe, Im only a year older than you no need for all these hotshot titles." He gave her that smile that could have any girl falling into a puddle at his feet and Y/N's legs just about gave out at the sight. She would smile back at him before opening her mouth once more to speak "What did you need to talk to me about?" She looked away trying to avoid his piercing eyes and he smirked. "Just wanted to tell you that you looked really good today" He played with the hem of her sun dress dragging on what he was gonna say "Your dress really compliments your skin...I was wondering maybe if I could take you out to dinner tonight?" Y/N gave him a confused look, Rafe was handsome, really really handsome and he had a reputation with women around the island.

Kooks and Touron women alike, all of them were far more experienced than her. She never held hands, kissed a boy, she never even had a boyfriend and yet here she was standing in front of the Kook King staring dumbfounded because he just asked her to dinner. Noticing her puzzled look he spoke again, "My whole family leaves for the mainland this afternoon so maybe you could come over and I can make you dinner?" "Are you asking me on a date?" a low chuckle left his lips. "Yes angel, I'm asking you on a date."

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Considering how your day started you would've never expected to be in Rafe fucking Cameron's bed, your thighs squeezing his head while you're begging for your release, whines and small "Oh god's" leaving your swollen pink lips. "So I'm God now princess?" he let a chuckle slip out receiving a whine from you as he felt you clench around his fingers. A smirk creeps up on his face "Oh you like that angel? Do you like thinking of me as a god?" a small "Mhm" leaving your mouth. He grabbed ahold of your face making you look down at him "If you're not gonna use your words baby then ill put that mouth to use some other way. Open up. Now." Your jaw practically unhinges at his words as he stands to his full height and spits into your mouth, "Swallow" he shuts your jaw and slaps your face lightly as you swallow his saliva. "Such a good little girl, aren't you doll?" he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your soaked cunt, repeatedly hitting the soft spongey spot inside you causing you to let out a loud almost pornographic moan as you clench around his slender fingers one last time before releasing your juices all over his fingers.

"You taste so sweet, like honey." he sucks your release off his fingers and climbs up your body landing a kiss on your lips. Looking up at him with your big doe eyes you ask "What about you?" he lets a laugh slip past his lips "Aren't you just so generous, darling?" you bite your lip and avoid his gaze. "I just...I want you to feel good." a frown crossing over her face. He puts his index finger to his chin almost like he was thinking. "Okay, princess...you want me to feel good? Open up." Y/N hesitated looking up to see Rafe rolling his eyes before reaching his hand up to your face and giving you a light slap. "I thought you were a good girl Y/N. Why are you not following Daddy's orders, Hm?" You begin to feel a blush creep up your neck. "I-I am a good girl...I promise." You frown and he gives you a sly smirk. "Then prove it." You open your mouth slowly and hear him unbuckle his belt before hearing it hit the floor. Your eyes marvel at his visible hard-on showing through his boxers. As he pulls them down you witness his cock slap against his stomach and you begin practically drooling.

"You like what you see sweetness?" You nod slowly, too scared to close your mouth to speak before he walks over to you and slaps his cock against your lips. “Don’t be shy baby…Suck.” You take his cock into your mouth and begin to lightly suckle his tip giving kitten licks here and there before trying to take the whole thing in your mouth. You gag when the tip kisses the back of your throat but try again whilst tears are welling up in your eyes. He weaves his hand into your hair and pulls you off. “Careful Baby. I know you’ve never done this, you’re just a dumb little girl you’re not ready to take it all in that pretty little throat yet.” you nod and pull your mouth off him reaching your hand up to stroke him. You look up to see him flashing you a panty-dropping smile and you feel your arousal gush down your legs once more as you clench your thighs together. Rafe's hand begins to stroke your cheek as you continue to tug on his cock. "You think you're ready to take me baby? You want me to destroy that perfect little pussy?" "Yes sir." He smiles again, "There's my good little girl. Don't worry baby. I won't stop until I've completely corrupted that dumb little head of yours."

He rubs his tip through your soaked folds and the moment his tip bumps your puffy little clit you let out a whine. You whisper out a pathetic "Please." and you notice him shift his gaze to your face. "Please what angel? Tell me what you want." "Wan' you to fuck me sir...take my v-virginity." You swallow harshly and feel him begin to push his fat head inside you. "Relax Darling, Daddy's gonna take good care of his sweet girl." Hearing these words leave his lips your body relaxes and it allows him to bottom out inside you. You felt so full, you've never had anything feel this good. You never even touched yourself in fear that god was watching. "M-move...please need you to move." "Oh yeah? You think you're ready for that baby?" You nod, he begins with slow shallow thrusts that have you arching your back into the air as your hands grip onto his satin sheets. "Oh god." You moan out. "Shhh angel, God's not here. It's just me." His hand reaches up to grip your silver cross that dangles around your dainty little neck before he snatches ahold of the chain and pulls you upwards for a kiss. It's messy. Nothing but tongues and teeth clashing together. His thrusts begin to get more aggressive the sound of sweaty skin slapping together filling the room as you writhe beneath him.

His hand reaches up to draw quick circles on your clit. Who were you to tell him no? It was so swollen and begging for attention. You moan into his mouth, back arching into the air as your pussy begins to clench around him. "My perfect little fucktoy, You're nothing but a stupid little girl. Are you gonna cum baby? How about I fill up your tight little pussy? It's just begging to be filled. Want's me to give you a baby. You want that honey?" He breathes out, His breathing is shaky trying to help you reach your release. "Uhuh." you moan out, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape. "Uhuh, what angel?" He slaps your cheek making your eyes shoot open. "Wan' you to give me a baby. Make me swollen and make me a mommy." he lets out a low groan as you clench around him and your arousal gushes against his cock and your thighs. After about 3 more shallow thrusts he shoots his seed inside you and lays his body on top of you. He slowly pulls his now softening cock out of you. He glances down to see his spend leaking out of you before gathering it on his fingers and fucking it back inside of you. "Gotta keep it in there baby. Make sure you become a mommy." You give him a shaky breath in response as he curls up next to you, stroking your hair out of your face and pecking your cheek. "This means you're mine now baby. My darling angel."

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#barry and rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #barry obx x reader #obx #jj maybank x reader #pastors!daughter #corruption #john b x reader #kiera cass #sarah cameron #emmalandry #drew starkey

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hughmanbean · 8 months

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Titles I've Acquired

So I've decided to just jot down all of the titles I made some time ago in older posts and some more recent ones @jedipirateking helped with.

Danny:

First of Holy Name, The Reluctant King, The High Queen, Queen of the Cosmos

Bringer of Balance, Embodiment of Space, Mother of Wrath and Trickery, Siren of the Stars, The Great One, The Inevitable Authority

Danno, Little Badger

Ones we made on a recent post, focused on a joke. Not meant to signify Danny's Rank:

Avatar of Outta Here, Knight of Nope, Sir Scurry Scatter and Scram, God of Getaways, Emperor of the Bounce, Queen of Quick Exits, Prince of Poof, Zealot of Zoom, Duke of Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive, and Dodge, The Great Gun It, Valet to Vamoose and Vacate, Baron von Bail, Scenechal of Scatter, Coup to Clamor and Climb.

Dante:

First of His Name, The Wrathful Prince, The Erratic Prince, Hate-Filled Union Born Anew, The Watchful and Filial Son

Dani/Ellie:

First of Her Name, The Mischievous Princess, The Wandering Princess, Mirror Turned Painting, A Futile Chase of Desire Remade, The Protective and Loyal Daughter

Vlad:

The Avaricious Duke, The High Queen's Rival, The Greedy Interloper, Creator of Shattered Mirrors, He Who Desires That Which Is Unattainable

Fruitloop.

Lady Gotham:

Home of Many, Perseverance in Protection, The Lady Who Commands the Knight, Bird Keeper

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #I mean not really but these are most relevant for it considering my writing so #ehhhhhhhhh #tell me if I should change em #danny fenton #danielle phantom #dan phantom #vlad plasmius #high queen danny phantom #lady gotham

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wearepaladin · 3 months

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Just for fun I’m going to write an outline for an Elden Ring story I’ll never have the time or discipline to write in full, but would be fun to think about. Basically, if Elden Ring were a novel and less bound by the classic Soulsborne mechanic of everyone out to kill you all the time and you could theoretically talk to a bit more folk before they’re running at you with fire and cleavers.

So, more under the cut for those of you inclined for a bit of speculative reading.

So I think the most important thing to get out of the way is the nature of the protagonist, who we have playing the Tarnished of No Renown in this story, because while video games are a fun means of crafting your personalized to fight your way to victory in The Lands Between, for a novel a character who has a presence in the pre established narrative would be ideal. To that end, I have speculated the ToNR’s background based on what can be universally deduced about them based on where they were buried and rose from the Dead when Grace brought them back to life.

So, to that end, I critically went over the game starting zone, The Chapel of Anticipation. It was here where we are interred, along with the ashes of two stormhawks, a recently dead finger maiden, and a Grafted Scion waiting to kill us, with the chapel built on a sea stack with a bridge presumably leading to Stormveil Castle. Stormveil, as a reminder, was originally the fortress of a Storm King, a mysterious figure whose defeat by Godfrey/Hoarah Loux in single combat is considered among the First Elden Lord’s greatest achievements. So, for the sake of the story, based on this little bit of information, I am deciding that the contender for Elden Lord will be played by a Storm King resurrected by the Guidance of Grace, awakened in their tomb to find the Finger Maiden who knew that a lost king was interred here, and where a distant Scion of Godfrey, the Grafted Scion, knew where an old enemy may one day rise.

Thus, a newly risen Storm King would have been active before the existence of the Tarnished as they are now, and indeed, ignorant of much of the current history of the Lands Between and the Shattering of the Elden Ring and ensuing wars. Indeed, depending on the timeline, they would even see Marika as the empress of an invading theocracy and not the long established god queen of the setting. It allows for a protagonist who can fulfill the role of audience surrogate by needing to get caught up on everything, but gives them a more personal motivation than simple power: they are empowered by the force that had slain them and live to see the long wrought consequences of their defeat.

Drawing inspiration from the others titled Storm King in Fromsoftware games, and the nature of Stormveil as the largest and most heavily fortified castle in the game, (arguably anyway) I’m imagining the Storm culture as martial but somewhat isolationist since we don’t see much of their influence beyond what scant remains of their legacy can be found in the castle. The Storm King thus did not combat the Golden Order until Godfrey bested them personally.

The protagonist would then have very personal reasons for removing Godrick from Stormveil castle, not to take his great rune but their ancient home. But in the process of doing so, they meet Melina and the Roundtable Hold, opening doors to a greater understanding of what’s been going on and granting motivation to not just retake Stormveil, but to adress the broken state of the world.

The story the largely goes on as it does in the game: most of the major powers that still remain would be even less inclined to parley with the Storm King than they would some Tarnished with no Renown, but there are some key differences. Limgrave’s population would have a monarch of ancient stock to gather those Sane enough to reside in the safely of Stormveil. The world doesn’t remain static and we see the side of lordship as more than being a godkilling machine, but someone who can lead and have people follow.

Godrick, Radahn, and Rykard are still slain as the three would never be able to be talked down, as they are either determined pretender, ill beyond care, or intending to devour the world respectively. Renalla is never fought as her situation never required a violent resolution. Morgott’s situation becomes much more complex, as while still quite hostile, the growing political influence the Storm King would amass in Limgrave, Liurnia and even remnants of the Redmane army swearing allegiance after the death and liberation of General Radahn, would force a more politically intriguing conflict.

I think that the Storm King would learn that the Erdtree is sealed by thorns by either “diplomacy”’(shouting matches) with Morgott or an intrigue plot involving Black Knives at war with eachother, and lead to the events of the DLC as the SK decides they are unwilling to risk freeing Frenzied Flame or having Melina sacrificed, whatever her willingness. He instead follows a third option, and goes the Lands of Shadow, seeking not Miquella, but Messmer. This would be the beginning of the second book in a theoretical trilogy, as the events in SotE would require the space Rand still culminate with the failed apotheosis of Miquella.

However, as the SK would not arrive in the Lands of Shadow alone, but with political authority tying him to Liurnia and other Golden Order factions, Messmer’s army, having awaited eons for word from home, is receptive enough to allow the SK to engage diplomatically with Rellana and eventually Messmer. Messmer learns of the current status of the Lands Between, meets his sister Melina for the first time, and decides to call off the Crusade after the failed Apotheosis of Miquella. Using his abyssal flame, he then takes his sister’s place at the Mountaintop of Giants, bringing Flame of Mesmer to the tree his mother built her empire from.

While this is happening, the Stormking goes through their own personal journey of discovery as with both the actions committed by the Golden Order and the Hornsent in turn, they find that themself asking the hard question of whether their kingdom’s isolationist policies contributed to the pogroms and cycles of violence by inactivity: could so much harm have been avoided if they or their ancestors been less hostile to the greater lands of the world?

The story then concludes as the ancient powers that have long manipulated behind the scenes interject from various angles as Metyr, the Ancient Dragons, The Frenzied Flame and the Rot all instigate their own attempts regain control of the lands between, with various part of the assembled cast facing their respective foes, Ranni and her Allies facing Metyr and the Fingers, Millicent and remnants Miquella’s followers taking control of their destiny at the Haligtree by facing the Goddess of Rot, Melina and Morgott combining their power against the corrosive influence of Shabriri and the Chaos Flame.

All the while Storm King faces first the Dragons at Farum Azula, revealing ancient ties between the dragons and the Stormking that culminate in a duel between them and Placidusax, and then a rematch between Godfrey and The Storm King, culminating in the final battle against the powers hidden in The Erdtree itself

Then, I think, a variant on the Age of Stars ending would occur. Altered to include influence from the Duskborn and Order endings.

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novaursa · 2 months

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- Note: So, I'll give this a go here. Those who followed my work on AO3 will notice some changes, but the gist is the same. Also, please be kind. If you don't like it, just scroll over it. I post stuff for people to enjoy them and escape the burdens of their lives with me for a while. There is no grand conspiracy here. Just read and relax. Also, this is an AU fanfic and my own personal toxic blend of the show and the book(s).

- Title: zōbrie ānogar

- Rating: Explicit (18+)

- Romance: (Aegon II/OFC)

- Warning: All flags are up for this work. Aegon is also a warning on his own.

- Summary: It was written by Archmaester Gyldayn that on the day Princess Vaella Targaryen was born she was supposed to die. Until she fed upon her twin, Baelon. And when she turned one and five, she sought her end in the lair of Cannibal, in Dragonmont. But instead of feasting upon her, the dragon wept with her. And Archmaester had written a lengthy thesis on how wild dragon recognized a kindred soul in the Princess, as they both dined on their kin.

- Word count: 9 000+

- Parts: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Final

Part 1

The air was thick with anticipation and the clang of swords as the tournament raged on in the fields outside King's Landing. Knights clashed in the lists, banners fluttered, and the crowd roared, their cheers echoing through the castle walls. Yet inside the royal chambers, the atmosphere was tense and fraught with fear.

Queen Aemma Arryn was in labor, her cries of pain mingling with the distant sounds of celebration. King Viserys I Targaryen paced the length of the chamber, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, worry etched deeply into his face. This was the moment he had long awaited, the birth of his male heir. But the labor was not progressing as it should.

Maester Mellos hovered nearby, his brow furrowed as he consulted with the midwives. "The babe is in breech, Your Grace," he said, his voice grave. "We cannot turn it. If we do not act soon, we will lose them both."

Viserys halted, his heart pounding. "What can be done?" he demanded, though he feared the answer.

"We can attempt to save the child," Mellos replied, his tone heavy with the weight of the decision. "But it will mean sacrificing the queen."

The king's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Aemma, her face pale and slick with sweat, her eyes filled with agony and desperation. She had given him so much, had borne the burden of his ambitions and dreams. And now, he was faced with a choice that would haunt him forever.

"Aemma," he whispered, kneeling beside her and taking her hand. "My love, they say... they say they can save the babe."

Aemma's eyes met his, wide with fear and pain. "Do what you must," she gasped. "Save our child, Viserys. Promise me."

Viserys felt his heart shatter, but he nodded, pressing a kiss to her trembling hand. "I promise."

The maester and midwives moved quickly, their faces set with grim determination. Viserys stood back, his hands shaking, as they prepared for the terrible task. He could hear the clamor of the tournament outside, a cruel reminder of the celebration that had turned into a nightmare.

The room was filled with the sounds of Aemma's cries and the maester's steady instructions. Viserys felt his world narrowing to this moment, every second stretching into an eternity. And then, a piercing wail broke through the tension.

"It's a boy," one of the midwives exclaimed, holding up the tiny, wriggling form. The babe's cry was strong, a sign of life and promise.

Viserys felt a brief surge of relief, but it was short-lived. "Wait," the maester said, his eyes widening in surprise. "There is another."

The midwives worked quickly, and soon another child was brought into the world, a girl this time, smaller and silent. The room fell into a hushed silence as they examined her, worry etched on their faces.

"She is not crying," one of the midwives whispered, her voice trembling.

Viserys stepped forward, his heart aching. "Vaella," he said softly, naming her after an ancient Targaryen ancestor. "My daughter, Vaella."

The maester nodded, though his expression remained grave. "She lives, but she is weak."

The twins were placed side by side, Baelon strong and crying, while Vaella lay silent and still. Viserys looked down at them, his heart torn between joy and sorrow. He reached out to touch Vaella's tiny hand, and in that moment, her eyes fluttered open, indigo and bright, meeting his with a quiet intensity.

"She will be strong," he murmured, a fierce determination filling him. "She will live."

The room was filled with the mingled sounds of the babes and the distant roar of the tournament, a poignant reminder of the life and death that intertwined in the halls of power. Viserys knew that this day would be remembered, not just for the birth of his heirs, but for the choices and sacrifices that had marked its passing.

...

A few hours later, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen arrived at the nursery, her heart heavy with grief for her mother. She had loved Aemma deeply and the pain of her loss cut through her like a blade. The celebrations outside had turned into whispers of tragedy, and the joy of new life was mingled with the sorrow of death.

Rhaenyra’s steps were slow and measured as she walked through the halls, her mind reeling from the news. She understood, intellectually, why her father had made the choice he did, but it did little to soothe the anger and resentment boiling within her. She had wanted a brother, yes, but not at the cost of her mother’s life. And now, not only had she lost her mother, but her father had chosen a name for her sister without consulting her. She had wanted her sister to be named Visenya, after their legendary ancestor.

As she entered the nursery, she found the room softly lit and quiet, save for the occasional murmur of the maids tending to the infants. Rhaenyra’s gaze fell first upon her brother, Baelon, lying peacefully in his cradle, a small dragon egg nestled beside him, warm and glowing with promise.

"He's so small," she whispered to herself, reaching out to touch Baelon's tiny hand. His fingers curled around hers instinctively, and she felt a pang of tenderness mixed with her sorrow.

Then, she turned her attention to the cradle beside her brother's. Her newborn sister, Vaella, lay there, wide awake and silent. Vaella was pale, almost translucent, with an ethereal quality that unsettled Rhaenyra. Unlike Baelon, there was no dragon egg to keep her warm, yet the babe seemed content, her indigo eyes staring up at Rhaenyra with a calm intensity.

Rhaenyra knelt beside the cradle, her heart aching. "Hello, Vaella," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I'm your sister, Rhaenyra."

"Hello, little sister," Rhaenyra said softly, reaching out to gently stroke Vaella’s cheek. The baby did not react, her gaze unblinking. "Father named you Vaella, but I would have called you Visenya. A name worthy of a queen."

Vaella’s tiny hand moved slightly, as if reaching out, and Rhaenyra took it gently in her own. She marveled at how small and delicate Vaella was, a stark contrast to the strong and robust Baelon.

"She doesn't cry," one of the maids said quietly, approaching Rhaenyra. "She hasn't made a sound since she was born."

Rhaenyra nodded, her eyes never leaving Vaella's face. "She will be strong," she said, echoing her father's earlier words. "She has to be."

The maid hesitated before speaking again. "Your Grace, we were instructed to place a dragon egg in Vaella's cradle as well, but..."

"But what?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone sharp.

"We couldn't find one that seemed... right," the maid replied, her voice faltering. "The eggs are all warm, but none of them felt suitable for her."

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardened. "Then find one," she ordered. "She deserves the same chance as Baelon."

The maid bowed her head and quickly left the room. Rhaenyra turned back to Vaella, her expression softening. "I wanted you to be named Visenya. A name worthy of a queen," she whispered, brushing a finger gently across Vaella's cheek. "But Vaella is a strong name too. You will make it strong."

Vaella’s eyes remained fixed on her, unblinking and serene. Rhaenyra felt a strange sense of calm wash over her, as if the silent babe was imparting some of her tranquility.

She leaned closer, her voice a soft murmur. "I will protect you, Vaella. I will protect both of you. Mother's gone, but you have me. And I will not let anything happen to you."

Rhaenyra stayed there, watching over her siblings, her heart heavy with the weight of her promises and the sorrow of her loss. She knew that the days ahead would be fraught with challenges and dangers, but in that quiet moment, surrounded by the fragile beginnings of new life, she found a glimmer of hope and determination.

The nursery was a haven of calm amidst the storm, and as the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Rhaenyra vowed that she would honor her mother's memory by standing strong for her family, no matter the cost.

...

The next day dawned with a hushed stillness that seemed to permeate the entire Red Keep. The jubilation of the previous day had been tempered by the tragedy of Queen Aemma's death, but the court still held a flicker of hope in the promise of the newborn twins. Servants moved quietly through the halls, attending to their duties with a solemn air.

In the nursery, the maids and servants who had tended to the twins throughout the night were greeted by a scene of unexpected and harrowing sorrow. The once lively Baelon, who had been sleeping peacefully beside his dragon egg, was now eerily still in his cradle. His tiny chest no longer rose and fell with breath, his eyes closed in eternal slumber.

The discovery sent a shockwave through the nursery. Gasps of horror and grief filled the room as the realization settled in. The King's heir, his long-awaited son, was dead. The dragon egg that had been placed beside him now seemed like a cruel mockery of the life that had been so abruptly extinguished.

"Fetch the Maester," one of the servants choked out, her hands trembling as she tried to comprehend the tragedy before her. "Quickly!"

Maester Mellos arrived swiftly, his face a mask of concern as he took in the scene. He approached Baelon's cradle with a heavy heart, gently placing his fingers against the babe's tiny neck, hoping against hope for a sign of life. There was none. He bowed his head, his heart sinking with the weight of the loss.

As Mellos turned to the cradle beside Baelon's, a sudden and piercing wail filled the air. It was a sound so unexpected and startling that it caused everyone in the room to freeze. Vaella, the silent and still babe, had come alive with a cry that seemed to resonate with a power far beyond her fragile form.

"By the Seven," Mellos muttered, his eyes wide with astonishment. He moved to Vaella's side, noting the newfound vitality in her eyes, the strength in her cries. She was more alive now than she had been since her birth.

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, their grief for Baelon now mingled with a sense of unease. Mellos looked down at the wailing Vaella, his mind racing. It was an old superstition, a whisper from the past: when one twin died, the other sometimes took their soul, their strength. It was said to be a bad omen, a dark portent.

Mellos kept his thoughts to himself, though the notion unsettled him deeply. "It is a tragedy," he said aloud, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "The Princess Vaella has found her voice, it seems, but the loss of Prince Baelon is a heavy blow to us all."

One of the servants, a young woman with tear-streaked cheeks, looked at Mellos with a mixture of fear and confusion. "What does it mean, Maester?" she asked. "Why now?"

Mellos sighed, shaking his head. "I do not know," he admitted. "But we must inform the King. This loss... it will cripple him."

The servants nodded solemnly, their hearts heavy with the task ahead. As they prepared to deliver the devastating news to King Viserys, Mellos turned back to Vaella. The babe had quieted, her cries giving way to a strange, serene silence. He couldn't shake the feeling that something profound had shifted in the balance of life and death within this room.

"I will note this in my journal," Mellos murmured to himself, making a mental note to document the strange events surrounding the twins. He would keep his suspicions to himself for now, but the memory of Vaella's piercing wail would haunt him for years to come.

As the maids and servants moved to carry out their somber duties, the weight of the tragedy settled over the Red Keep like a shroud. The joyous celebrations of new life had been overshadowed by death, and the realm would feel the ripples of this loss for years to come. King Viserys, now a father and a widower, would have to navigate the treacherous waters of grief and responsibility, his heart forever marked by the sorrow of this day.

...

The day of the funeral dawned cold and overcast, the sky heavy with clouds that mirrored the somber mood of the assembled mourners. All gathered before the grand pyre that had been erected outside the Red Keep, a stark testament to the loss of both Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon. The scent of incense and the crackling of torches filled the air, but a profound silence hung over the gathering, broken only by the distant sound of waves against the shore.

King Viserys stood closest to the pyre, his shoulders slumped and his eyes red-rimmed from sleepless nights of weeping. His grief was a palpable thing, weighing down the very air around him. He seemed almost a ghost of himself, hollowed out by the dual tragedies that had befallen him.

A little further down, Rhaenyra stood with her newborn sister Vaella cradled in her arms. She held the babe tightly, as if drawing strength from her tiny, warm presence. Vaella was silent, her indigo eyes wide and watchful, taking in the scene with an uncanny stillness.

Behind Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon Targaryen watched with a mixture of sorrow and concern. He stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. "It's time," he said softly. "Your father needs you now."

Rhaenyra turned her tear-streaked face towards her uncle, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. "I will never be a son," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And neither will Vaella."

Daemon's expression softened, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You are stronger than any son, Rhaenyra. And your father needs that strength now more than ever."

Taking a deep breath, Rhaenyra nodded. She stepped forward, feeling the weight of her duty pressing down upon her young shoulders. She could feel the eyes of the gathered nobles and courtiers upon her, their silent expectation adding to her burden. She glanced at her father, who seemed lost in his own world of sorrow, barely aware of his surroundings.

With tears streaming down her face, Rhaenyra looked up at Syrax, her beloved dragon, who waited patiently beside the pyre. The golden beast’s eyes glowed with a fierce intelligence, and she seemed to understand the gravity of the moment.

"Dracarys," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice breaking.

In an instant, Syrax unleashed a torrent of dragonfire. The flames roared to life, consuming the pyre in a brilliant blaze that lit up the overcast sky. The heat was intense, and the air filled with the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh. The mourners stepped back, shielding their faces from the searing heat, but Rhaenyra stood her ground, her eyes fixed on the flames.

The crackling of the fire was accompanied by the soft sobs and murmurs of those gathered. The loss of their queen and the young prince was a blow to the realm, and the grief of the people was a reflection of the profound sorrow felt by their king.

Rhaenyra looked down at Vaella, her tiny face illuminated by the firelight. "You are all I have left of her," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her sister’s forehead. "I will protect you, always."

Vaella gazed up at her, silent and solemn, as if she understood the weight of her sister's words. Rhaenyra felt a fierce protectiveness surge within her. She might never be the son her father had wished for, but she would be strong for him, for her family, and for her realm.

As the pyre burned, Rhaenyra stood with her sister in her arms, a silent vow forming in her heart. She would honor her mother's memory, and she would ensure that Vaella grew up knowing the love and strength that had defined their mother. The flames roared higher, a testament to the fire that burned within the Targaryen bloodline, a fire that Rhaenyra vowed would never be extinguished.

...

Six months had passed since the tragic deaths of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon, and King Viserys had made a decision that shocked the realm. He chose to marry Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his Hand, Otto Hightower. This alliance was seen by many as a strategic move to stabilize the kingdom, but it also stirred whispers and discontent among the nobles. In a further surprising move, Viserys named his daughter Rhaenyra as the heir to the Iron Throne, a decision that defied tradition and set tongues wagging throughout Westeros.

Another year passed, and Queen Alicent gave birth to a son, Aegon. The realm celebrated the birth of a male heir, but the decision to place him in the nursery with Vaella, who continued to grow normally and thrive, added an interesting dynamic to the royal family. Despite Rhaenyra's attempts to give her sister a dragon egg to hatch, Vaella showed no interest in any of them. After several unsuccessful tries, Rhaenyra stopped bringing the eggs, accepting that Vaella was different in her own way.

The connection between Aegon and Vaella was immediate and profound. Vaella's quiet presence seemed to calm the newborn prince, who basked in the comfort of his half-sister's company. This bond often agitated Rhaenyra, who felt a mixture of protectiveness and jealousy. She would frequently 'steal' Vaella away from the nursery, taking her for walks around the Red Keep or in the gardens, much to the dismay and complaints of the servants. Aegon would become fussy and cry until Vaella was returned to him, a fact that both frustrated and amused Rhaenyra.

One sunny afternoon, Rhaenyra and Vaella were walking through the lush gardens of the Red Keep. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a serene backdrop. Vaella, now a curious toddler with pale blonde hair and indigo eyes, held tightly to Rhaenyra's hand, her steps wobbly but determined.

"Do you like the flowers, Vaella?" Rhaenyra asked, kneeling down to pick a bright red rose and handing it to her sister.

Vaella nodded, her eyes wide with wonder as she examined the flower. "Pretty," she murmured, her voice soft and clear.

Rhaenyra smiled, but her expression quickly turned somber. "You know, sometimes I wish things were different," she said, more to herself than to Vaella. "I wish Mother were here to see you grow. She would have loved you so much."

Vaella looked up at her sister, her indigo eyes filled with an understanding far beyond her years. "Mama," she said simply, reaching up to touch Rhaenyra's face.

Rhaenyra's heart ached with the weight of her sister's innocence and the loss they both shared. "Yes, Mama," she whispered, hugging Vaella tightly. "But you have me, and I will always be here for you."

As they continued their walk, they passed a group of servants who were nervously whispering among themselves. One of them, a young maid, approached Rhaenyra hesitantly. "Your Grace, Prince Aegon is very fussy. He won't stop crying without Princess Vaella."

Rhaenyra sighed, feeling the familiar pang of frustration. "He can wait a little longer," she replied curtly. "Vaella needs fresh air and sunshine."

The maid bowed her head, retreating with a worried glance. Rhaenyra led Vaella to a shaded bench under a sprawling oak tree, lifting her sister onto her lap. "You know, Vaella, sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right," she confessed, brushing a strand of hair from Vaella's face. "But when I'm with you, it feels like everything is okay."

Vaella looked up at her with a solemn expression. "Love Nyra," she said, wrapping her small arms around her sister's neck.

Rhaenyra felt tears prick her eyes, but she blinked them away, smiling through her sadness. "And I love you, my sweet Vaella," she whispered. "Always."

As they sat together in the peaceful garden, the bond between the sisters grew stronger, a beacon of light amidst the complexities of court life and the looming shadows of their past. The challenges ahead were many, but in each other's company, they found solace and strength to face whatever the future held.

...

Two years had passed, and Vaella continued to grow normally, blossoming into a lively child. She spent her days in the company of her half-brother Aegon, who refused to be parted from her for long. This inseparable bond often infuriated Rhaenyra, who cherished her moments alone with Vaella but had to contend with Aegon's tantrums whenever his sister was taken away.

Despite Rhaenyra's best efforts, Aegon and Vaella were rarely separated. The young prince's attachment to his half-sister was so strong that the servants, exasperated by Aegon's constant cries, eventually allowed the two children to sleep in the same crib. It was the only way to ensure Aegon's peaceful slumber.

In the royal chambers, Alicent Hightower, now visibly pregnant with her second child, often expressed her concerns to King Viserys about this arrangement. One evening, as she lay in bed with Viserys beside her, she broached the subject once more.

"This is not healthy, Viserys," Alicent said, her voice tinged with frustration. "Aegon is far too dependent on Vaella. They should not be sleeping in the same crib. It's not proper."

Viserys, weary from the day's duties, sighed and rubbed his temples. "They're just children, Alicent. They'll grow out of it. Let them be."

Alicent's eyes flashed with irritation. "It's not just about them growing out of it. It sets a bad precedent. Aegon should be learning to be independent, not clinging to his sister all the time."

Viserys shrugged, clearly not wanting to engage in another argument. "They're happy, and they're safe. That's all that matters."

Alicent opened her mouth to retort, but then thought better of it. Instead, she turned away, fuming silently. Her pregnancy had made her more sensitive to the disturbances in the household, and Aegon's dependency on Vaella was just one of many concerns weighing on her mind.

Meanwhile, in the nursery, Rhaenyra watched as Aegon and Vaella played together. Aegon's laughter echoed through the room as Vaella chased him, her own giggles filling the air. Rhaenyra felt a mix of love and exasperation as she approached them.

"Vaella, come with me," Rhaenyra said, holding out her hand. "Let's go for a walk."

Aegon's face immediately crumpled, and he clung to Vaella. "No! Vaella stays here!"

Rhaenyra's patience was wearing thin. "Aegon, you can't always have her with you. She needs to spend time with me too."

Aegon shook his head vehemently, his eyes filling with tears. "No! Vaella stays!"

Rhaenyra sighed, knowing that any attempt to separate them would end in another tantrum. She knelt down and gently pried Aegon's hands from Vaella. "I'll bring her back soon, I promise."

As she led Vaella out of the nursery, the sound of Aegon's wails echoed down the hallway. The servants exchanged resigned looks, knowing it was only a matter of time before Vaella would be brought back to soothe the young prince.

In the gardens, Rhaenyra and Vaella walked hand in hand. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the path. Rhaenyra looked down at her sister, her heart aching with a mix of love and frustration.

"Why do you let him cling to you so much, Vaella?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone softer now that they were alone. "Don't you want to have time just for us?"

Vaella looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. "Aegon needs me," she said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "He cries when I'm not there."

Rhaenyra's heart softened at her sister's words. She knelt down to Vaella's level, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I know he does, but I need you too, Vaella. You're my sister, and I love you."

Vaella smiled and wrapped her arms around Rhaenyra's neck. "I love you too, Nyra. Always."

As they embraced, Rhaenyra felt a renewed sense of determination. She would find a way to balance her love for Vaella with the demands of their unusual family dynamic. No matter the challenges, she would protect and cherish her sister, just as she had promised on that fateful day by the pyre.

Back in the royal chambers, Alicent lay awake, her thoughts troubled. She placed a hand on her growing belly and sighed. The future seemed more uncertain than ever, but she vowed to do whatever it took to ensure the safety and well-being of her children. As she drifted off to sleep, her mind remained filled with the complexities of their intertwined destinies, each step a delicate dance in the ever-shifting sands of power and family.

...

Vaella was six years old, and her fascination with dragons had only grown with time. Despite her lack of interest in dragon eggs, her eyes would light up whenever she saw Syrax, Rhaenyra’s majestic golden dragon. One crisp morning, Rhaenyra decided it was time for her sister to experience the thrill of flying.

Rhaenyra led Vaella to the Dragonpit, where Syrax awaited. The dragon’s eyes gleamed with intelligence as Rhaenyra approached, her scales shimmering in the early morning light. Vaella’s excitement was palpable, her small hand gripping Rhaenyra’s tightly.

“Are you ready, Vaella?” Rhaenyra asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Vaella nodded eagerly. “Yes, Rhaenyra. I want to fly!”

As Rhaenyra helped Vaella climb onto Syrax’s back, the young girl’s laughter filled the air, a sound of pure joy and exhilaration. With a final check to ensure Vaella was secure, Rhaenyra mounted behind her and gave Syrax the signal to take flight.

The dragon’s powerful wings beat against the air, lifting them off the ground. Vaella’s eyes widened in wonder as the Red Keep grew smaller below them, the world unfolding in a breathtaking panorama. The wind whipped through their hair, and Vaella’s laughter echoed in the skies.

Meanwhile, back in the nursery, Aegon was throwing a fit. He had watched in dismay as Rhaenyra took Vaella away, his cries growing louder with each passing moment. Alicent, now heavily pregnant with her third child, tried to soothe him, but Aegon was inconsolable.

“Where is Vaella?” Aegon wailed, tears streaming down his face. “I want Vaella!”

Alicent knelt beside her son, her patience wearing thin. “Aegon, you need to learn to be apart from Vaella. She has other things to do, and you need to be strong without her.”

Aegon shook his head vehemently, his face red with anger and frustration. “No! You can’t take Vaella away from me! Rhaenyra can’t take her away either!”

In his tantrum, Aegon grabbed one of his toys—a wooden dragon—and threw it across the room, where it shattered against the wall. His screams grew louder, and Alicent’s attempts to calm him seemed only to fuel his rage.

“Aegon, please,” Alicent said, her voice strained. “This behavior is unacceptable. You must learn to control yourself.”

But Aegon was beyond reason, his cries echoing through the halls of the Red Keep. Alicent stood, her hands clenched at her sides, her irritation mounting. She had tried to reason with Viserys about their son’s dependence on Vaella, but he had merely shrugged it off, much to her annoyance.

As Aegon continued to scream for Rhaenyra to bring Vaella back, Alicent felt a surge of frustration. She stormed out of the nursery, determined to find Viserys and make him understand the gravity of the situation.

She found him in the council chamber, discussing matters of state with her father, Otto Hightower, and other advisors. Ignoring the decorum, Alicent marched up to him, her eyes blazing with anger.

“Viserys, we need to talk,” she said, her voice low but fierce.

Viserys looked up, surprised by her sudden appearance. “Alicent, what is it?”

“It’s Aegon,” she said, struggling to keep her composure. “He’s in the nursery throwing a tantrum because Vaella is not there. He’s become too dependent on her, and it’s not healthy. You need to take this seriously.”

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alicent, they’re just children. Siblings often form close bonds.”

“This is more than that, and you know it,” Alicent snapped. “He can’t be apart from her for even a moment without falling apart. This dependency will only grow if we don’t address it now.”

Viserys looked at her, seeing the worry and frustration etched on her face. He nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll speak with Aegon. But give them time, Alicent. They’re still so young.”

Alicent sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering frustration. “Thank you, Viserys. I just want what’s best for them.”

Meanwhile, high above the Red Keep, Rhaenyra and Vaella soared through the skies on Syrax. The city of King’s Landing spread out below them like a tapestry, and Vaella’s eyes sparkled with wonder.

“This is amazing, Rhaenyra!” Vaella shouted over the wind, her laughter infectious.

Rhaenyra smiled, her heart swelling with pride and love for her sister. “I knew you’d love it, Vaella. There’s nothing quite like flying.”

As they flew, Rhaenyra felt a sense of peace. Despite the challenges and frustrations that awaited them on the ground, up here, they were free. She vowed to cherish these moments with Vaella, to protect and nurture her sister as best she could. For now, they had the sky, and that was enough.

...

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the Red Keep, Rhaenyra and Vaella returned from their exhilarating flight on Syrax. The dragon landed gracefully in the courtyard, and Rhaenyra helped Vaella down, her heart still racing from the thrill of their adventure. The moment their feet touched the ground, Aegon came running toward them, his face streaked with tears and his cries echoing off the stone walls.

"Vaella!" Aegon wailed, rushing to her and wrapping his small arms tightly around her. "You’re back!"

Vaella hugged him back, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "I’m here, Aegon. I’m here."

Rhaenyra watched, her annoyance simmering beneath the surface. "Aegon, you can’t just cling to Vaella like that all the time," she said, her tone sharp. "She needs her own space too."

Aegon looked up at Rhaenyra, his eyes filled with defiance and tears. "You can’t take her away from me! She’s mine!"

Rhaenyra’s patience was wearing thin. She knew it was foolish to argue with such a young child, but the possessiveness in Aegon’s voice grated on her. Vaella was the last connection she had to their mother, and the thought of sharing her sister in this way was intolerable.

"Vaella is not yours, Aegon," Rhaenyra snapped, her voice cold. "She is her own person, and you don’t own her."

Aegon’s face crumpled, and he let out another wail, his small body shaking with the force of his tantrum. "No! No! Vaella is mine! You can’t have her!"

The servants in the courtyard exchanged weary glances, clearly exasperated by the scene unfolding before them. Vaella stood in the middle, unsure of what to do, her eyes darting between her sister and her brother.

"Aegon," Vaella said softly, trying to soothe him. "It’s okay. I’m here now."

Alicent, drawn by the noise, arrived in the courtyard, her face set in a mixture of concern and frustration. "What is going on here?" she demanded, her gaze shifting from Rhaenyra to Aegon, who was still clinging to Vaella.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with anger as she looked at Alicent. "Your son doesn’t understand that Vaella isn’t his to command," she said sharply. "He needs to learn some boundaries."

Alicent’s expression hardened. "Rhaenyra, he’s just a child. He doesn’t understand these things yet."

Rhaenyra’s temper flared, and she took a step forward. "And he never will if you keep coddling him like this! Vaella is not his to cling to every time he wants. She’s my sister too, and I won’t have her treated like a toy!"

Alicent’s face went pale, and she took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "This isn’t helping anyone, Rhaenyra. We need to find a way to help Aegon understand without making things worse."

Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "Vaella is all I have left of my mother. I won’t let him take her from me."

With that, Rhaenyra turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving the courtyard in tense silence. Alicent watched her go, a sigh escaping her lips. She turned her attention back to Aegon, who was still clinging to Vaella, his sobs quieter but no less heartbreaking.

"Come here, Aegon," Alicent said softly, kneeling down to his level. "It’s okay. Vaella isn’t going anywhere."

Aegon looked up at her, his face streaked with tears. "But she left me. Rhaenyra took her."

Alicent gently pried his hands from Vaella and pulled him into a hug. "I know, darling. But sometimes Vaella needs to do things with Rhaenyra too. You’ll see her again soon, I promise."

Aegon nodded, sniffling, but his grip on Vaella’s hand remained tight. Vaella, sensing his distress, squeezed his hand back, her expression one of quiet understanding.

Alicent sighed, looking at the two children. "Let’s get you both inside. It’s getting late."

As she led them back into the Red Keep, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of worry. The tensions between Rhaenyra and Aegon were growing, and she knew that unless something changed, these small conflicts could become much larger as they all grew older. For now, she focused on comforting her son and ensuring that Vaella felt secure, hoping that they would find a way to navigate these troubled waters together.

...

Fifteen-year-old Vaella Targaryen sat quietly beside her father, King Viserys I, in his chambers. The room was filled with the intricate model of Old Valyria that Viserys had been painstakingly working on for years. The delicate spires and towers of the ancient city gleamed under the soft light of the candles, casting intricate shadows on the walls. Vaella's small hands delicately placed a tiny bridge between two towers, her face scrunched up in concentration.

Viserys, now looking much older than his years, his health visibly deteriorating, watched his daughter with a fond smile. Despite his efforts to hide it, Vaella knew he was unwell. The signs were clear in the way he moved, slower and more deliberate, and the occasional wince of pain that crossed his features.

"You're doing wonderfully, Vaella," Viserys said, his voice soft but filled with pride. "You have a steady hand."

Vaella smiled up at him, her indigo eyes bright. "Thank you, Father. I love working on this with you."

Viserys nodded, his gaze drifting to the model before him. "It's a piece of our history. A connection to our roots." He paused, then turned to her. "How was your time with your nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys?"

Vaella's face lit up. "It was interesting. Maester Mellos was teaching us about Targaryen history, the stories of our ancestors. Then Laenor told us about the great sailors who ventured all the way to the Summer Isles. I love hearing about their adventures."

Viserys chuckled, a raspy sound that ended in a slight cough. "I'm glad you're learning and enjoying your time with them. It's important to understand where we come from." He hesitated for a moment before asking, "And how is Aegon handling the changes?"

Vaella's smile faded slightly, and she frowned, her brow furrowing. "Not very well, Father. He doesn't like it when I'm away. He gets upset and still sometimes throws tantrums."

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aegon has always struggled with separation. He has a strong bond with you."

Vaella nodded, looking thoughtful. "I know he loves me, and I love him too. But sometimes it's hard. He doesn't understand that I need to spend time with others too."

Viserys placed a gentle hand on Vaella's shoulder. "It's not easy being the center of someone's world. Aegon needs to learn that you have your own life, your own interests."

Vaella looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination. "I'll help him understand, Father. I'll be patient with him."

Viserys smiled, his eyes softening. "You're wise beyond your years, Vaella. Your kindness and patience will serve you well." He paused, his expression turning more serious. "And how are you, my dear? How are you handling all these changes?"

Vaella shrugged slightly. "It's a lot, but I have you and Rhaenyra. And I love spending time with my nephews. They make me laugh and I enjoy learning with them."

Viserys nodded, feeling a pang of pride and sorrow for his young daughter. "You're a strong girl, Vaella. Stronger than you know. Always remember that."

Vaella hugged her father tightly, feeling the frailty in his embrace but also the warmth of his love. "I will, Father. I'll always remember."

...

In a quieter corner of the Red Keep, Aegon paced back and forth, his young face twisted in frustration. His younger brother, Aemond, sat nearby, trying to focus on a book but finding it impossible with Aegon's incessant complaining.

"They took her again, Aemond! They took Vaella to spend more time with Rhaenyra and her bastards," Aegon fumed, kicking at a loose stone on the floor. "They think those boys are more worthy than me!"

Aemond looked up from his book, his blue eyes sharp. "You shouldn't talk like that, Aegon. It's dangerous."

Aegon scoffed, his face a mask of indignation. "Why shouldn't I? Mother calls them bastards all the time. Everyone knows it's true."

Aemond closed his book with a sigh, setting it aside. "Just because Mother says it doesn't mean you should repeat it. It's disrespectful, and it will get you into trouble."

Aegon glared at his brother, his anger unabated. "You’re just jealous because Vaella likes me more than you."

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite his annoyance. "Why is Vaella so special to you, Aegon? Why do you always want her around?"

Aegon’s expression hardened. "You're stupid for even asking that, Aemond. She just is. Nobody loves me like Vaella does. She understands me."

Aemond rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "That's stupid. She's just a girl. She can’t make everything better."

Aegon stepped closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "Shut up, Aemond. You don't understand anything."

Aemond shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Maybe I don't. But I heard Maester Mellos talking to Mother once. He said Vaella ate her twin. Maybe that’s why you think she’s so special. She’s got something extra from her dead brother."

Aegon’s face contorted with a mixture of horror and fascination. "What are you talking about?"

Aemond smirked, enjoying the shift in power. "It’s true. Mellos said Vaella didn't cry when she was born, not until her brother died. Maybe she took something from him. Maybe that’s why you feel so close to her."

Aegon stood silent for a moment, absorbing his brother’s words. Then, a twisted smile spread across his face. "Good. If her dead brother gave her something extra, then it's better for me. He would have taken her from me too."

Aemond frowned, not expecting that reaction. "You’re strange, Aegon. You know that?"

Aegon shrugged, a hint of madness in his eyes. "Maybe. But Vaella is mine. And no one will take her from me. Not Rhaenyra, not anyone."

Aemond sighed, shaking his head. "You’re going to get us all in trouble one day, Aegon. Mark my words."

Aegon ignored his brother, his mind already returning to thoughts of Vaella and the frustration of being separated from her. He would find a way to keep her close, no matter what it took.

…

The morning sun cast long shadows over the Dragonpit as Jacaerys, Lucerys, Aegon, Aemond, and Vaella made their way to the massive structure. The air was filled with the heady scent of dragon musk and the sound of wings flapping. Inside the pit, three dragons awaited their riders, their scales shimmering in the sunlight. Vaella stood quietly by Aemond's side, the two of them the only ones without dragons to bond with. While Aemond's frustration was evident, Vaella seemed content, her serene demeanor a stark contrast to her younger brother's visible agitation.

As the dragons were led out one by one, Vaella watched with a mix of awe and quiet longing. When Sunfyre appeared, his golden scales glinting brilliantly, Aegon eagerly grabbed Vaella's hand and pulled her along. "Come on, Vaella, let's attend to Sunfyre together."

Vaella allowed herself to be led, her eyes widening as they approached the magnificent dragon. She gently stroked Sunfyre's scales, feeling the warmth emanating from his body. Aegon stood beside her, his pride evident as he showed off his bond with the dragon. Vaella smiled softly, her affection for her brother momentarily overshadowing her usual frustrations with him.

Later, once the dragons were fed and content, Aegon let go of Vaella's hand and turned his attention to Aemond. There was a mischievous glint in his eye that Vaella did not like. Aegon, Jacaerys, and Lucerys huddled together, whispering and giggling before calling Aemond over.

"Come here, Aemond!" Aegon shouted, his voice filled with feigned excitement. "We found a dragon for you!"

Aemond's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and suspicion. He approached cautiously, glancing back at Vaella for reassurance. She gave him a small, supportive smile, but her unease grew.

As Aemond drew closer, the boys stepped aside to reveal a pig adorned with makeshift dragon wings and a painted snout. "Behold, the Pink Dread!" Aegon announced with mock grandeur, barely able to contain his laughter.

Jacaerys and Lucerys burst into laughter, pointing at the pig and doubling over with mirth. Aemond's face turned bright red with humiliation, his eyes welling up with tears. Vaella's expression darkened, her initial amusement giving way to anger.

"Aegon, Jace, Luke, that's enough!" Vaella's voice was sharp, cutting through the laughter. "How dare you humiliate Aemond like this?"

Aegon's laughter faltered as he met Vaella's furious gaze. "It was just a joke, Vaella. We didn't mean—"

"Do I deserve the same?" Vaella interrupted, her voice cold. "I don't have a dragon either. Is this how you plan to treat me too?"

Aegon stumbled over his words, his face turning pale. "No, Vaella, I didn't mean—"

But Vaella had already turned on her heel, her expression stormy as she walked away from the Dragonpit. Aegon rushed after her, desperation in his voice. "Vaella, wait! Please, don't be mad at me. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Vaella stopped and spun around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. "You always do this, Aegon. You act without thinking and hurt the people who care about you. Aemond looks up to you, and this is how you treat him?"

Aegon reached out, but Vaella stepped back, shaking her head. "I thought you were better than this."

"Vaella, I'm sorry," Aegon pleaded, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to hurt you or Aemond. Please, forgive me."

Vaella took a deep breath, her anger still simmering but her voice softening slightly. "Apologize to Aemond. Make it right with him. And think before you act next time."

Aegon nodded, his eyes filled with regret. "I will. I promise."

As Vaella turned and walked away, Aegon stood there, watching her go with a heavy heart. He knew he had to make amends, not just with Aemond but also with Vaella. The bonds of family were fragile, and he had to learn to cherish and protect them.

Inside the Dragonpit, Aemond stood alone, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Vaella approached him, her expression softening. "I'm sorry they treated you like that, Aemond. You deserve better."

Aemond looked up, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Vaella. You're the only one who seems to understand."

Vaella hugged her brother tightly. "We'll find our own dragons one day, Aemond. Until then, we have each other."

As they walked away together, the bond between them strengthened, a promise of loyalty and support in a world filled with uncertainty and strife.

…

That evening, Vaella sat in her chambers, the events of the day weighing heavily on her mind. The candles flickered softly, casting gentle shadows on the walls, as she tried to find some semblance of peace. Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.

“Vaella, it’s me,” Aegon’s voice came through the door, hesitant yet determined.

Vaella sighed, already knowing why he was here. “Come in, Aegon.”

Aegon entered, closing the door behind him. He looked uncertain, his usual bravado tempered by a mix of guilt and frustration. “I wanted to apologize again. The idea was Jace and Luke’s, not mine.”

Vaella made a grimace, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Then why does it reek of you, Aegon?”

Aegon’s irritation flared, and he stepped closer, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why do you care so much about annoying Aemond? He’s just—”

“He’s my brother too, Aegon,” Vaella interrupted sharply, her eyes blazing. “Just like you are.”

Aegon pressed on, his voice lower but intense. “But you love me more, don’t you?”

Vaella frowned, seeing the familiar possessiveness in Aegon’s eyes. It had not diminished with time, if anything, it had grown. “Aegon, I will always love you. But I also love Jace, Luke, Aemond, and even little Joffrey. We’re all family.”

Aegon stepped even closer, their faces now mere inches apart. “But you love me more, right?” he asked, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper.

Vaella’s heart pounded in her chest, her emotions a whirlwind of love, frustration, and understanding. She met his gaze steadily, her voice soft but firm. “Yes, Aegon. I love you more.”

Aegon’s tense expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead, a gesture that held both affection and possessiveness. He then began to shed his attire, his movements slow and deliberate. Vaella watched him, her own feelings a mix of resignation and affection.

“Aegon,” she warned gently, “if your mother finds out we’re sharing a bed again, she’ll yell at both of us.”

Aegon shrugged, climbing into her bed with a dismissive smile. “Let her yell. I don’t care. Come here.”

Vaella’s resolve wavered, and eventually, she couldn’t help but smile. She slipped into the bed beside him, the ritual familiar and comforting. They had been sharing a bed since they were babes, a habit that had persisted despite Alicent’s disapproval.

As they lay together, Aegon wrapped his arms around Vaella, holding her close. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his embrace was soothing, a reminder of their unbreakable bond despite the chaos around them.

They didn’t fall asleep right away. Instead, they lay in the quiet, drawing comfort from each other’s presence. Vaella felt Aegon’s breath against her hair, his hold on her gentle yet possessive. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax for the first time that day.

“Vaella,” Aegon murmured, his voice soft in the darkness. “I promise I’ll never let anyone come between us. Not Rhaenyra, not anyone.”

Vaella sighed, her heart aching with a mixture of love and sadness. “I know, Aegon. And I’ll always be here for you.”

They held onto each other, finding solace in their shared closeness. The world outside might be fraught with tension and uncertainty, but in this moment, they were simply a brother and sister, bound by love and loyalty.

…

Alicent Hightower strode through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, her frustration mounting with each step. She had been looking for her eldest son, Aegon, to confront him about the cruel prank he and Rhaenyra’s sons had played on Aemond. Finding his chambers empty had only intensified her annoyance, as she knew exactly where he would be—once again with his half-sister, Vaella.

Alicent had tried her best to separate the two as they grew older, understanding the potential complications their bond could bring. But no matter her efforts, Aegon always found his way back to Vaella, their connection unbroken. She couldn't help but recall Maester Mellos’ words about Vaella being strange since birth, and the implications of that observation gnawed at her.

Meanwhile, in Vaella's chambers, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to Alicent's rising tension. Vaella and Aegon lay in her bed, still entwined in their embrace. Aegon’s lips trailed down her cheek to her neck, eliciting a soft hitch in her breath. She clutched at him gently, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

“Aegon,” she whispered, her voice breathy with both pleasure and concern, “promise me again you won’t mock Aemond like that again.”

Aegon’s kisses paused for a moment as he sighed. “I promise,” he murmured before resuming his tender exploration. His hands roamed over her curves, their touch growing more familiar and intimate with time. His movements against her nightgown became more urgent, her quiet moans filling the room.

Just as Aegon’s urgency peaked and he found release, spilling his seed onto Vaella’s thigh, the door to her chambers swung open. Both Aegon and Vaella sat up abruptly, alarmed and disheveled.

Alicent’s worried frown deepened as she took in the sight before her. She quickly closed the door behind her, her gaze intense. “Did you do it?” she demanded, her voice strained with a mix of anger and fear.

Vaella blushed deeply, realizing the insinuation behind Alicent's question. “No, Mother. We didn’t… we never go that far,” she stammered, her words tumbling over each other.

Alicent sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly with relief, though her irritation remained. She turned her focus to Aegon. “And what about the pig, Aegon? The Pink Dread?”

Aegon deflected, his tone dismissive. “It was Jace and Luke’s idea.”

Alicent scolded him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie to me, Aegon. You were just as much a part of it.”

Aegon rolled his eyes and lay back on the bed, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered.

Vaella interjected, her voice calm but firm. “I made him promise not to mock Aemond again, Mother.”

Alicent’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at Vaella. Despite the tension, she recognized the sincerity in her stepdaughter’s words. “Good. That’s good,” she said quietly. Before leaving, she turned back to them, her expression resolute. “This is the last time you two will share a bed.”

Vaella nodded, understanding the gravity of Alicent’s words but knowing deep down it was a promise neither she nor Aegon intended to keep. “Yes, Mother,” she replied.

Alicent gave them one last look, a mixture of concern and resignation in her eyes, before she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

As the door clicked shut, Aegon sat up again, his demeanor shifting from defiance to a more contemplative mood. “She won’t keep us apart, you know,” he said softly, reaching out to take Vaella’s hand.

Vaella squeezed his hand gently, a small smile playing on her lips. “I know, Aegon. But we should be careful.”

He nodded, pulling her closer. “Always,” he promised.

They lay back down together, the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. In the stillness of the night, they found solace in each other's presence, knowing that no matter what, they would face the world together.

…

The meeting of the small council was underway in the grand chamber of the Red Keep. The air was thick with the scent of burning candles and the tension of unresolved conflicts. Rhaenyra, dressed in her regal black and red attire, sat at the head of the table, her face composed but her eyes betraying the urgency of her thoughts. King Viserys, though visibly weakened by his illness, was present, his presence lending an air of gravitas to the proceedings. Alicent Hightower, her face a mask of controlled composure, sat beside him, her eyes watchful and calculating.

As the discussions turned to matters of succession and alliances, Rhaenyra seized the moment to present her proposal. "To ease the tensions between our families," she began, her voice steady and clear, "I propose that my son, Jacaerys, be betrothed to Helaena. This union would strengthen our family bonds."

A murmur ran through the room, and all eyes turned to Alicent, who clenched her hands in her lap to keep her composure. "And to further show goodwill," Rhaenyra continued, "when Syrax lays her next clutch of eggs, Aemond may choose an egg for himself."

Alicent's face tightened, her distress at the idea of her daughter marrying a boy widely rumored to be a bastard threatening to show. She forced herself to remain calm, her voice measured as she replied. "While your proposal is... thoughtful, Princess, I counter with a suggestion of my own. Let Aegon and Vaella be engaged to each other instead."

Rhaenyra's eyes flashed with anger, but she controlled her temper. "That is out of the question," she said firmly. "Vaella deserves more than a life tied to Aegon."

Viserys, who had been silent, finally spoke up, his voice weak but resolute. "I agree with Rhaenyra. Aegon is my son, but he is not suitable for Vaella."

Alicent's composure slipped for a moment, her eyes blazing with frustration. "You did nothing to sever the link between them, Viserys. And now you dispute this match? How can Rhaenyra's son be good enough for Helaena, but our son is not good enough for Vaella?"

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aegon is impulsive and lacks the qualities necessary to care for someone as precious as Vaella. She deserves a kind and understanding partner."

Alicent stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "This is not about what Vaella deserves," she snapped, her voice shaking with barely controlled anger. "This is about your favoritism, your willingness to sacrifice my children’s future for the sake of Rhaenyra's."

Rhaenyra remained seated, her expression unyielding. "Alicent, this is not about favoritism. It's about what is best for Vaella and the realm. Jacaerys and Helaena's union would benefit everyone."

Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, her frustration and anger boiling over. "I will not allow my daughter to be used as a pawn in your game, Rhaenyra. This discussion is over."

With that, Alicent turned and stormed out of the chamber, her mind churning with resentment. How could Rhaenyra's bastard be deemed good enough for Helaena, yet Vaella be too good for her son? The injustice of it all gnawed at her, fueling her determination to find a way to secure her children's future.

Back in the council chamber, an uneasy silence settled over the room. Viserys looked tired, his earlier resolve waning. "Let us continue," he said quietly. "There are other matters to discuss."

Rhaenyra nodded, her mind already moving to the next topic, but the tension from the earlier confrontation lingered. She knew that Alicent's anger was far from quelled and that the coming days would bring new challenges. But for now, she focused on the task at hand, determined to protect her family and secure a future where they could all find peace.

…

Vaella Targaryen noticed the change in the atmosphere of the Red Keep after the birth of her sister Rhaenyra's third son, Joffrey. The castle felt like a simmering pot, ready to boil over. The departure of Harwin Strong and his father, Lyonel, back to Harrenhal only added to the tension. Whispers and sideways glances became more frequent, and the sense of unease permeated the halls.

One afternoon, as Vaella was wandering the corridors, she overheard some of the servants talking in hushed tones. "Did you hear? Princess Rhaenyra is taking her family to Dragonstone."

Vaella's heart skipped a beat. The idea of her sister leaving was unthinkable. She hurried through the winding passages, her mind racing with worry and confusion, until she found Rhaenyra in her chambers, packing her belongings.

"Rhaenyra!" Vaella cried, bursting into the room. "Is it true? Are you leaving for Dragonstone?"

Rhaenyra turned to her, her face calm but her eyes betraying the storm of emotions within. "Yes, Vaella. We are leaving."

Vaella felt a lump in her throat. "But why? Father will be devastated. And I can't bear the thought of losing you. Please, you can't leave me here."

Rhaenyra walked over to her sister and placed her hands on Vaella's shoulders. "You know why I must leave," she said gently. "The situation here is becoming untenable. For the safety of my children and myself, we need to be away from the court and its intrigues."

Vaella's eyes filled with tears. She knew the truth about the parentage of Rhaenyra's children, but it mattered little to her. They were her nephews, and she loved them dearly. "But people will talk no matter what you do," she said, her voice trembling. "Why can't I come with you?"

Rhaenyra sighed, her heart aching at the sight of her sister's distress. She pulled Vaella into a tight embrace. "You are so brave, Vaella," she whispered. "But I need you to stay here and look after our father. His health is failing, and he needs someone he can trust by his side."

Vaella clung to Rhaenyra, her tears soaking into her sister's dress. "I don't want to lose you," she said, her voice muffled.

Rhaenyra pulled back slightly, looking into Vaella's indigo eyes. "You won't lose me. We'll write to each other, and I'll visit whenever I can. But you must promise me that you'll be strong and take care of Father. He needs you more than ever now."

Vaella nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of the responsibility. "I promise," she whispered.

Rhaenyra kissed her sister's forehead, a bittersweet smile on her lips. "You are my heart, Vaella. And I know you will do great things. Stay strong, for both of us."

As Rhaenyra continued to pack, Vaella stood by, feeling a mix of sorrow and determination. The castle felt more oppressive than ever, but she knew that her sister was right. She had to be strong for their father, to be the anchor he needed in these troubled times.

The day Rhaenyra and her family left for Dragonstone, Vaella stood beside her father, watching the dragons take flight. The sky was filled with the beating of powerful wings, and Vaella felt a tear slip down her cheek. She glanced at Viserys, who looked frail and weary, a shadow of the king he once was. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

"Don't worry, Father," she said softly. "I'll be here for you. Always."

Viserys looked down at his youngest daughter, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness. "Thank you, Vaella," he whispered, his voice trembling. "You are my strength."

As the dragons disappeared into the horizon, Vaella felt a sense of resolve settle over her. She would honor her sister's trust and protect their father, no matter the cost.

#game of thrones #romance #dragons #house of the dragon #viserys targaryen #daemon targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jace velaryon #luke velaryon #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon x oc #helaena targaryen #fanfic

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witches-dream · 7 days

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Imagine you have a son, and he's growing very disciplined, which is good, but he's very introverted, not really in a shut-in kinda way, he just seems very unapproachable to people, and he is, because he's just so serious all the time. Like you look at him and, yeah, he's gonna be great warrior, but you also wish that he could. Socialize a little?

So your son grows up and leaves to fulfill some kinda grand goal and you're like "ok, son", still kinda worried about him, but he's not your baby anymore, he can do what he wants. So he leaves and after a few days you hear this earth-shattering lightning strike, no storm before or after or anything, everybody is wondering what happened and if you'll all die soon. Nothing happens past that, actually, it feels strangely peaceful. So after a few days your son comes back and he doesn't look any different, but he has definitely changed in like a week or two that he was gone. So he says "father, I have defeated the black and white dragons". You're kinda shocked, but that explains the lightning strike and how everything went quiet after it, and your son is not one to lie, so you you say "oh, for real? neat". "They are not going to bother anyone anymore." Your son says in a solemn tone. Later, everyone celebrates but he doesn't come. You knock into his room, and, even through a closed door, you can feel some sort of power, warmth radiating from it. He opens the door and his sword looks... Different. First of all, it's much bigger. It has a completely different shape. And there's this... Purple gem on its handle and it's glowing brightly. Nobody in this village could've forged such an otherworldly masterpiece. So you ask "got a new sword, son?" He says "Yeah. It's a Soul Jam, actually." "A Soul Jam? Never heard of it." "I will tell you later."

He reluctantly agrees to join the celebration, but after a few weeks he leaves the village. He starts building a citadel, and walling off the coast of the Licorice Sea. People are already calling him Your Majesty, though he's slow on accepting that title. Many decades pass and you're so old you can't get out of the house on your own anymore. Your son visits and he looks the exact same as when he left. He takes care of you, with the same cold face he's always had, though his hands are warm and him just being there warms your heart. You strain your old and tired vocal cords to utter "I'm proud of you, son." He's silent, but he nods, and his long hair obscures his face, but you can imagine he's happy to hear that.

It's after you die that he accepts the throne, and the title of King that was decided by the people whose respect for him towered the mountains. And, as it turns out, your son is immortal now. And, through the years, through the decades and centuries and even millennia, he takes the utmost care of all his subordinates, he remembers every face of his every warrior and he etches out their names and immortalizes them and prays to them each day.

Your son does many great things, many heroic deeds. He defends the kingdom he founded with a resolution of a true warrior. Your son made friends. There's only four of them, they are heroes of their own lands just like him, so they're busy most of the time, but they go on adventures and they have fun once a couple of centuries. Your son also makes many mistakes, says things he deeply regrets. He has a son, and, even being thousands of years old, he still thinks of you and wishes he could be even half as great a father as you were.

Maybe sometimes your son wishes you were around to lend a word of advice, or to say "I'm proud of you" one more time. Other times, he's ashamed of a thought that you might be out there somewhere, watching him from the heavens and shaking your head in disapproval. You have no way of telling him you love him either way, with all his virtues and all his vices alike. What matters is that, in the end, your son overcomes all adversities and becomes a better person. He was given a unique chance in life: to have infinite time to learn, and he uses all that time to become a better person.

You have no regrets. You can rest peacefully, knowing you have raised a hero.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark cacao cookie #my art #it started as a joke but then it became something somewhat serious so i hope you still enjoy lol

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holylulusworld · 11 months

Text

Dishonored

Title: Dishonored

Summary: You fell. For his lies. For him. From grace.

Pairing: Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader; Lord Barnes x Princess!Reader (no polyamory)

Warnings: heavy angst (I’m not joking), lies, manipulation, hurting people for revenge, implied loss of innocence, unwanted/unplanned pregnancy, Steve being the worst, sadness, hopelessness, desperation, suicidal tendency/suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, fluff, we stan Bucky in this story

Rating: Mature

Words: 2,7 k

Square filled for @anyfandomfluffbingo: Square 9: “I never loved you.”

Square filled for Lulu’s Winter Bingo 2022: Square 4: Winter

Square filled for @steverogersbingo: C3: Free space – Royal AU

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C2: Sharing body heat

Please heed the warnings for this story. It contains triggering content such as attempted suicide.

You fell. For his lies. For him. From grace.

How do you move on when your honor and grace get ripped away by the man who promised you love and devotion?

He lured you in – sweet-talked you into giving him the one thing you cherished the most. Your honor and innocence. Reserved for your future husband, and the man loving you unconditionally.

Lies. All lies.

It was a moment of weakness making you stumble and fall. Into his bed. Into his arms.

He took you apart, gentle, and slow. A miracle to you when you think about the aftermath.

A few months earlier, your father’s castle

“I can't believe Prince Steven came to woo me,” you mumbled to yourself. The prince arrived earlier this morning and you hoped your dreams would come true. You always felt a deep connection to the prince, and now, he’s here to talk to your father.

“Princess!” Your chambermaid scolded. “You shouldn’t be out here in the cold! Your father called for you. He wants you to meet Prince Steven. He will stay at the castle for a few weeks until he travels to his uncle’s castle.”

Your face fell. He came here to sit out the approaching snowstorm, nothing else.

How could you have been foolish enough to believe he came to ask for your hand?

“I’m…coming,” you tried to not cry. All your hopes and dreams ended up on the ground - shattered and torn. “We cannot let our guest wait.”

“Father,” you stepped confidently toward your father to peck his cheek. He was always soft on you, and let you break a few rules. Especially when it came to etiquette. You’re his little thunderstorm, a wild child with a bright mind and softness that’s hard to find among royals. “I heard we have a guest.”

“He’ll be here in a minute,” the king softly said. He ran his hand over your hair and patted your head. “I need you on your best behavior. I angered the prince, and we don’t want him to tell his father the king about it.”

You wrinkled your forehead. “What? I don’t understand,” you whispered so no one could hear. Your father is one of the kindest people you know. How could he possibly anger the prince?

“Your Highness,” Steven walked inside the throne room, accompanied by his best friend, and confident Lord Barnes. The brunette watched you with interest while the prince’s eyes drifted toward your brother and his fiancé, Lady Margaret Carter. “I see the princess will join us for supper.”

“Your Highness,” you turned your attention toward the prince. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again. It’s been too long.”

Steven eagerly took your offered hand to press a chaste kiss to the back of it. “The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for having me.”

“Lord Barnes,” you smiled at the brunette. Last time you saw him he was reading a book in the garden, chuckling at something he read. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. The library is always open for you.”

“Princess,” Lord Barnes smiled wildly. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Oh…my…you are too kind, Lord Barnes,” you replied gracefully and batted your eyelashes. “It’s always a pleasure having you around.”

Supper was more than pleasant. Lord Barnes kept the conversation flowing while the prince watched you the whole time. He complimented you and raised his glass on your beauty and grace.

You were surprised. His eyes seemed to be glued to your brother and his fiancé. Out of a sudden Prince Steven turned his attention toward you. He even stopped his friend from talking to you.

Your cheeks heated up, and you felt warm when he placed his hand next to yours, subtly brushing your pinkie with his finger.

It was the first time he was so close, and you allowed yourself to bask in his attention for as long as it lasted.

The next days felt like a dream come true. Steven asked you to spend time with him and go for a walk in the gardens. For propriety's sake, a chaperon accompanied you and Steven. But you didn’t care at all.

The moments spent with the prince were the best of your life. He made you smile, and laugh and your heart flutter.

All that mattered to you was his smile, his soft blue eyes, and the way he looked at you. It was the same way your father looked at your father and your brother at his chosen bride.

“I wish these days will never end,” you dared to hope Steven would say the same.

He took you by surprise when he replied. “Even if they end,” he looked you deep in the eyes, leaning a little closer to whisper, “I’ll always come back to you."

The prince was about to press a soft kiss on your forehead when your chaperone stepped in.

“Your Highness, please do not forget you are wooing for a princess, not a wench. Remember your manners,” she tutted. “We should head back inside. It’s getting colder, and I can smell the snow.”

Marjorie, your chaperone was right. Winter came faster than expected, accompanied by a snowstorm that wouldn’t let up.

The whole country was suffering from the cold weather and the snow masses.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The snowstorm and unforgiving winter kept Steven and Lord Barnes from leaving your castle.

You didn’t mind. Most of the time you spend with Steven, chatting about his kingdom, childhood, and love.

Yes. Love.

You held hands, and when your chaperone wasn’t looking, he even stole kisses. Steven promised you that love is the most precious thing to protect in this world.

He played you well, you give him that.

Your heart couldn’t take being apart from Steven for a single moment. So, you gave him everything you had to offer, and what he was craving.

On one of these cold winter nights, you let him sneak into your bedroom, and take you to bed. He kissed you, and when he settled between your thighs you believed he would make you his wife and love you forever.

When it was over, he smirked, and his eyes grew cold. Your heart dropped as he hastily redressed. “Steven, what are you doing?”

“My plan went well, didn’t it?” He looked at you, making you feel ashamed of yourself. You grabbed the blanket to cover your body. The one he ruined with his touch.

“I don’t understand, Steven. My love. What has gotten into you? You said you love me.” You cried as he looked at you, wrinkling his nose at your disheveled state.

“I never loved you,” he coldly replied. “Your father forced the woman I love to marry your brother,” he sneered and curled his lips. “I stole his beloved daughter’s innocence. What will he do if he finds out you are carrying my bastard under your heart?”

“Steven, I don’t…” Your voice trembled. “Why? I…”

“I came here to ask your father to stop this insanity and let me marry Margaret. I love her dearly. He refused and wanted to send me away.”

You remember now. Your father told you that he upset Steven.

“But…she came here, begging my father to help her. She wanted to marry my brother. Margaret wasn’t my father’s first choice. Some princesses and ladies were more beautiful and with a better reputation. He agreed because she was in love with my brother and threatened to kill herself if he didn’t allow her to marry my brother.”

“What?” He looked a little shell-shocked at your words but shook his head. “Lies!” Steven yelled, making you flinch. “Shut your mouth, wench. Never talk about Margaret like that again.”

He left without looking back and slammed the door shut. Leaving you devasted, heartbroken, and ruined.

After that night, he never looked at you. He declared that he was going to stay at the guest wing until it was time to leave.

One month later, …

Hopelessness is the only thing left in your life. You can feel a new life growing in your womb. Every passing day brings you closer to doomsday.

Soon you won’t be able to hide the secret. Soon everyone will know you got dishonored.

Foolish girl letting a man take what should have never been his.

You run your hand over your belly, choking out another sob. If you want to save what’s left of your honor, you must take matters into your own hands.

Shakily you glance at the balcony parapet again. If you do it now, you can save your honor, and your father’s.

Stepping toward the parapet you release a shuddery breath.

What if it’s not high enough? What if you survive? What if they ask questions?

“No,” you step away from the parapet. This is the wrong way to go. You must let it look like an accident. Or maybe, if you can find someone selling you a potion, you can end your life painlessly and fast.

The river looked inviting to you. You looked at the floating water, fascinated by its power and grace.

Once upon a time, you were gracefully too.

That was until your grace and innocence got ripped away from you like it meant nothing to him. “If I step into the river, it will be over soon. Maybe they will believe it was an accident. I slipped and fell into the river.”

Slowly, you stepped toward the water, closing your eyes for a moment. This was the only way to save your honor. The water would wash away the sin you committed and take your secret with it.

You took another step, and another until you felt the cold water kiss your feet. “Cold.” You whispered but walked farther into the water, feeling it tug at your gown. “It will be over soon, my little stardust.” You rubbed your belly. “I’m so sorry.”

The water surrounded you, almost reaching your waistline as you heard someone call for you. “Princess! NO!”

It was Lord Barnes. His heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw you in the river. He knew something was wrong with the way his friend acted out of a sudden.

“Nooo!” You heard the water splashing and then, two strong arms wrapped around you like anchors holding you in this world. “What are you doing, princess.”

“I cannot…he dishonored me,” you choked out a heartbreaking sob. “I cannot remain. No man will want me. Not after he took my innocence and…the baby…it will be a bastard.”

Lord Barnes stiffened when the words floated out of your mouth like the water in the river. He couldn’t believe his friend and confidant would do such a thing to you for revenge.

“My love. No,” he dragged you out of the water, and wrapped you in his arms, letting you cry in his chest until there were no tears left in you. Lord Barnes said. “Stay with me, my love. I’ll keep you warm. We need to keep each other warm.”

“But I—” You lifted your head to look at him with tear-clouded eyes. “You should’ve let me die. Father will…”

“He won’t know. Not about what happened with Steven, nor what you did today. What a coincidence I came by when you slipped and fell into the river,” he whispered and kissed your temple. “I came back to ask for your hand, and to wed you in spring.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his words. “I’m…ruined. You don’t want me, or my bastard child.”

“I will love it like my own, my love,” he kissed your cheek. “You are not ruined, princess. Only a little broken. But we can fix this. I got my heart broken once too. We will heal together.”

“My lord, the babe…it’s not yours…I can’t…you can’t.”

“It’s cold, let’s head back to the castle and get you warm. I’ll call for a healer…”

“Not a word about her condition except for the cold,” Lord Barnes warned the healer. “If you say a word about the other thing,” he patted his sword, “you won’t be able to spend all the gold you’ll get.”

“Not a word,” the healer nodded and walked back inside your room.

“Marry my daughter?” Your father eyed Lord Barnes warily. He came back a few days after Prince Steven and he left the castle. Alone, and with a grim expression. “But…what about the prince?”

“He’s a foolish man, my king,” Lord Barnes growled. “He lost his heart one too many times to a pretty face. I cherish your daughter, her grace, and her kindness. If you allow me to woo her, I’ll be forever grateful. I’m not a prince but love her dearly.”

“She admires you too,” the king replied. “She talked about you, and that you love to read as much as she does. If my daughter agrees, I’ll agree on your bond.”

Lord Barnes didn’t wait until spring to wed you. He insisted on marrying you within another month.

You watched him with sad eyes as he desperately tried to fix his friend’s mistake.

“Lord Barnes, you can still find a better bride,” you took his hand to press a soft kiss on his knuckles. “I’m thankful that you tried to save my honor, but I cannot make you miserable for the rest of your life.”

“My love,” he whispered. “I fell for you the first time we met. If only I knew about Steven’s plans, I wouldn’t have stepped back and let him woo for you.”

“It’s not your fault, only mine,” you sniffled, and wiped your eyes. “I wasn’t raised to become a wench. I decided to let him do this to me…”

“Y/N, you’re not a w-.” He shook his head. “Never use that word again,” he angrily said. “He was the one stealing the light from you. You’re still an innocent angel.”

“I know that I’m not,” you hid your face in his shoulder, allowing yourself to let the mask you wear so well slip. “You’ll get damaged goods, my Lord.”

“Call me James, or Bucky, my love,” he gently rubbed your back. “I promise, you are far from damaged goods for me. You are going to be my wife and I’ll love you. And the babe will get all my love too. They are going to mine.”

“What a beautiful pair, don’t you think?” Your mother asked. “She looks happy, my love.”

Your father smiled wildly as he watched you and your groom share the first dance. You smiled and laughed as Bucky twirled you around.

“I was worried about our daughter for a while. Prince Steven’s departure left her heartbroken,” the king held out his hand for his wife. “Let us join them and celebrate their union.”

The queen smiled and took your father’s offered hand. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

A mother always knows when her child is in need.

She will never break her promise to herself and tell her husband that she saw you at the river when Lord Barnes saved you, or that she heard what you confessed.

“He is a good man, my love,” the queen whispered. “Our beloved daughter couldn't find a better man.”

While everyone celebrated your wedding and danced, Steven stood in a corner, watching you and his best friend happy together.

He squared his jaw and balled his hands into fists. His heart dropped watching Margaret and your brother join you on the dance floor.

Everything he did was in vain…

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers angst #bucky barnes #buckybarnesbingo2023 #steverogersbingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #prince!steve rogers #royal!bucky barnes #royal au #angst #tw: attempted suicide

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

Would yandere emperor feel threatened if the beast reader took care of has a bigger pecs than he has?

0121.

A common rule - by law of the arena and its imperial tyrant fighters were stripped of their name and sense of identity as soon as they became a pawn in his game. The only hopes of regaining even a fraction of their self was to fight and earn a new title to wear by the insatiable crowd and its wicked master. The beast in question had done its all to claim new face, and its place as an opponent retained for champions in the ring. A noble warrior predating its imprisonment in the emperor's roster with the strength and might to prove its worth, and claim what it had lost.

Thought the beast had been given another name - in this time the emperor saw only one title fit as he enters its cage-

Trash.

"Stop it!- Please!"

Hysterical in your hopeless cries, you squirm against the beast's chest as its weighted tongue draws heavy over your cheek. It licks at the drying blood caked into your skin, trying to restore the washed shine it held when you enter to no avail. You wince from the coarse, sandpaper like texture of the invasion muscles, but are unable to swallow the laughter that ruptures from your throat as nuzzle it nuzzles your face with its nose - fur tickling your sensitive flesh.

What lingers of the emperor's decrepit heart falls deeper into despair as your hands sink into the squishy muscle of the beast's pectorals in your attempts to flee. Your face remains pinned to its chest as it holds you down with one arm, cooing - as if hushing a fussy child. In scale to its massive size you did appear as little more than a doll in its large arms. How you ever managed to care for a creature of its mass was beyond you, but its willingness to accept your presence and aid was beneficial.... Most of the time.

"I already told you I have to take another bath after this whether you clean me or not. You're still bleeding, let me bandage the wounds first."

The beast huffs, licking at its minor injures as it shoves your head back down on its chest - nearly suffocating you before you're able to turn to a better agile. If you knew any better it would be the emperor's breasts causing your loss of breath, but for some bizarre reason you refused your place in his bed. Many have tried to kill, and even succeeded to do so in prayer for even a second of his time. You had it readily available at any point, yet you outright rejected his more than generous offers. You belittle him.

The emperor clears his throat, tapping his foot against the stained floor as your eyes fall in his direction. The beast reluctantly releases you as you silently beg for freedom, growling lowly at the authoritive - making a barrel between you with its tailp. Good. You had enough sense to know that when your king is presence such nonsense and attempts to make him jealous would not be tolerated.

"Your highness...."

The emperor clicks his tongues. "Ten minutes. I want you out of here by then or the next time I return it will be with a firing squad."

The emperor turns on his heads and storms away with his head held high, clinging onto the shreds of his dignity till he crumbles at the end of his bed as it shatters in the privacy of his bedroom. He cups his exposed pecs peaking through the silky fabric of his robes and seethes spite through his teeth as he curses your reluctant nature.

"My image is that of a god's! How dare you make me question my worth in this way. I'll have that dredge you favor skinned and turned into my new coat for making me feel this way you awful, cruel human."

Heavy bangs fall on his door as guards crowd around.

"Your highness, is everything alright?!"

The emperor screams through hot, angry tears. "0121... I want 0121's head on a fucking platter and at my door by nightfall!"

"Your highness.... You have made it law that we are to refuse your order if your voice goes over a certain decibel as you are too emotional to think rationally."

"I am your king! Do what I say or I will have you all hanged!"

Soft whispering becomes muffled by the door. The emperor can recognize one of the voices better than the rest.

"The caretaker has agreed to use your chest as a pillow if you spare the beast's head."

The emperor dries his face and pulls his robes to his shoulders as he stands. He races to the door where you stand with your arms folded - dragging you inside his room without warning.

"Order revoked."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere emperor #yandere drabble

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dhoranbolt · 8 months

Text

Reincarnated Love

a/n: Sukuna with a reincarnated love still got me in a chokehold, back at it again with the crappy titles pretend it sounds good, not related to the first one I just got too many ideas for this lol

bestie beta reader: @yukios-medic ily ma'am 🥹💙

pairing: Yuji x fem!reader, Sukuna x fem!reader

Yuji held her close, eyes staring up at the ceiling. He was losing her. To the curse who was inhibiting his body, no less.

She would pull away too soon. He could feel the love for him leaving her body more and more, every time they kissed.

Sukuna told him exactly what would happen if he chose to pursue her. Told Yuji that no matter how much he could come to love her, Sukuna had loved her first, and he would be the last to do it in this lifetime, too.

Told Yuji that maybe she wouldn’t get all of her memories from before back, if at all, but it wouldn’t matter. Because over time, being close to Sukuna, even through his vessel, would be enough for her soul to feel the call of him.

She would come home to him, and when Sukuna was strong enough to take over as he pleased, he would make Yuji watch while she fell in love with him, all over again in this century.

So, when Yuji felt the unease begin to settle between them, his heart hurt, stomach lurching.

And the worst part? Sukuna could see it all. Yuji would not have a single moment of this heartbreaking realization to himself.

It was a waiting game, now. Yuji was waiting for her to drop the other shoe. Tell him that she just couldn’t do it anymore. Would she admit what he already knew? That when she looked at him, all she could see were red irises and black markings? That she saw the king of curses, and not her sweet, caring, loving boyfriend Yuji anymore?

Would she leave? Avoid him? Or would she stick around and suffer in silence, in the hopes that she might glimpse her long lost lover through his eyes when he wasn’t looking.

“Mmm…” She hummed quietly in her sleep, nestling closer to his chest as she did. His heart squeezed, and his lips pulled into a small smile. For now, though, he had–

“Sukuna…” She breathed.

His heart shattered.

‘I told you this would happen, brat. Don’t try to take things that don’t belong to you.’

Tag list: @saiki-enthusiast

#jjk #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #yuji x you #yuji x reader #yuji angst #yuji being collateral damage as usual 💀#jjk x you #jjk x reader

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semisolidmind · 11 months

Note

Ok I have a question and if I asked this before sorry my memory sometimes bad.

So you said peach's died on the journey with her husband's. How did she die? And did they get revenge for her. Also at this point you would think peach's is there soulmate but peach's not liking it.

And dose she have a Mark of how she died as a brith Mark?

And what was Macaqa and sun frist meating with peach's like?

I really love your work

(tw, slight mention of blood and gore)

went on a bit of a tangent :)

reader was killed during a demon ambush. everybody was busy fighting the demons, and while reader was hiding, one of the demons escaped the warlords' notice. she didn't even have time to scream. it killed her, and then took and ate her body.

macaque was the first to realize her absence, of course. reader wasn't able to make much noise as she died, so he just thought she was scared, but... imagine his horror when he can't hear her heartbeat. he quickly dissapears into a shadow, leaving the fight behind. he checks where reader was hidden, and finds only a small puddle of blood. his breathing quickens as he follows the blood a ways further into the woods. he can feel his rage and anguish growing.

there, in a clearing, a rogue wolf demon seems to have just finished its meal, it's tongue licking the excess gore from its teeth. shreds of reader's clothing lay scattered at its feet, along with her satchel and book.

macaque bears his teeth in an enraged snarl and roars at the stupid beast. struck by grief, he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to his face as tears gather in his eyes.

the sound of his anguish echoing against the trees was enough to summon his brother; wukong, covered in the gore of his slain enemies, appears at his side. the king takes quick stock of the situation, and comes to the same heart-shattering conclusion as macaque.

she's gone. she's gone and this wretched creature destroyed her.

reader is dead.

the rage he feels rivals the burning of the stars.

the two bring down the full fury of their combined might upon the wolf demon. the warlords drag out their dismantlement, tearing the stupid creature apart peice by peice. once the offending beast is little more than a visceral stain on the ground..

...the brothers hold one another, attempting to ground each other through the torrent of their pain. they've lost their one, their only.

their dear reader, their beloved peach....she's dead. all because they took their eyes off her for a second, all because they were made to come on this cursed journey. were they not charged with protecting that blasted monk, they could have prevented this. wukong and macaque come to the same conclusion; they will not soon forgive the ones who brought them here.

the monkey demons gather reader's things, holding them as gently as glass...it's all they have left of her. not even a body to bury back home on their mountain.

the other pilgrims need only see these items and the baleful, enraged, tear-stricken looks on their companions' faces to know what must have happened. wukong and macaque say nothing as the monk says a prayer for her.

the two leave for a while.

they don't come back for three months.

when they do return to the journey at the behest of the heavens, they are reserved. withdrawn. they keep to themselves, only intervening when the pilgrims are in danger they can't solve themselves.

———

the monkey king and the six-eared macaque complete the journey. they refuse their new titles; the rage that simmers in them is far too great for the roles they've earned.

the monkey warlords go home. they grieve, properly this time, alongside their subjects.

the next few hundred years are especially brutal for any enemies of flower fruit mountain and it's king. without his queen, he forgets what it means to be merciful.

———

many centuries later, wukong finds a little monkey demon boy, seemingly sprung from the same stone he did. wukong adopts him, names him xiaotian, and teaches him to become a ruthlessly efficient warrior.

the child grows up hearing the occasional story about the mountains' queen, a once-mortal woman who held his father's (and uncle's) heart in her hands. his caretakers can't bring themselves to speak about her often, but they speak softly and fondly when they do. he hears stories of her adventures on the mountain; how she made friends with her subjects, worked in the kitchens and orchards, and cared for the mountain's children.

both wukong and macaque tell xiaotian that reader would have loved him dearly.

the small shrine in the palace temple (a satchel, a heavy book with nothing written in it, a few scraps of bloodied cloth displayed next to daily offerings of peaches) and furniture in his father's room (the combs, hairpins, and perfume bottles untouched but lovingly dusted) don't tell him much about who "reader" was—but the stories from the people who knew her do.

he wishes he could've met her.

———

when the boy reaches a certain age, he asks to go stay in the mortal world. his father reluctantly agrees.

xiaotian goes to the city, battles the dragon girl mei, befriends her, and allows her to teach him how the city works. she takes him to a noodle shop belonging to one of her friends, a gruff but earnest pig demon named pigsy. there, he meets mei's other friends; a gentle blue giant named sandy (and his cat, mo), a studious yet freeloading human named tang—and a friendly human woman who works at the shop...

...who happens to be nicknamed reader.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au #sorry i kinda only answered one of your questions

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flowering-thought · 1 year

Text

Ganon brainrot won in my heart so here we are-

Please know that this version of Ganaon is influenced by BOTW and TOTK as I never got the chance to play the older games and I'm hopefully going to purchase TOTK soon (I'm a broke bitch so I look at spoilers in envy and awe). Also note that due to the complicated timeline of the games I'm going to say that Zelda has traveled back maybe 10,000 years because as of right now there's no telling how to fit it into the timeline for sure-

Not gonna lie I wanna do more of this, maybe a part two?? Should I do a part two?? I want to do more but I didn't want to make it too long-

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, hints at stalking

Yandere Ganondorf x Archeologist Reader

Zelda and Link. Two people you had come to know well as you had helped Link grow used to life in Hyrule after waking from his 100 year nap.

You were an assistant who occasionally helped Purah but also looked for things to research on your own when you could.

And when Link had saved the kingdom from Calamity Ganons grasp? You had grown close to Princess Zelda, who shared many interests with you. You two got along quite well, having fun and sharing research with each other and having long conversations about the past and the link between technological advancements and a declining birthrate.

And with Link? You appreciated the times when you could just relax. You would both sit by the fire and relax or you would tell him stories to pass the time.

Before Link had managed to defeat Calamity Ganon you would empathize with the struggle of not remembering his past, of the emotions that came with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And you would help him find ways to find happiness in the small things, even talking with him and having conversations to make things seem less stressful than they were.

So with Link and Zelda by your side with ruins of the ancient past? What would you have to worry about? Zelda is knowledgeable about ruins and Link is strong enough to help either of you if something were to happen.

But things don't always turn out how you want them to be huh?

Walking up to what looked to be a corpse deprived of light and dehydrated to the point it was practically a standing mummy, a hand attached to its chest and a spiral of light emitting from the contact.

And as though it were fate, that hand detached, a stone falling with it. A part of you felt as though you weren't supposed to be here, you took a step back, behind Zelda and Link, your eyes fixated on the mummified corpse.

As if you had walked into some tale of horror, the cracks of bones could be heard from the body, it slowly moving in what could only be described as terrifying.

Just as it opened its eyes Link blocked the first attack, and you grabbed Zelda's wrist, ready to run with her if need be. And the shattering of the master sword echoed through the chamber.

"The sword that seals the darkness? Such a fragile sword cannot defend you from me." He stated, a raspy voice speaking out.

"Zelda.. And you who carries that sword are Link." He continued.

The conversation did not last, another attack carried and both you and Zelda are knocked into the abyss. And even if it would be your death, you did not let go of Zelda, knowing that you'd rather be together in death should you die from that fall.

But all you saw was a burst of light before you inevitably passed out, your consciousness fully collapsing as the world around you changed.

And then there you were, in a field in Hyrule, both you and Zelda lain among the grass for a certain King and Queen to find you.

Zelda was the first to awaken to their voices, explaining who she was to them before they explained their own title.

And just before Zelda could gasp, you awoke. You held yourself as you woke up before fully awakening and looking around frantically for Zelda.

You didn't mind the strangers as you crawled over quickly to check for wounds, "Are you okay? You didn't get hurt?" You asked.

And upon realizing where you were, and looked upon by strangers, both you and Zelda explained what had happened to the young King and Queen as they brought you to the peak

Of course what followed was being brought to the founding kingdom of Hyrule, Rauru and Sonia treated Zelda like their daughter, smiling and making sure she was well fed.

They had claimed that both you and Zelda were distant relatives despite you saying you were not a part of the Hylian royal family. But they stated it would be better to claim that for now.

And while they treated Zelda like their child, when it came to you they were gentle as though you were someone they loved. You did not have powers like them and so they made sure you had a guard with you at all times.

Often times you would be found by the pair with Mineru, both of you enjoying different topics and you found immense enjoyment from learning everything that the Zonai technology could offer.

Sometimes you would actually fall asleep in Minerus office, and you could have sworn one time to hear Sonia and Rauru conversing as your head was supported by a lap and your hair pet gently. It was such a warm and gentle feeling so you eventually drifted back to sleep only to wake up in your chambers the next day.

And then, the one and only Gerudo King known as Ganondorf made his appearance.

Far too many times had you seen the depictions of a monstrous beast called Ganon, and upon hearing the name in another form you could feel shivers roll down your spine.

You stood next to Zelda, deciding to take your mind off of the King and look to his group, finding the differences in the attire of the past and future was fun to you rather than thinking about the anxiety that came with meeting Ganondorf.

And while you gazed at his group, Ganondorf had been staring at the stones for a time, noticing Zelda had one so he assumed that you would as well. And as soon as he noticed you did not have one he should have brought his gaze back to Rauru but he couldn't.

The way those robes fit on your figure, your soft looking features and that gaze of intelligence and warmth in your eyes had him nearly move his head to look right at you. But of course he knew better than to make his interest clear right in the throne room.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, even when he and his group of warriors were escorted to different chambers to rest he had your face in mind. And before he was escorted to the separate nicer chamber he would stay in for his standing in the Gerudo tribe was the highest, he pulled two warriors aside and told them to keep an eye on you in secret, to learn more about you.

"And what kind of information on her would you like us to gather?" One asked, prepared for whatever her king would ask of them.

"Everything." He stated, turning to follow the Hylian maid who stood quite a bit away.

And so for an entire week, while observing many schedules of those who had the secret stone, he would try to find the places you tended to wander in.

He learned of the foods you prefered, how you spent a lot of your time either in the garden or the library, snacks such as fruit you often snacked on. He also found out the size of the robes you wore, getting a messenger to send that information back to the tribe to prepare you clothing. And he also tried his best to search into your orgins, but even most servants of the palace did not know where you came from.

It was frustrating that oftentimes you were with a member of the royal family or in places he couldn't get to without arising suspicion when it came to trying to get close to you.

Until finally, you were in the garden, only a single guard standing a couple of feet away as you sat in the grass and with a sketchbook open drew the different kinds of plants in front of you.

He found it beautiful. How your fresh flowed around you in the grass and your hunched form taking in the details of nature.

A part of him thought it suited you. But another thought how much better you would look smiling at him and waving him over.

But alas he had to make the first move.

So that's what he did, he stepped into the garden and made a light cough, the guard startling and immediately formed a stance while you turned to face what was only a pair of legs till you craned your head up to look at him.

You stayed completely still out of shock, till Ganondorf tilted his head a bit, wondering why you merely stared.

"Am I truly that shocking to see my lady?" He asked, a small smirk adorning his face. You nearly wanted to run but at the same time a part of you didn't want to create problems for Rauru or Sonia or even possibly Zelda so you decided to be neutral and scoot over a bit.

"Not as shocked as you would think, sit down and maybe I could see your face without needing to break my neck." You said, hoping that maybe he wouldn't be too interested so you wouldn't have to be too on edge.

But much to your surprise you heard a loud chuckle and next thing you knew had the King of the Gerudo sitting next to you in a garden of flowers.

You couldn't stand the awkward silence so you decided to form a conversation with him instead. "So how is your stay? I hope you're finding things enjoyable?" You ask, fumbling with the pages of your sketchbook, the notes written between the pages among illustrations and dried flowers and plants.

Ganondorf took in everything. How lovely your face looked up close, how tiny your hands were as you held that book in hand, and how your fingernails would get under a page to flip to another as you tried to make conversation.

He wanted you. He knew for certain then and there that he wanted you. It was love at first sight yes. But it wasn't the kind that he would throw away everything for until this point.

Now he understood the tales of foolish people throwing things they had worked hard for away for love. But it's a good thing Ganondorf is a greedy man. He'll have you first even if it means abandoning his first plan. He can always create another.

So as his mind processed these thoughts he gave a hum of confirmation before gazing down at you, "Do you know anything about the desert?" He asked. You would never know this was a conversation to prepare you for the harshness of the desert when he would eventually find a way to sweet talk his way into taking you there.

But unexpectedly you nodded and smiled, "Yes! While during the day it reaches its hottest point at noon, and its coolest point at midnight. But the sunsets and sunrises in the desert are breathtaking!" You started, smiling as you opened another page to some of the flora and fauna you've observed in the future.

"See I love how things can still manage to survive, it's so interesting how they form their own ways of survival and manage to thrive. Just like people do!" You stated.

"And how clear the sky looks at night when you're in the desert, it almost looks like an endless sea of stars. It does get cold at night but I've never been one to grow cold easily." You add, a bright smile on your face only keeping the man stunned in place.

How positive you were when he had only seen the negatives of his homeland. The vast desert is dry and harsh. He hated the Hylians who had taken for granted their habitable home and yet here he was, in love with a Hylian even before you would confess of your love for the desert.

You went on about how to build the most efficient homes, how staying near an oasis is the best move, and how white paint or tiles would help reflect the sun off the roofs. How different muds and rocks and soil can affect how to build a home there. And how you enjoyed the feeling of warm sand on your feet.

It took you at least an hour of talking to realize he had listened intently for a whole hour.

It left your face feeling hot and putting your book to cover your mouth and nose, hoping to cover up whatever blush had formed on your cheeks. "Sorry, here I am drawling on and talking your ear off." You muttered, avoiding eye contact but also realizing that looking at his well-toned body was a bigger mistake as you felt your heartbeat rise and then looked to the scenery to try and calm yourself down.

Ganondorf only chuckled, smiling as he set a hand on your head and gave your hair a little ruffle. "It's okay little Vai, I quite enjoy listening to you talk." He claims, getting up before looking down once more, "We should talk again." He adds.

And with that he walked off, leaving you slightly bewildered.

Unknown to you, that guard had reported back to Rauru and Sonia at the end of the day after making sure you were safe in your chambers.

The next day Rauru and Sonia would pull aside Zelda and Mineru while you were in one of the libraries researching.

"What do we do? Why on earth would he take an interest in Y/n?" Zelda asked, her hands held together in anxiety.

"He should have been targeting one of us. Someone who holds a secret stone. Y/n doesn't even have a stone!" She adds.

Mineru and Rauru sat silently in thought while Sonia put her hand over Zeldas, "Do not worry. I don't think he has the intention to hurt her." She claims, her calm voice carrying Zelda out of all the thoughts of you becoming hurt.

"But that doesn't mean he doesn't hold other intentions with her." Rauru says, looking slightly agitated as his gaze stays focused on the table.

"She wouldn't betray us. That much is certain. So if he doesn't seek to harm her or get information out of her, what could it be?" Mineru asks out loud, her question plaguing the thoughts of all four of them.

And they all knew only time could tell.

And unfortunately for them, Ganondorf would come to find you often, growing closer to you and making you feel comfortable around him. And due to that, coming up with a new plan to propose to his tribe and the warriors who followed him was easy.

He would take you as his wife. A surefire way to ensure a "peace treaty" between the Gerudo and Hylians. And your knowledge of the landscape and ways to improve their housing would prove useful for keeping his people safe, many warriors agreed with this plan as the longevity of their tribe mattered to them more than stealing a stone.

If they managed to strengthen their tribe with knowledge you could lend then they could form a better plan to take over Hyrule.

So with the support of his warriors, he asked to meet with the Hylian court, including you.

And it was tense. When you stepped into the hall, you could have sworn Sonia was on the edge of yelling and Rauru was bewildered. Zelda took notice of you and immediately brought you close to her and went closest to the thrones to keep you within reach.

You had made it late so you didn't know that Ganondorf had just announced his wish to marry you.

"Are you insane? You propose such a thing to keep the peace between our people?" Rauru asked, his voice commanding an answer from the brazen Gerudo King.

"But it is not unreasonable. I understand that Y/n is a distant relative yes? Not only is she of noble lineage she is also intelligent and capable of helping my tribe prosper. Would it not benefit both you and me? You would have my word of peace and know that your relative would be in capable hands and protected by my people as she would become one of us by wedding me, trying our people together." He concluded, looking straight at Rauru.

You were shocked at the information, never expecting to be proposed to by such a man. Yes, he seemed to be kind to you but how would you know he would keep his promise of peace? The history you read was different from this!

You felt overwhelmed as Rauru and Sonia went on about rejecting and Ganondorf would try to talk about the benefits. It took you a minute to collect yourself so you could speak.

"That's enough!" You yelled. You hated all the attention turning to you but this was your life. You were not going to allow anyone else to choose anything for you.

"Give me a couple of days. And I will reply to your proposal Ganondorf. Please allow me that." You stated. Rauru and Sonia wanted to object, and Zelda held onto your hand desperately.

Ganondorf smiled, giving a nod before speaking, "I hope you will give me good news soon my lady.".

After the meeting Rauru, Sonia, Zelda and Mineru profusely asked you to reconsider saying anything but no. That this was insane and that you don't know any of his intentions. It took at least an hour of their constant pestering for you to hole up in a library with snacks and comfort items.

You quite literally locked them out and spent your time reading to try and find any wisdom to help you.

Eventually you came across an old scroll, your body wrapped in a blanket and a few grapes in a bowl nearby while you read what this scroll had to say.

"Time is a complex device. One that has too many layers to have one conclusion. Some say time is final, that the past cannot be changed, and nor can the future. But some say that one single element can change that. The outcome is split into multiples and time divided. Should you find yourself at a crossroads and the future you envision challenged, take the chance for there is no telling if the future is sure. And if changed with a sure future, know that while things around you may change, you will not."

And with that you had decided.

You had bathed and gotten dressed and called a meeting to answer Ganondorfs request. And Rauru, Sonia, Zelda, and Mineru looked as anxious as can be.

And with a couple of words, fate was changed.

"I accept your proposal."

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #soft yandere #totk x reader #yandere totk #yandere tears of the kingdom #ganondorf x reader #yandere ganondorf #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader

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silkscream · 9 months

Text

CHAPTER 2: HEAVEN CANNOT WAIT FOREVER

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He feels you shake. Earth-shattering, the feeling of you. Like you’re breaking the sky for him. It roots something deep inside him that wasn’t there before. Something blooming between violence and gauzy ecstasy. It knots his stomach until he breaks, too.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: smut (18+ mdni), virginity loss, protected sex (yay!!), fingering, satoru is annoying

ੈ✩ wc: 4.4k

ੈ✩ a/n: SMUT TIMEEEEE! one of my fav chapters just because it's so sweet. title is from the first taste by fiona apple. i'd love feedback <3 if you just comment about updates i will summon mahoraga on you.

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

July, 2008

In front of you, the Gojo estate sprawls out. It's oversized and sukiya-style, adorned with gardens full of hanashobu. When you were younger and more naive, you daydreamed that your wedding ceremony would happen in such a place. The idea makes you feel silly now.

You now find the gargantuan display of wealth a bit repulsive, despite growing up here.

The emerging summer heat makes the back of your knees feel sticky already. You had opted for a simple shirt dress, light and linen, and robin’s egg blue, thinking Satoru would like the color.

God, this was stupid. He wouldn’t be paying attention to the color of your dress — he’d be much more concerned with what’s underneath. The thought makes your stomach flip, birds and wasps flurrying in your diaphragm. The kiss you’d shared hadn’t left your mind for days. You wonder if it was the same for him.

You're surprised that he's there to greet you himself. Otherwise, you would've let yourself in. He smiles at you, looking unfairly handsome in a black t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s not wearing his sunglasses.

“Look who decided to show up.”

You hum in greeting, brushing past him to move toward the stairs.

“Eager, are we?” he teases. “You didn’t even get me flowers.”

“You have a whole garden of them outside.”

“They’re much prettier when you arrange them, Twigs.”

He cocks his head to the side, eyes lingering on an ikebana sitting on the foyer table. You had arranged it last week. You sigh, immediately regretting your decision until he pushes you lightly on the small of your back. His cologne is sharp under your nose. Has he always smelled this good?

It didn’t occur to you that Satoru would ever wear cologne. He’d always smelled like plain soap, white musk. Boyish sweat after he’d play in the courtyard with you.

You follow him up the long staircase and into his bedroom. It’s plain as it always was — neutral colors and traditional paintings on the walls, courtesy of his mother. The only difference is that a king-sized bed replaces the tatami mat he’d preferred as a child.

You try not to look at him, instead, inspecting the bookshelves. You'd read half of his stack by the time you were twelve. Since then, it seemed that Satoru didn't continue an interest in reading the same way you had.

There’s a small photo peeking out of a book — you recognize the top of your head. As you pull it out, you see the two of you grinning in front of a lake. You are eight years old, freshly toothless, and your pigtails are unruly.

“I miss your braids, you know,” Satoru murmurs. He laughs when you jump a bit at the realization of his presence. The coolness of his palm settles on the nape of your neck. You used to tease him about that — how he’d stalk the hallways like a cat and catch you off guard. You thought he’d ought to wear a bell.

“You just liked tugging on them to piss me off.”

“You’re cute when you’re pissed off,” he shrugs.

You wonder if he can hear the echoing brag of your heart. You can’t blame the heat for how you feel, with his house being the perfect temperature of all times. He’s so casual in his T-shirt compared to you. You’re briefly self-conscious about whether your dress is tacky or garish. Too feminine with its floral pattern. You hadn’t worn the thing in years.

As if he’s read your mind, he calls your name and tells you that he thinks you look pretty today. He beckons you into his lap again.

This time, you sit next to him, too anxious to touch yet. He smiles at you again, cat-like, but sweet. Not teasing in his usual manner.

“You can kiss me, you know.”

“I— I know,” you frown. “I don’t need your permission.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Twigs?”

You close your eyes, pausing in front of his face as you notice his breathing get uneven. A subtle push forward makes you stop against a wall.

“You did not just use your Infinity—”

“Sorry,” Satoru laughs. “Still a little mad that you lied about your technique to me.”

You look at him with wide eyes, bottom lip trembling. Something between shame and self-effacement.

“I’m messing with you. Promise. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Despite that, there was never really any hiding from him. Even though you aren’t as close as you used to be, Satoru is somehow still intuitive to how you feel. It’s why he touches your jaw and curls a lock of your hair in between his fingers. He knows his gentle touch would make a shiver run down your spine.

He kisses you, finally. The way your mouth immediately parts to welcome him makes his stomach stir, a spark to ignite a fire. It’s curious and soft, and when he hears you mumble please when he pulls away, he succumbs completely.

His hand settles on your waist, then your thigh. The crux behind your knee. He doesn’t want to move too quickly despite his desperate desire. Your sweet sounds are making him boil over. It’s all so delicate, hanging on by the thinnest thread, and he doesn’t want to scare you away like a timid animal.

You melt into him, grasping the front of his t-shirt with enough eagerness to surprise him. It occurred to you that you liked surprising him this way. You enjoyed getting him flustered. As you feel his warm palms smoothing the flesh of your thighs, the skirt of your dress is already bunched up.

The sound of him groaning in your mouth is addictive. Even more so when it’s your name between his lips.

“Satoru,” you whisper.

“Yes?”

“I–I want–”

Want you to eat me. Want to stay in your lap.

“Gone speechless already?” he teases, brushing your nose with his despite your glare. “You don’t have to be all shy with me.”

You’d imagined being in his lap like this before, warm and fervid. Dream-like. But it’s more real than anything else, especially when you can feel his hardness underneath you.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Satoru’s voice is strained, raspy. There’s an unsung hymn inside of you somewhere, some cruel and divine power deep within that wants to tear him apart. Hearing him like this makes your pulse quicken.

“I want to,” you whisper. His eyes widen, snowy lashes flickering in surprise as if he wasn’t the one to invite you over. As if he wasn’t the one who had beckoned you into his lap and kissed you first. He’d argue that you’d tempted him if he had the strength to tease you again.

You have the urge to hide inside of him, consume him. There’s a question in the flicker of your eyes when you touch his inner thigh. Your eyes are wide.

Satoru makes a sharp inhale. He’s nervous – more nervous than he’s ever been in this kind of situation. It isn’t like he does this often despite his reputation. With you, it’s something entirely unprecedented.

“Kiss me again,” he says. You do. For a bit, you let the feeling of him wash over you, and then you try something new. Your teeth are at his neck. The nip of your incisors against his throat makes him groan, the sound inciting something wild in you.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

You nod.

He doesn’t undress you, not yet. He merely snakes an arm in between your thighs, gasping at the wetness that’s gathered at your core. Fuck.

“You can lean into me,” he rasps into your hair. “Make yourself feel good.”

You mewl – a helpless sound. A small rock of your hips grants you friction against his hand, but it’s not enough.

“You’re teasing me,” you whine.

“But you like it, don’t you?”

He smiles. Devilish again, like his usual self. He knows you’re a bit repressed, like him, but in a way that’s reserved. He wants to see you come undone, enjoys the begging tone of your moans too much.

Satoru skims his fingers along your thigh, wetting the skin with your slick. He pulls your underwear to the side to find your clit. The pressure of his fingers against it makes you shiver.

Your eyes close as you sigh. You can’t look at him – can’t remind yourself that he can see your face like this, falling apart in small breaths. The coil in your stomach aches.

“Tell me how it feels.” His voice is low, his breath tickling just beneath your ear.

“Good,” you reply, breathless. “Feels really good.”

He wants to ask for permission, but he can’t help it. The sight of your mouth parting in pleasure is so much. He wants to see how your face contorts when he touches you in different places. You have always been his favorite toy, haven’t you?

Without warning, he pushes an index finger into you, stifling a groan at your reaction.

“Want more? How do you like it?”

“I don’t– I don’t know?”

“You don’t touch yourself, Twigs?”

“Satoru, just– oh.”

You’re so wet around him. So tight. His cock throbs at the idea of being inside you.

“Another one?”

“Mhm.”

“Open your eyes. Want you to look at me.”

Your lashes flutter as you gasp into his mouth. He looks at you intently, mesmerized. Your hips jerk, grinding into his lap when he uses his thumb to circle your clit again, this time in a steady rhythm with two fingers inside your cunt.

Satoru exhales into your mouth, his jaw slack and moaning softly as if he’s being stimulated as much as you are. In a way, he is, from the friction of you in his lap. He thinks he might just cum in his pants from watching you. He’s never been this pent-up before.

You finish with a quiet gasp, clutching Satoru’s shoulders as you bury your face into his neck. When you pull back, he’s wonderstruck, eager to kiss your cheeks and your jaw and the space above your collarbone. His fingers, still wet with your slick, enter his mouth. He curses softly. You flush at the sight of his lips all dewy with the taste of you.

“Can I take this off?” He pulls at the hem of your dress. The sound of his voice shakes you back to Earth.

You nod, helping him slip the fabric off of your body.

It’s almost as terrible as it is tantalizing to be so vulnerable in front of him. Bare enough for him to make his mark on you, claiming you forever. You suppose he had done that long ago without you realizing.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he coos. He soothes a palm over your waist.

“Naked, you mean?”

Satoru laughs. Eyes hazy, summer blue. “Yes. But you’ve always been beautiful.”

You want to retaliate with something, ease your nerves with a joke, but the tenderness of his voice renders you speechless.

“Your turn,” you breathe, tugging at his sleeve.

When he rids himself of his shirt and sweatpants, you notice he’s as pale as moonlight. Smooth porcelain and filled-out muscle. Rigid. What happened to the lanky boy that used to pull on your braids?

“Got a staring problem?” he goads.

“Shut up.”

“Maybe if you lay back for me.”

You swallow. You listen to him. He looks at you, your hair fanning out on his pillow, your body bare and ripe for the taking. Satoru sits in front of you and coaxes your legs apart to kiss your knees, the back of your thighs. You mewl when he bites, nipping at you the same way you’d done to his neck.

“Look at you. So fucking pretty. Wanna eat you out.”

You have half a mind to say thank you, but the moment passes. You’re too fixated on the way his eyes trail down your body. How the brevity of his words makes you feel flayed alive.

When he kisses you a little too close to your core, you whine in protest and pull at his hair in a fit. He looks up at you, feigning dejection.

“I’m sorry, baby. What is it that you want, hm?”

Baby. Baby.

“Come kiss me.”

And he does, but it’s more violent this time. He doesn’t hold back on showing you how much he wants you, how badly he’s obsessed with you after seeing you fall apart so sweetly for him. The supercut of it will reel in his head long after this. He’s sure of it.

Satoru laves his tongue over the places on your neck that he’s bitten, and descends to your chest until he hooks his teeth around your nipple. He groans at the sound of your moan. His hands are still roaming, palms gripping the taut flesh of your thighs as he grinds lightly into your body enough for you to feel his hardness.

He wants to give you more, so he teases the swollen nub of your clit again with his fingertips and is delighted to feel that you’re even wetter than before – if that was even possible.

“Satoru!”

“Yes?”

Your breathing is so irregular that you can’t put your desire into words. Not without it tainting you with shame, at least. You plead with big eyes, but Satoru wants to tease you a little more. You wonder if it’s in his nature to be so cruel.

“Use your words, Twigs. What is it? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, kissing your temple. “You want a condom?”

You close your eyes, nodding, trying to savor the way he makes you feel and not the terrifying vulnerability that rots in the pit of your stomach. It’s all too much, much more than you had dreamt out, but you’re here now. You know there’s no going back. You know that when you open your eyes to see his soaking in so much light, looking at you with adoration, you wouldn’t want to go back anyway.

He’s quick to prod your entrance again. You nod slightly to permit him, clutching him like a lifeline.

“Let me know if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses you hard, consuming you as a distraction as the head of him enters you little by little. You’re wet enough to not feel any resistance. When he’s pushed to the hilt of you, he moans against your mouth. He drinks up your exhale, trying not to consider it a painful one as he runs his fingers through your hair lovingly.

It’s a strange pain. Something of an ache in the core of you, twisting at your insides in a way that also feels like crushing ripe fruit. A delicate sensation as much as it is rough. Satoru is gentle in his movements, brushing your hair out of your face. He looks at you with utmost admiration.

“Is that— is that good?” you whisper.

“I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I?” he says. You feel the rumble of his laugh against your chest. “Does it hurt?”

“Only a little. But it—it feels nice.”

He slides his cock back to thrust into you again, slowly. It’s almost languid, lazy the way he slips back into you like the two of you have just woken up from a dream.

Satoru wants to be intentional with how he fucks you. Even within these past minutes, he’s convinced he’s gotten your reactions down to memory. He’ll be able to touch you in all the right ways the next time you fall into his bed. But if he’s intentional, if he fucks you the way he truly wants to, he’s worried it’ll be too much. Everything he feels for you is too much at the moment.

“Relax for me.” His voice is smooth as butter. Your reaction is a hot knife. You notice that for the first time in a long time, in front of you, his face is blushing pink. It makes your walls tighten around him.

He rolls his hips against yours. It’s ecstasy—the feeling of you encapsulating him in lust, in softness. The drawn-out whine that tumbles out of your mouth makes it all worthwhile as Satoru thrusts with the smallest bit of intention. Softly, lovingly. After a bit, his length begins to make you feel full without all the pain. Skin kissing skin. Insides fluttering.

You don’t notice the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. The pain subsides, but the pleasure stokes the fire in your stomach until it devours you completely.

He hitches your right leg higher, ankle past his shoulder. He feels so fucking reckless, but he’ll satiate you the way you deserve—sweet and painless and passionate. The way your bottom lip trembles is making it so fucking difficult for him to stay gentle, though.

He moans your name and it reminds you of yourself. Of your body, of inhabiting it and being consumed by your best friend who is not your best friend. And you love him, you realize, but it’s a worthless feat to think about it too much during your first time. You can at least play pretend while Satoru is inside of you, as he looks at you like he’s the one in love with you.

He bites at your neck as he ruts into you a little faster. He’s so deep that you think you might go brainless—dizzied with pleasure, overflowing with thrill.

“So fucking tight,” Satoru groans. He pushes up his body now, settles himself on his knees as he holds your thighs firmly. “Look at you. My pretty girl.”

“Satoru—” you whine, feeling too exposed, too bare with him hovering over you like this—“Oh, my god—”

You’re pushed over the edge when he thumbs at your clit again, your cunt tightening around him at the feeling. You look beautiful like this. Tears of an angel. It distracts him a bit, how pretty you look, until he realizes the power he holds over you. Knowing that he’s taking.

“Too rough, baby?” he coos, leaning over to kiss your cheeks, licking up your salty tears.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “S’good. Feels good.”

He’s pushed against you again, head buried into your neck. He pulls at your hair gently, angling your face to look at him. Noses touching. Mouths sharing air.

“Gonna cum,” you whine into a kiss. He groans at your admission, pulling you taut against him as he adjusts you both to your sides. He lifts your leg over his, rolling his hips harder, and the angle makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” he curses. His eyes are wide open, mooning at your face as you cum, and he can feel his release burying inside you to the hilt.

Even after you’re both spent, he’s greedy, still hard inside of you as he continues. Lazy movements, half in tandem with your ragged breaths. He grins at you then, breathless at your blurry gaze. Kisses you sweetly like a shared promise.

The comfortable silence falls between you as you swap kisses. You hum against his lips, caressing his jaw. Your eyes blink at the sight of rain outside his bedroom window. A light drizzle despite the orange sunlight.

“Hm,” Satoru purrs. “We brought the rain.”

“What, with an orgasm?”

“I’m pretty sure you had more than one.”

“You’re so obnoxious,” you mutter.

“And still inside you,” he grins.

He pulls out when you make a grumbled sound, contrasting the melody of his laugh. He has half the mind to take a picture of you like this, sprawled in his bed like a painting. He’d keep the image of it in his wallet if he could.

Instead, he goes to the bathroom to bring you a warm, wet rag and cleans you up. He’s able to catch his breath as he rubs his hands over your bare thighs. You’re changed, glowing, yet your face is so familiar. The same one he’s been fond of for years. The shift inside him aches.

Satoru isn’t sure what to do. Usually, he’s inebriated at this point, and the sex closes with a heavy, dreamless sleep after midnight. The sun shower outside has calmed down, barely there, and afternoon sunlight floods the room. He’s more awake than ever with your presence. He’s surprised you haven’t gotten up to get dressed or made some excuse about leaving. He realizes he doesn’t want you to.

It feels normal when he falls into bed with you after just touching your skin, slips into a sweet afternoon nap. Hours later, you make him dinner. He makes you cum again.

September, 2008

You don’t understand Satoru’s affinity for sugar. You would think he had an addictive personality the way he consumed sweets – you’re surprised he isn’t addicted to something worse, like cigarettes.

Lately, he’s been complaining about craving something sweet before he fucks you. He licks his lips as you share the same mango-flavored popsicle in the courtyard of his estate. Juice dribbling down your chin. It doesn’t take him long to get you knee-deep in the grass. He teases you, tells you your pussy is sweeter. The sweetest.

Other times, you have quiet nights. He watches movies with you in your room and has sex with you before you sleep. Over a few months, Satoru gets accustomed to how you sound when he touches you until he knows you inside out. Expert in the map of your body. Of the pillow-soft places he can tease to make you cum hard.

But he doesn’t take you out after. Or before. It’s always a rendezvous, the rest of the world dead to the both of you as you consume each other. A paradise restricted to a bed. He gets you so dizzy that it doesn’t bother you. He kisses you sweetly on his way out to see his friends. He kisses you sweetly before he’s quick to slip out your door or send you out on his own.

It’s perfect for him. You’re perfect — you feel it.

Satoru likes that you’re so pliable. He can say anything he wants to you and you’ll take it. You’ll even moan for it.

Sometimes he can be mean, sometimes he has tears rolling down your face, but he always kisses them away. He likes that you let him cum in your mouth.

He especially likes that you’re good company outside of the sex. You’re the only mind that gets him besides Suguru. It’s why he likes spending time with you when everyone else is busy. Even if he’s practicing his techniques and you’re splayed on the grass, reading a book.

It’s what you’re doing now. He’s convinced you’re trying to tempt him today. At the moment you’re wearing the pleated skirt from your school uniform, despite it being summer break. The July heat made it unbearable to wear pants. It was laundry day, too, but Satoru insisted on having you come over.

“Come play with me, Twigs,” he calls after you. You look like a dream in your little tank and little skirt. Bare legs with imprints of grass patterns.

“I’m reading.”

“Just because you have a healing technique doesn’t mean that you can’t practice combat.”

“Shoko doesn’t,” you scoff.

“Shoko is going to cheat her way through med school. C’mere, I’m lonely,” Satoru whines.

You’re not as good at fighting as you were when you were children, able to at least wrestle with Satoru and have equal footing. Even then, you didn’t have enough cursed energy to fight like a true sorcerer like Satoru.

But you are getting the hang of it, bleeding cursed energy that flickered a gauzy aura around you. Satoru wonders if it’s just his six eyes that make you look so beautiful in front of him. So soft.

He ends up pushing his weight on you by the end, anyway. He revels in the way you groan, annoyed at him for pinning you down. He knows what’s on your mind from the way you lift your hips for him almost involuntarily. It’s how he has you melt in his grasp, skirt hiked over your stomach as he bullies his cock into you. You’d been asking for it since you looked at him, your teasing eyes peeking from above your book.

He finishes on the small of your back like he always does. Licks over the hickey under your collarbone, too.

You ground him. At least as much as Suguru does, but differently. He’s clear-headed after he cums, laying with you skin to skin. It reminds him that he’s human rather than a god-like prodigy. He keeps you like a pet, never wanting to let you leave him, insisting on stroking through your hair like you’re a cat.

“This has to be some form of kidnapping,” you mutter, one afternoon in his bed. He’d kept you for at least 36 hours, this time. You would never hear the end of it from your mother.

“I can always go to your house.”

“I wonder if this is codependent,” you say. You scrunch your nose as he nuzzles his to yours.

“Nah,” Satoru hums lazily.

“You don’t think so, Satoru?”

“There’s a time limit for me to hang out with my best friend?”

His quip makes your heart pang. You ignore it.

He’ll release you when he feels like it. He knows well enough that you’d rather stay in his bed all day, anyway. He’s too wrapped up in you to think about how it may be cruel.

You stay long enough that your staycation with Satoru bleeds into his usual weekend plans. This includes a movie night with Suguru, so you join.

Satoru picks something raunchy, of course. Something horrific and exploitative in a way that draws attention from its taboo. A cinematic car wreck that has your head spinning.

He whispers in your ear, teasing you, calling you baby whenever Suguru goes to the bathroom. He has his hand on your thigh, fingertips under the blanket, and close enough to your core to make you dripping wet.

And then, as the movie progresses, you tuck your body towards Suguru, who shares your distaste for such violence. Even if it’s fictional. As Satoru watches his worlds collide and sees the way Suguru’s fox eyes light up at your banter, something odd flickers inside him.

When the new semester starts in the fall, he doesn’t look at you as he walks past you.

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