#and yet! I have my father’s face and eyes in anger! I wish I could be more kind and loving on low energy and I’m sorry! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

losersiren · 1 month

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𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots.

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.” The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath.

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.”

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.”

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough.

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession.

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable.

“Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that?

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them.

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that

“Ambrose…”

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.” The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with.

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.”

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed.

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh.

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord.

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible.

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad.

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

“Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it.

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to.

Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!!

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houserautha · 2 months

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These Destined Ends

Part 1

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none for this chapter. Masterlist of warnings overarching the series

A/N: Hello! If you’re here then there’s probably something wrong with you too, so let’s be friends. I haven’t been able to write anything lately until I saw the latest Dune movie and then all of my thoughts became dedicated to Feyd-Rautha. I must get these thoughts out. Help. Me.

“Chin up.”

Your mother brushes your hair back, bronze, like hers, and lifts your chin. Her gaze is critical. You stare back, thinking only of the things that she will find fault in you. An endless amount, you muse. The slightest flicker of expression on Lady Jessica’s face informs you that she suspects what you’re thinking. Your teeth grit.

“Must you do that?” You hiss through your painted lips. The servants have dressed you specially for the occasion. A floor-length black dress and, settled on your shoulders, a red cape clasped together with the House of Atreides insignia.

Jessica withdraws her hand. Your mother radiates femininity and power, a feat you’ve yet reached. Even the cool way in which she regards you drips with regality.

“Do what?” She asks, feigning innocence.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Jessica’s blue eyes harden. “You don’t have to, daughter. It’s plain enough.”

Mother and daughter stare at one another.

She tried to teach you the ways of the Bene Gesserits, but you failed to take to it. You were too expressive, too…volatile. You struggled to detect the slightest change in voice, you could never sit still long enough to study, and your facial features always betrayed you. The only aspect you succeeded in was combat — there was no need to mask your feelings, your thoughts, able to just completely lend yourself to the blade.

But it wasn’t enough.

“You’re fortunate the Reverend Mother has chosen to see through with this arrangement,” Jessica all but snarls. “There’s hope for you still, in form of an heir.”

The Kwisatz Haderach.

The only reason your mother still spoke to you, affords you any attention at all. The fact that you’ve been painstakingly bred to produce him: a Bene Gesserit of male origin, capable of accessing the memories of his ancestors and see through time and space itself.

A terrible mantle for an unborn child.

In the black of night, you sometimes lay your hand on your abdomen and utter apologies to the egg nestled in your ovary; burdened with horrible purpose. If only you could avoid its fate. But you were not even in control of your own.

“I want to stay here,” you plea finally, pitifully.

Jessica steps away from you, brushes off her skirt. “You know that you cannot.”

“I can help Father,” you insist. “You know that he worries about gaining the approval of the Fremen. I can —”

“Enough!” The Voice. It snaps your mouth shut and renders you mute. “This is bigger than both of us.” Jessica snatches your upper arm, pulls you close enough to feel the heat of her anger. “Your father wanted a son. A heir. But it was my duty to produce a daughter. I ignored the pleas of your father because I understand what it is to serve. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

You swallow your disgust, though it lingers like a foul taste on your tongue.

This isn’t the first time that your mother has told you this. Nor did you think it would be the last.

Perhaps making a home among your enemies would be better than staying here among family.

“Fine,” you say. You wrench your arm from her grasp then turn away. It’s futile, you know the heighliner will be here soon to whisk you away, but you can’t stand to be in the presence of your mother any longer. Fortunately she lets you go.

You’re not even aware of where your feet are taking you until the familiar sound of the baliset meets your ears. Gurney rests lazily on the ground in the massive corridor, back against the wall and string instrument in his scarred hands. He doesn’t look at you as you approach nor when you collapse down beside him.

Usually Gurney’s situationally appropriate songs bring you a modicum of comfort, but today it seems more ominous than insightful.

“I won’t miss your singing,” you say.

He stops playing. “You jest.”

Playfully, you crack open one eye and peer at his baffled expression. You try not to laugh. “I don’t.” A sigh escapes your mouth then, and you slump further down, uncaring if you rumple your gown. “I will, however, miss the singer.”

“Don’t bother appealing to an old man like me. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Hm,” is all you say, lost in thought.

Gurney sets the baliset to the side. His hand finds your knee and he squeezes. “You will be fine, Lady Y/N. I’ve taught you well.”

“Not even what you’ve taught me will suffice for what I’m up against.”

“Nonsense.”

Both eyes open now, you stare pleadingly at the swordsmaster. “Just come with me. Please.”

It’s Gurney’s turn to sigh. With a groan he heaves himself to his feet and offers you a hand. “You know that I can’t,” he murmurs.

His loyalty to your father doesn’t extend to you.

He is Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis, after all. And you are just his daughter. A pawn. A womb and nothing more.

You reach out to ghost your fingers over the scar on Gurney’s cheek. “Tell me about them.”

The Harkonnens.

“There’s nothing you don’t already know or haven’t learned from the filmbooks,” Gurney says to you in a terribly soft voice. It’s unfitting of the great soldier. “They are a cruel people. Do not trust them.”

You nod, irrationally devastated that your final plea to Gurney did not work. But his words were not anything new.

Nothing you learned about the Harkonnens has been pleasant — from their oppressive rule and misogynistic society down to their industrialized homeworld. Your chest aches.

First you were forced to leave the lush beauty of Caladan for Arrakis. You had even grown admittedly fond of the desert planet, just to yet again be snatched from another home.

“Thank you, Gurney. For everything.”

He dips his chin in acknowledgment, then holds out his arm for you to take.

Gurney has been like a second father to you over the years. While Leto was out securing political alliances and holding meetings, it was Gurney who kept you company. He aided in your combat training and believed in you when no one else did. To lose him would be to lose a great friend, indeed.

By the time you return to the antechamber where you’d been, Leto has arrived. He looks as cunning and handsome as ever, and the smile he flashes you is enough to cut you to the bone.

If what Jessica said was true about your father wanting a son and being sorrowful he did not get one, you would never know. He has only ever made you feel loved.

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you. He smells wonderful. The same way he did all of those years ago when he would tell you stories of your grandfather and tuck you into bed, his beard tickling your cheek.

You breathe him in for one of the last times. “Hello, father.”

“You look marvelous,” he says. His smile falters slightly. “Are you ready? I wanted to ensure that you’ve said your goodbyes before we leave.”

Bitterly, you think, Before I leave. Everyone else will return to Arrakis and you will be moored on Giedi Prime, married to a bloodthirsty monster and forced to grow round with his child.

The thought makes your knees tremble.

The Harkonnens controlled the fiefdom of Arrakis before your family and were unbelievably outraged that it, and the flow of spice, had been stolen from them. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what your reception on their planet will be like. It’s any luck if you don’t get slaughtered upon arrival.

Especially since the Baron’s nephew, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha — your betrothed — was known for his brutal nature. You hoped stupidly that the arrangement of marriage and promise of an heir would be enough to keep you alive.

At least for awhile.

Feyd-Rautha killed his own mother. Who knew what the status of wife meant to him?

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer Leto. He squeezes your hand.

You hug Gurney goodbye then board onto the heighliner after your parents. It’s difficult to suppress the tears threatening to fall as the ship takes off in a flurry of sand and departs.

Normally you’d be completely enraptured with the endless golden dunes, but today you stay rooted to your seat and refrain from crying.

The flight to Giedi Prime happens much too quickly for your liking. Already your heart is in your throat, hammering out your nerves in a steady rhythm.

The view from your seat reveals the strange nature of your new home — a black sun. Never again will you see the stretch of blue sky from Caladan or feel the formidable heat of Arrakis. The entire world outside the ship stood in sharp black and white contrast, all color drained from the surroundings and its people.

You spy hoards of Harkonnens gathering beyond the ship, awaiting the arrival of the na-Baron’s wife and their future Baroness.

Your stomach churns. How could you ever lead such ugly, wicked people?

Jessica’s voice engulfs you. “Chin up,” she says again to your dismay. “You mustn’t show any weakness. Not here.”

You raise your chin the slightest amount. Jessica nods stiffly in approval, and it’s in that moment you understand that your mother’s harshness has been preparing you for this. While you hardly feel the urge to forgive her, an odd sense of calm washes over you.

You are an Atreides. And you always will be.

No one can take that from you.

The boarding ramp disengages and you’re the first one to step onto it. A hush of silence befalls the crowds.

You stride forward with as much confidence as you can muster, focusing not on the leering eyes of the Harkonnens but instead on the Baron’s fortress. A large pathway separates you from it, granting you plenty of time to get your fill. It’s as grand as it is excessively boastful; tall, pointed towers cleverly connected, all sharp lines and edges. It leaves the impression of a finely crafted dagger.

A display of power and wealth.

Behind you your parents emerge and the carefully observant crowd launches into disarray — shouts and yells of anger, of hatred, grate your ears. You know that they take it in stride, however, and their strength fortifies your own.

By the time you’ve crossed the distance from the heighliner to the inner walls of the fortress, your eyes are blurried by the strong contrast outside now given away to darkness. It takes a few moments for you to adjust. When you do, you quickly look over your surroundings.

There’s few decorations or art. It’s cold and impersonal and extremely clinical.

Your slippered feet reverberate off the high ceilings.

Bracing yourself, seemingly, has been for no reason. For it’s not the Baron and his nephew that meet you but rather a line of Harkonnen soldiers. Their faces are stoic.

You bristle. “Where is the Baron? And my betrothed? Do they not wish to receive us?”

The soldiers do not answer.

A man appears then from down the hall, a Mentat by the look of him. He’s pale and bald and clad in black like the other Harkonnens.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N,” the Mentat says. “My name is Piter de Vries. I am here to escort you. The Baron and na-Baron will receive you now in the throne room.”

Leto lays a hand on your arm as if to stifle your response. “Please, Piter, lead the way.”

You can’t help but glance curiously at your father. This entire situation was delicate, you knew, but you wonder at his subservience. It’s an insult not to be immediately greeted by their hosts, especially when your guests happen to be the Duke of Arrakis, his concubine, and their daughter. If Leto agrees with this affront, though, he doesn’t show it.

Leto simply strides after Piter with you and your mother in pursuit.

The fortress boasts sleek walls and floors, polished to perfection. Piter guides you to the throne room a short distance away, the sight of it stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s larger than any room you’ve seen before, outfitted on the far side with steps leading up to a grand dais.

And upon the dais, demanding your attention, is Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. The man is as large as the throne room itself but not nearly as impressive, pale and beastly, his enormous weight supported by suspenders. He makes no movement as you enter.

Your gaze moves quickly, eagerly, away from him.

Standing on either side of the dais are his two nephews. Aware that you can’t stand to face your betrothed yet, you fix your attention on his brother. Rabban, you recall his name.

Rabban is bound with hard muscle and swathed in what you can only describe as thinly veiled anger. At his side, his fists clench and unclench restlessly.

Then, without permission, you look to your future husband.

Feyd-Rautha stands as tall as Rabban but roped instead with lean, attractive muscle. His brow sits above dark eyes and a generous mouth. There’s a frightening intensity to the way he stands, encapsulating both nonchalance and a dangerous arrogance. Clearly this man is used to getting his way and will stop at nothing to do so.

And it’s this man that makes no effort to disguise the way he studies you, starting at the top of your head and trickling languidly downward.

A chill dances down your spine.

When he catches this, catches you watching him — he must’ve known that you were — his lips twitch into the faintest of smirks.

Part 2

#dune part two #dune #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd smut

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venxsssss · 2 months

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𖥻 . 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 ᯓ

°•— Lucifer morningstar x former spouse!reader

This includes Greek mythology.(basically, the reader is the daughter of Nyx, the primordial Greek goddess of the night and a consort to Erebus, the god of darkness, and one of the first goddesses, the person who made the earth, sky and sea with the one and only heavenly father. In this au, only two of Nyx's children, Hypnos, the god of sleep, and Hemera, goddess of the day, are present.)

Lucifer was besieged by a sense of unease. His offspring, well, his and Lilith's offspring, Charlie, desired to convene with the celestial beings of heaven, and now he found himself petitioning for an audience with the divine entity responsible for such meetings. He fervently hoped it would not be Michael or Adam he would have to face.

"You are granted permission to enter," the angel of unknown identity announced, eliciting a sigh of relief from Lucifer. It was not his twin brother nor the first man he was scheduled to meet.

Lucifer pushed open the door, revealing a maiden with (h/c) hair, adorned with slender blonde streaks. She was engrossed in the signing of documents, her crimson eyes, mirroring his own, a rarity amongst the heavenly hosts. No being, mortal or angelic, bore such eyes of deep red. "What is it that you seek, Lucifer Morningstar?" she inquired, her gaze seething with an indiscernible mix of anger and loathing. Her presence was a mystery to him; she was not among the archangels during his tenure, and her age seemed to align with Charlie's, albeit slightly older.

Yet, there was an uncanny... 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 about her.

He released a heavy sigh and met her gaze head-on. "My progeny desires an audience in the heavenly realms," he responded, detecting a twitch in the girl’s eyebrow. "She is haunted by a dream," he added. The girl exhaled slowly, her eyes once again meeting his.

"Your offspring wishes for a celestial audience because of a dream?" she questioned, her tone icy, causing Lucifer to swallow hard. "Indeed, she does," he confirmed, his voice faltering. Despite his reign over hell, he found himself unable to assert dominance over this young maiden.

"Hmm, she must take after you, Morningstar," she remarked, causing Lucifer to glance at her nervously. "Very well, I shall relay this request to the higher-ranking seraphim. I am not in a position to make such decisions on my own." Lucifer exhaled in relief. "I am in your debt," he expressed his gratitude. The maiden's eyebrow twitched once more, amplifying his nervousness. He diverted his gaze around the room, seeking to avoid her piercing eyes.

His eyes roved the room, finally resting on the maiden's name, etched in gold on the wall - 'Helena Athanasios'.

By the grace of Zeus... Athanasios?

Could it be related to THE Y/n Athanasios? His former spouse before he met Lilith and became a fallen angel?

Lucifer's mind was a whirlwind of questions - 'Who is this maiden?', 'Is she kin to you?', 'Why have I not met her before?' He swallowed hard once more, plucking up the courage to address her again. "Might I inquire if you are of kin to Y/n Athanasios?" he asked. The maiden's expression turned hostile. Oh dear.

"And pray, why should that concern you?" she retorted, adding, "To satisfy your curiosity and bring this meeting to a close, I am indeed a child of Y/n Athanasios, the female half of the twin pair, Helena Athanasios, formerly known as Helena Lightbringer - Morningstar."

"Now, I bid you take your leave. And no, I shall not entertain any further inquiries. 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦." she commanded, and before Lucifer could utter another plea, he found himself expelled from Helena's office.

Helena heaved a sigh and bit her lower lip. She and her twin, Aether, harboured a deep resentment towards their father. Especially Aether. In fact, she was grateful to be the one handling this task; had it been her brother, the room would have been reduced to rubble.

man, I can't explain nicely and specifically, sorry😓

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne

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blackypanther9 · 3 months

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Boys ask you out – Teen!Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor

A/N: Human!Alive!Alastor and Human!Alive!Daughter Reader.

Headcanon(?) THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC !!!

(picture belongs to rightful owner)

Alastor and you were just eating out in a restaurant, as a teenage boy came up to them and asked you out on a date.

You felt slightly caught off guard and shy, but agreed softly.

Alastor just looked at you and then at the boy, clearing his throat, which made the boy look at him.

“And who may you be, my good fellow ? Boldly asking my daughter out in front of me ?”

“My n-name is Finn, Sir.”

“When did you ask me for my permission to ask my daughter out, Finn ?”

You could tell that your Father was losing his last bits of patience with this teen. You found it quite amusing how protective your Dad was, yet...you understood why. A killer was roaming around after all.

“I didn’t know this charming woman needed her Father’s approval to go out on a date.”

Oh...wrong, overconfident answer and you knew that. You always looked at your Father for approval. He could read people a bit better than you and you trusted his judgment.

“She needs it indeed. That is my daughter after all.”

“You treat her like an object right now.”

Your Father’s eye twitched slightly at the boy’s comment.

“I don’t. There is a murderer running around and you expect me to let my daughter run around freely and alone, in the middle of the night, with some stranger ? Ha ! No.”

You gave your Father a small smile, grateful he looked after you so much. Even though he was the Killer.

The boy scoffed and looked at you again, smile gentle, but fake.

“Tomorrow evening at 6PM in front of this very restaurant, beautiful ?”

You were speechless and looked at your Dad for help. Alastor had a look of annoyance on his face, but his smile didn’t drop yet.

“She is not going anywhere with you, boy. She has no permission to go out with you. Now shoo off.”

The boy scoffed and left. You looked at your Dad.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“No problem, mon ange (My angel).”

That boy was Alastor’s Dinner the next evening, for his lack of manners.

-Another day-

The both of you took a stroll through the park as a group of boys spotted you with your Father.

A blond haired boy approached you, very confident and he seemed to have a very highly stroked ego, like no one can say no to him.

He ran a hand over his hair and gave a flirty smirk towards you.

“Hey there, beautiful~ Wanna go out with me tonight~?”

You got nervous and looked at your Dad, this boy made you uncomfortable.

“My face is over here, pretty girl~”

The boy TOUCHED your chin and had the AUDACITY to turn your face back on himself, forcefully, IN FRONT of Alastor !

Alastor smacked the boy’s hand harshly, the guy yelped and let go, shaking his hand, glaring at your Father.

“What is your Problem, man ?!”, the boy snarled.

“What is MY problem ? Has your Mother never taught you how to treat a woman ? How dare you touch her without asking for permission ? And that in front of ME !”

Your Father was positively boiling in anger. He pulled you into his side, glaring down at the boy. He was the next to die tonight.

“Who even are you ? Her lover ?”, he asked in disgust.

“I am her FATHER.”

At that the blond boy grew a smirk.

“Then shouldn’t you be thrilled that someone like me even bothers to ask your daughter out ?”

This boy was on thin ice and your jaw dropped open in offence. You glared at the boy in disgust.

“Papa ?”, you called out.

“Yes, Darling ?”, Alastor responded, looking at you gently.

“I would like to go HOME. This disgraceful human being ruined my mood. I wish to return home and read a good book.”

The blond boy stared at you in offence, then disgust.

“How dare you call me that ?! I can get any woman I WANT !”

You gave him an unimpressed glare.

“Well, you didn’t get me now, did you ? You have a foul mouth with a disgusting attitude and now, I wish to retreat home, Papa.”

“Of course, Cher.”

The blond boy’s hand formed into a fist and he swung his fist. You closed your eyes tightly, but the impact never came.

You opened your eyes and saw that your Father caught the boy’s hand. His smile and eyes were wide and filled with rage. The boy quivered at that, turning pale.

“You try that again, young man, and we will have very big problems. Understood ?”, Alastor said calmly.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now go away.”

As soon as your Father let go of the boy’s hand, the guy ran away and back to his friends, who laughed at him.

Your Father put a hand on your back and guided you back home.

Overall, Alastor would observe every young man that approaches you, to ask you out.

He would interfere when he doesn’t like them at all.

He would force them to ask for his permission first, because that was how it was usually done in his time anyways and he knew, for a fact, that tradition didn’t stop yet.

Usually a lot of boys back down as soon as he demanded them to ask for his permission first, others would ask and get a big, fat NO from him anyways, which amused you to no ends.

Alastor would be overprotective of you and he was NOT afraid to show it.

He would pull you into his side and wrap an arm protectively over you, showing that you had someone to protect you and that he didn’t take any Bullshit from anyone.

A boy tried to force you to go out with them, they would be found dead soon enough.

Alastor was possessive of you, not in a romantic or perverted sense, but you were his daughter and he knew what young men usually thought when they saw a beautiful woman. He hated the thought of you leaving one day and never coming back. He had some enemies. What if they got you ? No, no, no, he can’t let that happen.

He glared every young man down, that dared to give you nicknames, just to butter you up. Usually they would be his next Dinner too.

As soon as he sees a young lad eying you with impure thoughts, he will end them in the week. If they dare to approach you too and ask you out, clearly just looking to disgrace you, he would go so far as to be very aggressive.

Alastor, your Father, saw no boy worthy enough to date you, in his eyes, they were all way too beneath his Angel. So get ready to have a very long time to staying single and left at peace.

You couldn’t have asked for a better Dad. Alastor was a top #1 Dad in the world. No matter what.

-Addition if you both land in Hell together-

He will NOT let you date in Hell. Absolutely NOT.

He would constantly worry over your safety and send his shadows after you.

Alright...he let you date ONCE in hell and it was an absolute disaster !

That pig just wanted to get into your underwear and the Radio Demon was FURIOUS !

Save to say he ate that guy and then forbid you from dating in Hell. FORGET IT. NO DATES AND LOVE LIFE IN HELL.

And you are not allowed to leave his side for a long while after that either !

He is still your #1 Dad in the whole world though. <3

A/N: So....what do ya think?

(Words: 1 372)

Masterlist HERE !

#fanfiction #fem!reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #Father!Alastor x Daughter!Reader #Alive!Alastor #Human!Alastor #Alive!Reader #Human!Reader #Boys ask you out – Teen!Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor

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sanemi-whore · 10 months

Text

Phantasm (Cruel World Final)

You retire from the Demon Slayer Corps and return back home to your father. You'll never forget those you met during your time as a slayer and often send letters to them. One evening you see Genya, stating that he needs you to take care of his brother. @roaringlion @kiki17483 @stuckinthewrongworld @neji85 @nyarffeu @muichirosloveee @plvuii @annie-napier @dependsontheday @crazycatlddy @idiatism @kxthxrinx0310 @summ3rd4yz @iviyna @neji85

Part 1 | Part 2 warning: cursing, everyone hates sanemi lol, heavy ansgt themes, multiple character death, body worship, oral (m/f), creampie, cowgirl, fingering, word count: 10.823

Public Enemy #1 was what Sanemi became. In the eyes of the Hashira - even Obanai who attempted to be neutral even gave him a look of disdain. Uzui often berated him, stating that he didn’t deserve a woman like you - and Sanemi knew as such. Shinobu made it her mission while treating him to make it as painful as possible - seeing as she could be gentle when she desired.

Hell, even Tomioka gave him deeper frowns than normal and that was saying a lot. You set your mark upon the Corps and now that you were going to be leaving soon, everyone despised him for it.

Did anyone know the true meaning? No. They didn’t dare ask Sanemi. They didn’t wish to ask you, either, not wishing to see the sadness grow deeper in your eyes. What they did know was that Sanemi and your relationship had grown sour, you were leaving the Corps and the only logical person to blame was the man in the situation.

Sanemi hisses when a sharp pain swipes at his neck. It’s Hiyori - again - claws digging deep into his neck while her beak bites against his ear. This is the fifth time in the last two days she has attacked him randomly, Sorai no longer wishing to help out of fear of her attack coming to him next.

“Fuck.” Sanemi swipes at the crow to defend himself from her attack. She squeaks, eyes glaring before she flocks away. He couldn’t be upset with Hiyori - she adored you just as much as everyone did. Even Ginko - Muichiro’s sly crow - had come to your defense. Sanemi likes to believe that the crow just desires to berate anyone that isn’t Muichiro and joins in on the torment out of boredom.

“Serves you right.”

Uzui.

Sanemi sighs. Great, another session of the man berating him because of you.

“I don’t have time for you right now.” Sanemi continues his stroll back to his estate. He had tatami mats to slice up to get his mind off of you.

“What’d you do to Y/N?”

Sanemi continues to walk.

“So unflashy.”

“Your lack of hand is unflashy.” Sanemi retorts.

Uzui cackles. “Yet I can keep all three of my wives. I cannot say the same for you, Shinazugawa.” Tengen trails behind the younger man who’s shoulders tense at the remark. “I’m serious now. What did you do to her?”

Sanemi stops in his tracks. He doesn’t turn to face Uzui. Even with one eye, the man knew how to see right through him.

“Did she leave yet?”

You haven’t spoken to Sanemi in a week. His heart hurts and longs to see you, just to see that you’re alright. But he cannot be selfish enough to hold you back from what you want.

“No. She will in another week.” Sanemi exhales at the response. “You make her cry. I can never forgive you for that, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi recalls your wet eyes as you were leaving his estate. His throat tightens.

“Y/N saw you as a savior of the sort. She spoke so highly of you - even now. I rarely see her smile and there's always a sadness behind her eyes. It outweighs Tomioka’s.”

Sanemi swallows the lump in his throat. He continues walking and this angers Uzui. “I’m talking to you!” the retired Hashira roars. “What the hell happened-”

“I took advantage of her!” Sanemi roars back, turning to face the taller man. “I took advantage of her and I can’t forgive myself.”

Uzui stops in his tracks, fuschia eyes examine Sanemi’s face. “Are you admitting to…assaulting her?” Uzui is unsure where this conversation was heading. He doesn’t want to believe that Sanemi would intentionally cause you any harm.

“Ye-”

Sanemi falls onto his back and there's a sting in his face. Even retired with one hand and eye, Uzui was just as fast and strong as ever. Sanemi holds his nose and glares at the man, liquid leaking into his palm.

Tengen steps back and admires the sight. “You have changed.” he murmurs more to himself than to Sanemi. “You’re hurting just as much as Y/N. You’re better at hiding it.” Uzui kneels down to reach eye level to Sanemi. “The Shinazugawa I know would’ve never let anyone hit him and get away with it.”

The teasing was back. Uzui was willing to hear what Sanemi had to say. “What really happened?”

Sanemi rips a piece of his haori and plugs his nose. He does speak. He explains the entirety of the mission - the demon art and how he felt, the demon that was a Lower Moon that took your shape and how you managed to defeat it effortlessly. He explained how his body felt - hot, heavy and in excruciating pain; nauseous at the forbidden sight of you. Sanemi even goes as far as to detail the internal dialogue and the flashes of delusion his mind sent as to how badly he desired to have you.

Tengen listens with wide eyes, attempting his hardest now to cackle at Sanemi’s explanation.

“What you explain to me, Shinazugawa, sounds like consensual sex.” Tengan shakes his head. Kids, he thinks, even if you and Sanemi were considered adults. Still, anyone younger than him would be kids in his eyes. “She wanted you. You wanted her. You fucked the life-” Sanemi growls, tips of his ears hot red.

“Look,” Uzui chuckles. “That’s not assault. Did Y/N feel indifferent about it?”

Sanemi glances away with a shrug. He didn’t know how you felt.

“Did you two talk about it?”

Sanemi shakes his head.

“...What did you do?”

“Ignored her.”

Tengen groans. He wants to send another punch to Sanemi’s nose but refrains. “You take her virginity and fuck her all night while declaring to always protect her and,” Tengen raises one hand and does air quotations. “the child you were begging to fuck into her just to ignore her this whole time?”

Sanemi stiffens. When he thinks of it that way, it sounded more fucked up then he intended.

Tengen stands, shaking his head at the dumb Wind Hashira. “Unflashy of you.” he turns and begins to journey back to his own home.

Sanemi stands with a huff. His nose was broken now and the only person who could fix it was unfortunately Kocho. He journeys to the Butterfly Mansion, mind on his conversation with Uzui.

Sanemi didn’t want to leave you the morning he woke. He desired to hold you close to him, inhaling your sweet scent. But he was disgusted with himself more than anything. In his mind, he took advantage of you and your intoxicated state. There were bruises and marks littering your once perfect skin - all made by him and his savage ways. He couldn’t control himself and now you were forever tainted - he didn’t regret his night with you. He regretted how it happened.

Sanemi admitted to himself that morning that he loved you, stating it aloud while you slept soundlessly. His mind also recalls the way you also admitted to loving him during your time together, but that was during your intoxicated state of sex and the demon art. But knowing what love meant to him only meant there was a matter of time until the love he harbored would crush him. Memories of the night prior flood in and he thinks about how deep he was into the demon art that he was paralyzed right beneath a Lower Moon. What if you weren’t capable enough to stop her? It would’ve been his fault why you died - and the thought sent shivers all over his body.

It hurts Sanemi to ignore you, but he wanted you to hate him. He wanted you to eventually be so angered with him that you wouldn’t bother to care for him any longer.

But no, instead you apologized. You thanked him. You left - all because you thought you were a burden to him.

“Sit.” Shinobu is curt with her responses to Sanemi. “Oh my, your nose is broken. Who managed to get to you first?”

Sanemi doesn’t retort in the way he usually would. “Uzui.”

Shinobu giggles with satisfaction. Serves you right, she wants to say.

Shinobu places her hands on Sanemi’s nose and jerks it harshly. Sanemi hisses, eyes snapping shut at the pressure.

“Fixed.” Shinobu sing-songs. “You’re free to go.”

Sanemi doesn’t stand, not even when Shinobu has turned to give him a look of distaste.

“Is Y/N alright?”

Shinbou’s eyebrows knit harshly. “Y/N is none of your concern!” she snaps. “Not after all you’ve done to her.”

Sanemi sighs. “She told you.” he states. “I saw her…coming here a few times. Just-”

“You don’t have the right to act concern now, Shinazugawa.” Shinobu interrupts. Sure, she doesn’t know the full story of you and Sanemi’s relationship, but she knows enough of the outcome of it. “You’ve put her through enough.”

Sanemi stands and makes his leave. Everyone loved you, as they should, but everyone hated him. He wasn’t going to get any answers from Shinobu about you and he cannot be upset about it either way.

Y/N-san. How have you been since retiring? It gets lonely sometimes without you here but I I was told by Genya-kun to be a man. Even so, I can see that even he appears to be saddened by your loss. He doesn’t speak to me much without me talking first, but we eat together often when we can. It feels different without you here to keep the peace. I hope you’re doing good, Y/N-san, and you find the peace you deserve.

-Hoshi Shinra

You read Shinra’s message with a soft smile on your lips. You’re glad that he and Genya could get along with one another. You know just how Genya could be - similar to his brother at times. But he was a good boy, after all.

It’s been only a month since you retired from the Corps. Retired sounds foreign to say. You haven’t been a slayer for long and you even felt ashamed to say that you’ve retired already. Those who were younger than you remained in the corps and fought while you retired; seemingly from a broken heart. You want to laugh at how weak you truly were, but you decided against it.

Returning home wasn’t what you truly wished to do. You haven‘t spoken to your father in close to two years - not even a letter. He hasn’t attempted to find you, either, and possibly assumed you were either dead or a part of someone's brothel.

The look on your fathers face upon your return was one of pure shock. He hadn’t said anything for the first few moments of seeing you. Was he happy? Angered? Relieved to see his only living child?

Your answer came when the man raised his hand to slap you - a hand you caught easily. You pushed the man away and swallow thickly. He was upset. Surely because you had gone rogue and that meant whatever money your husband had paid you for had to be returned. But, your father was never violent towards you before - the smell of alcohol laced in his breath told you that he had taken in the habit even more while you were gone.

Your father didn’t stop, however. He was just as talkative as he once was. He yelled at you, stating that you were the reason he had gone broke. He had to work his ass off to pay off your debt to the man that you were destined to marry - that he even had to sell personal items. You shoved a few wads of cash in his face to shut him up.

You were an adult - always had been. However, you were stronger. You trained alongside Hashira. You beheaded demons - and though you were not on the level of a Hashira, you were damn near close. The Lower Moon was nowhere near what Upper Moon Uzui, Tanjiro, Inosuke and Zenitsu fought, but it was a kizuki nonetheless. You would return home and deal with your father, but you weren’t going to tolerate disrespect.

Your father noticed the change in you. He doesn’t ask where you’ve gone for nearly two years. He knows that you’ve grown. Hair longer, body toned and strong and face stoic. You appeared to be alert at all times, even with the slightest of sounds. But, that didn’t stop his disdain for you.

“You could’ve been set for life.” your father told you one night at dinner. He ate what you cooked with a side of alcohol - a normal set up for him.

“Could I have? Or would you’ve been set for life without me?’ you retort, taking a bite of the chicken you prepared. Another thing your father had to grow accustomed to - your mouth. You talked back now, an act he didn’t appreciate.

“I gave you to that man to take care of you!” your father yells, banging his hand onto the table. His breath stinks of sake. You contemplate hiding the bottle, but that would only mean he’d tear the home apart looking for it or just go buy another.

“You sold me to him.” you deadpan. You’re unsure what lie your father had told himself to make himself feel better about it, but it wasn’t the truth. He sold you to get money for himself and get rid of you. You’re back now and he hated you for it - oh well. “I paid my due to you already. Eat your food.”

“Where did you get that money?” your father hisses. The only time he’s seen so much cash upfront was from the man - and you didn’t return from him. “You decided to be an Oiran like I said?” your father scoffs with a shake of his head.

Your appetite is lost now. You gather the dishes and begin to wash them, deciding that ignoring your father was for the best. But that didn’t mean your father was done. He continues, carrying on how you cost him a lot of money and you being back was a slap to the face. You pondered if retiring was even worth it if it meant you had to deal with him on the daily. You cooked for him on the daily, made sure the home was clean and even bought whatever was needed for the home - and still, he hated you. It was as though your existence here was causing him such anger.

Genya, I’m glad to hear from you. I’ve heard from Shinra that you’ve been eating together! I’m glad you and he are building a friendship! I hope you’re eating well and staying healthy.

Please, stay safe.

-Y/N

You folded Genya’s letter and placed it inside a small envelope. You had several letters to go through, even some from those you weren’t expecting. You opened an envelope and were surprised to find several leaves, acorns, seeds and even rocks. The next envelope was from Tanjiro who apologized for the mess caused by Inosuke. Apparently the boy wanted to gift you something after Tanjiro explained that he would be writing you a letter - it warmed your heart knowing that even Inosuke was a part of your penpal group.

The next letter was a surprise, signed by several lower-rank slayers. It caused you to laugh upon reading it, catching you completely off guard. It detailed how Sanemi had turned sour once more and that he was utterly murderous. It continued saying that they wish you were there to calm him down with whatever “miracle” tea you made him while in Asakusa. In the end, they wished you the best on retirement, warming your heart even more.

Y/N, I hope you’re well. Sumi, Naho and Kiyo miss you and though she won’t admit it, so does Aoi. It feels different without you here. Shinazugawa still gets attacked randomly by Hiyori and now even Sorai is too frightened to help! I know you wish to not speak of him, but he asks about you constantly. I have not told him anything, do not worry! I’ve attached some medicine to this letter that would help ease the morning sickness - please take it daily. Please keep yourself in good health; not only for you, but for the baby.

-Kocho Shinobu

Shinobu was sent from heaven, you’re convinced. It was only a few days ago that you spoke of your nausea daily in a letter - even when it stretched far from the morning. It was difficult keeping any food down and water appeared to be the only thing that didn’t mess with your stomach. The medicine she gave appeared to be enough to last a month or two.

You laid a hand on your stomach and sighed. You weren’t far along, only in your fourth month. You thought you appeared bigger than normal, but maybe it was just your head doing things to you,

Your mind flickers to the same day you found out about said pregnancy and how you spoke with shinobu. She had assured that it would be painless - and you believed her. She made you a drink and handed it to you with a warm look in her eyes.

You recall the way you smelt it before attempting to drink. Your hands were trembling and as you brought it to your lips, you felt just how wet your cheeks were.

You couldn’t do it.

Shinobu had consoled you for what appeared to be hours. You apologized profusely to her, stating that you were doing nothing but wasting her time. She assured you that you weren’t, that you were going through something normal. She never onced judged you - and for that you were thankful. She had kept your secret and allowed you to leave the Corps with whatever dignity you had left.

Your father, on the other hand, was another story. Upon returning home with a flat stomach, he was beginning to think he was seeing things when your stomach began to grow. Your kimono couldn’t have been that big and your weight didn’t change elsewhere but your stomach. “That’s why you returned home.” he spat once he realized just what was the issue with you. “Because whatever man that did this to you had left you! It’s what you deserve for leaving.”

It’s what you deserved, his words rang in your ear.

Once all of your letters were written, you pushed yourself away from your desk and stood. You were trying to make it a habit to walk. You didn’t feel different now early on in your pregnancy, but you didn’t want anything to change as you grew closer to when you were expected.

You strolled out of your home, finding the sun to be high in the sky. Your father would be at the pub right about now, not that you cared where he spent his time.

There’s a light breeze, you note, as you walk. It isn’t a warm breeze that causes your skin to crawl with such heat, but a nice one that causes you to sigh in relief.

“I hope it’s a girl!”

You turn to the sound of the sudden voice. You were strolling for about ten minutes, not far from your home. You thought you were alone - a village is not far from here, but usually people didn’t tend to walk down this path often.

Your eyes catch a child - a small girl. Her eyes are large and blue and she’s smiling at you. Her hair is black and tied in a low bun. Her kimono was long and red and her obi was orange.

“Ah, hello.” you offer her your own smile. She’s cute, so small and innocent. “I never thought about gender much.”

You’re unaware she could see your bump through your kimono.

The girl crosses her arms. “I hope it’s a girl.” she repeats. “There’s a lot of boys in my family. I only have one sister.” she has a look of disdain on her face.

You giggle. “Is that so? But don’t you love them?”

The girl seems to ponder on your question before nodding.

“Then it’s alright, isn’t it?” you question.

The girl slowly nods. “I guess so.” she murmurs. “I remember when my baby brother was born!”

“Is that so?” you ask.

The girl begins to walk besides you as she speaks, never focusing on just one topic and instead jumping between a few of them. You listen to what she has to say, unphased to be speaking to a child. You assumed she lived nearby and her brothers were in the village where the majority of the shops were at. She spoke fondly of them and this causes your heart to swell. You missed your own brother at times.

“Would you like something…to drink…?” your eyes scan the surrounding area for the little girl who was just talking your ear off to find her gone. You hum. She must’ve ran off somewhere. You only hope she would find her siblings before the sun set.

“Must you cut yourself so deep?” you sigh, dousing the ointment across his open wound. “Surely any amount of blood could intoxicate the demons.”

The mission was done, leaving Sanemi a bloody mess before you. You learn to pack a small kit for this moment after the first time he cut himself in front of you to distract a demon.

Sanemi snickers. “I get carried away sometimes.”

You knit your brows, glancing into his eyes. He’s already watching you, and noticing your eyes meet, he glances away.

“It doesn’t really hurt anymore.” Sanemi continues just as you apply the bandage over the wound. “I’ve got enough scars to prove that I’ve been doing this for a while.”

You nod at his words, your eyes scanning the amount of scars littering his skin. It covers his entire torso, back and arms. Some appear to be fresh while others old and forming into new skin on top.

“Do they bother you?”

Sanemi’s question catches you by surprise. You shake your head, hoping he didn’t think you were insulting his appearance. “I think they’re interesting.”

Sanemi hums.

Sanemi’s not entirely convinced.

“Each scar has a story to it.” you say. You lean back to give the man a smile. “It shows just how strong you are.”

You pat a scar on his chest gently and Sanemi feels himself grow hot. He turns his eyes back to you, finding that you weren’t lying. Your eyes show just how sincere you were being with him.

“Children often run from me.” Sanemi tries to joke with you to lighten the mood, but he curses himself mentally at the look in your eyes.

“Maybe you should smile more.” you offer and this causes Sanemi to scoff aloud. “I’m serious! You look terrifying to others when you’re upset.”

“Not to you.” Sanemi states. He didn’t care what other people thought of him. You were different. Your opinion of him mattered.

“Of course not.” you grin. “You’re nice to me.”

Sanemi swallows.

“Let’s try to smile without appearing menacing.” you suggest. Your hands touch his face and Sanemi feels the familiar jolt in his heart. Your hands are soft and you come even closer, your scent surrounds his nostrils.

You’ve grown used to being able to touch him without a care and Sanemi never pushes you away.

Your fingers lift his cheeks up and you begin to giggle at how unnatural he appeared. Sanemi concludes that he likes the way your laughter sounds.

The mysterious little girl had returned countless times over the course of three months - this time however with another girl nearly identical to her. Her black hair is tied in a bow in the back of her hair. Her kimono is a minty green with a lime green obi. Her eyes are just as blue as her sisters and you can’t help but giggle at the two of them.

“What do you wish to have, Y/N-san?” they had asked you. “Have you thought of any names?”

You were unsure yourself. You often think of the baby's gender and what you’d name them in the middle of the night when you’re supposed to be sleeping. You wondered if they would have Sanemi’s hair color and eyes or would they take after you. Maybe a complete half of the both of you? You find yourself wishing that the baby would have something of their father, hair, eyes - anything.

“I have thought of no names yet.” you answer truthfully. “I just want them to be strong and healthy.”

“Like their dad?”

You’re taken aback by the statement Slowly, you nod. “Y-Yes. He was…is a very strong man.” you say to them.

You swallow. You pondered how Sanemi was doing. You have not asked when you write to anyone and they rarely bring him up. You haven’t received any letters so far, but you concluded that they were busy and whenever they were available, they would.

Still, you harbored no bad feelings for Sanemi. In the end, he was the father of your unborn child, nonetheless, and even if things turned sour, you held him in great respect. It would be difficult to explain to a child why they had no father, but you had years to prepare for that conversation.

“Do you miss him, Y/N-san?” two pairs of cerulean eyes are watching you and slowly, you nod your head. “Go see him, Y/N-san! I know he misses you, too!”

You giggle at the two girls. They were young. Life was more complicated than what their young minds could comprehend. “Wait here.” you tell them. Your child was kicking on your bladder and you had to once again, relieve yourself.

But the children were gone by the time you returned, but you’ve grown used to the way they’d disappear randomly just to reappear once more. You would leave little treats and candies for them that they never touched - maybe they didn’t like sweets? You never met a kid who didn’t, but eventually you’d learn what they like.

You closed your eyes and inhaled. You swayed back and forth slightly as you sat upon the hardwood floor of the outside deck. The sun felt nice against your skin.

“Y/N…?”

Your eyes flash open at the familiar voice. Your heart pumps.

“Genya?”

Genya was before you. His eyes appear confused.

“Genya!” you lift yourself from the ground steadily and make your way to the boy standing a few feet away. His eyes are wide as he watches you. “How did you know where to find me? How-”

“You can see me?” Genya asks suddenly and you stop in your tracks. Your smile turns to a frown and now you’re tilting your head.

“Genya, of course I can see you.” you try to laugh, but nothing you’re saying or doing to ease the situation is doing anything. “Genya,” you shake your head. This had to be a dream of the sort.

“Y/N, you’re…” Genya swallows thickly with a shake of his head. “There’s a reason why I’m here. You…you’re pregnant.”

Nothing was making sense to you. What was Genya talking about?

“Brother!”

The familiar voices of the two young girls. They come besides you, one at each side.

“I hope YN-san has a girl! Don’t you think we need more girls in the family?” the one with the red kimono speaks.

“Yes! I hope she looks just like me.” the one with the minty kimono retorts.

Your blood runs cold. Your eyes widen and now you understand just what’s happening.

“Y/N!” Genya calls for you.

You’ve fallen to your knees, the tears flowing down your face. You’re trembling.

“Genya…you…you’re..?”

You don’t want the words to leave your lips.

“Yes.”

You sob a little louder. Your heart is pounding outside your chest.

“Sumi…Teiko…” Genya murmurs.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N-san.” Sumi says.

“What happened, Genya? How have you…?” you’re unable to stop the tears from falling. “W-Who else…?”

Genya doesn’t want you to be in pain. He’s unsure what to do or why he’s here - how you can see and speak to not only him, but Sumi and Teiko.

“Don’t cry, Y/N. W-We won.” Genya attempts to lift your mood, but he knows it's useless. “Muzan…muzan is dead.”

You want to scoff at his words.

Because yes, Muzan was dead by what Genya has said.

But at what cause? How many young, innocent lives had been taken during the process? Genya was just the only life gone that you could see. Has Tanjiro survived along with Zenitsu and Inosuke? Did they manage to turn Nezuko back into a human - the young sweet girl with such kind eyes tugging at your heart strings. Sumire…Roshi…Shinra. Your blood runs cold when your mind wanders to Sanemi.

Genya answers you and you feel as though your heart would give out at any moment. Nearly everyone you have grown to love has sacrificed themselves to stop Muzan. You feel selfish for retiring the way you had. You should’ve fought alongside them. Maybe then-

“Stop blaming yourself, Y/N.” Genya tells you. He can sense the guilt throughout you. “Please don’t think about what could have been.”

“Genya…”

“Think about now.” Genya says, his head motioning to your stomach. “No one blames you for retiring.”

You shake your head.

“Please calm down, Y/N-san.” Teiko murmurs, her eyes sad at the sight of you.

“Please, Y/N.” Genya begins. “I-I don’t know what my Aniki did to you but…” he swallows. He feels selfish for even thinking about this. You deserved to feel whatever you felt towards his brother. “...please…don’t hate him. Can you find it in your heart to forgive him?”

Genya’s eyes are hopeful as he looks into your tearful ones. You swallow thickly. You were never upset with Sanemi - you’d forgiven him long ago.

“I-I…” your cheeks are tear stained as your mind attempts to gather all the information given to you. “I have to go.”

Your legs are trembling as you stand. Teiko and Sumi - finally learning the girls' names - are by your side.

“Y/N, please. You aren’t in the position to go anywhere.” Genya is nervously walking behind you. He is still unsure why he was here. He understands that he had died during the battle, but he recalls reuniting with his younger siblings - then he was here before you.

“I have to see them.” you’re scurrying around in your home. Your father was nowhere in sight and you’re glad that he wasn’t. You would appear to be talking to yourself.

Genya only shakes his head. You were stubborn and he now understands why his brother loved you as much as he did.

“Okay. I’ll accompany you.” It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Moving on into the afterlife appeared to be much more difficult then he ever thought it would be.

Genya watches as you pack a light bag. He finds his eyes wandering to your small bump and he feels warmth - was it possible for him to feel this way while deceased? He’s unsure truly and doesn’t want to question it any longer.

“Are you sure you want to travel now, Y/N?” Genya questions once you are done. Teiko and Sumi are both by your side again, large eyes so soft and caring for the woman that was you. “I don’t want you to be in harm's way.”

You want to reach out for Genya and touch him, but you’re unsure if it is possible. You never thought to try, either, not sure how you’d react if your hand didn’t get to touch him. “Yes.” you nod. “After all, you guys won.”

Your mind is unsure how long Sanemi and you had gone round for round - but you’re certain that you cannot get enough. You’ve never pleasured a man before - not until now. But Sanemi wasn’t just any man - he was the man you’ve grown to love. You accepted it now more than ever.

“Y-You don’t have-” Sanemi throws his head back. He’s sweaty, chest rising and falling as he pants. Your lips wrap around the tip of his cock, warm tongue licking gently on the sensitive tip.

Sanemi hisses even more at the feeling of your tongue. He opens his eyes to glance at you and is positive that one day, you’d be the death of him. Not a demon or anything else - but you.

You looked so beautiful to Sanemi, equally as sweaty with hair sticking to your forehead. Such innocent eyes looking up at him for approval while your mouth sucked him with all the might you could muster.

Your hand wraps around the length of his cock and pumps while you focus on sucking the tip. You weren’t sure if you were doing this right, however Sanemi’s moaning. Nor does he appear to be bored or upset by your actions, so you’ll assume that he was enjoying himself.

“S-Stop!” Sanemi jerks, feeling himself ready to cum - as embarrassing as it was. It hasn’t even been five minutes.

But you don’t, enjoying the flushed look on Sanemi’s cheeks. You go as far as your mouth would allow, feeling the tip of him hit your throat. You begin to gag, feeling your throat clog up, but you don’t stop. Sanemi’s moans edge you on and your legs clench together, enjoying the way you were making him feel.

Your head bobs up and down, suckling. The sounds of your sucking mixed with low curses and grunts from Sanemi echo off the room. The sight is as filthy as it comes, but neither of you cared.

You release Sanemi’s cock from your mouth with a pop, a string of saliva connecting from your lip to the tip of it. Sanemi twitches slightly, finally able to calm down - but still, you had other plans. You allowed Sanemi to take control for hours, now it was your turn to pleasure him.

Sanemi’s eyes snap open when you sit upon his lap. You give him a cute smile that melts his heart.

“I’m not really sure how good I’ll be.” you tell him, leaning down to peck his lips.

Sanemi grunts into the kiss. He positions himself at your entrance. “You’ll be amazing,” he responds.

You sit fully onto Sanemi’s cock, hands placing themselves on his bare shoulders. You shudder, the familiar pleasure coming back to you.

Sanemi watches between hooded eyes as you begin to move your hips, his hands placing themselves permanently onto your hips. You’d do amazing, he told you, and amazing you did. You started off stiff, unsure of what to do, but after a few moments you got the hang of it. You lifted your hips and brought them back down at a steady pace.

Sanemi finds it hard to focus on just one thing. Your breasts are bouncing for him to see and for a moment, he’s mesmerized. Then his eyes catch the sight of your pussy - wet and dripping with slick all over him. You’re clenched onto him so tight that he’s sure he wouldn’t last long in this position, either.

Sanemi decides that your face is where he wants to settle his eyes. He could never get tired of calling you beautiful. Your face contorts with pleasure, mouth panting as you pleasured yourself upon him. Your eyes are fluttering, fighting to remain close or to open.

Lilac eyes meet yours when you do open them. You feel hot with humiliation having Sanemi see you lost in the moment. His fingernails dig into the skin of your hips when he notices your back from your high.

“I love you, Nemi.” you murmur, unsure what in the world you were going through that made you confess such words suddenly. It causes Sanemi to stiffen at the confession. But you don’t notice, far too entranced with pleasure to care. You lean down and kiss his lips.

“Say it again.” Sanemi buckles his hips forward, thrusting into you at an alarming speed.

Sanemi pushes himself forward, wrapping his arms around you to bring you even closer to him. He doesn’t want you to leave his arms - not now. He brings you onto your back, hovering above you. “Say it again.” he repeats, thrusting deeply inside of you.

“I love you, Nemi!” you exclaim. The familiar churning in your stomach is coming back, and with the clenching you’re doing on his cock, you’re positive that you were going to cum once more.

“Again.” Sanemi holds you tighter. He never wants this moment to end - the intimacy the two of you shared at this moment is the most alive he’s ever felt.

“I…I…” you’re cumming, eyes rolling to the back of your head. But Sanemi doesn’t stop, not until he's assured that he came deep inside of you, your words replaying over and over again in his mind.

I love you, Nemi.

I love you.

Sanemi’s cumming, his eyes fluttering close. He places his head at the nape of your neck and he’s pampering kisses. He doesn’t move, not until he’s cum deep and he finds himself softening slowly - for the time being.

“Tanjiro…” you murmured, feeling relief wash over you upon seeing the boy.

Your eyes scanned the room as you did so, finding Uzui with Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio. You take notice that Rengoku’s father is here along with his younger brother, the resemblance is quite uncanny. Zenitsu appears to be in and out of sleep while Nezuko is seated beside her brother. It tugs at your heartstrings noticing that she no longer appeared like her demon self.

“Y/N-san!” Tanjiro's eyes widen at your sudden appearance. “Hello.”

You feel a mountain of eyes upon you - or more so on your stomach. Genya is beside you, watching as a few gasps are heard. “Act like they have never seen a pregnant woman before.” he grumbles and you can only silently giggle.

“I’m glad you all are safe.” you feel teary eyed at your words. You hadn’t gotten the chance to say a proper goodbye to Shinobu or Mitsuri, only your letters. You pondered if they received them before their battle. As you watch Tanjiro lay upon the bed, you’re yet again reminded of the many young lives that suffered…Sumire…Roshi…Muichiro.

“Ah, Y/N!”

Genya is startled by the sudden call of your name behind them. In the doorway is Shinra and he’s panting. He’s covered in bandages from head to toe and even has a limp as he strolls. “Shinra…” he murmurs. “...you did survive.”

“Shinra!” you wanted to engulf him in a hug but stopped yourself. He looked seconds away from dropping. “I’m so glad you’re safe. You must’ve fought hard.”

“A little too hard.” Shinra jokes, chuckling to himself. He then winces, now remembering why he refrained from laughing. Or speaking. Or anything besides breathing.

“Y/N!” Suma is the first of the group to react to you. She runs to you and engulfs you in a tight hug. She’s sobbing as she speaks. “You’re here! You’re pregnant! You have such a lovely glow to you-”

Makio punches Suma in the head, eyes glaring at the girl. “Stop yelling!” she hisses. “You’re going to crush her! Can’t you see she’s fragile?!”

Tengan sighs but he can’t help but smile. It felt whole in a way, almost as if you never left. Suma was right, however. You had the pregnancy glow to you. Your skin appeared to be blemish free and hydrated, your smile reached your eyes and your bump was round and healthy.

“Where is Giyuu-san? I haven’t had the chance to see him.” you say aloud. You want to ask for Sanemi, as well, but you chose not to.

“They should be finishing with the meeting soon.” Tengan strolls towards you. He has a grin on his lips and he gently pats your head. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You, as well, Uzui-san.” you say. You place a hand upon your stomach and hum.

“Hey!”

It’s Inosuke. He’s come from behind Shinra, shoving his way in. Shinra hisses as he’s set to the nearest wall by the boy. Inosuke isn’t wearing his boar mask as he looks at you.

“Inosuke. Hello.” you say, glad to see the young boy seemingly well. “I’m glad to see you’re safe. You are King of the Mountains, after all.”

Uzui scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“You’ve been well, too!” Inosuke’s voice is gruff as he speaks. “Since you’ve gotten fat. You must’ve been eating really well!”

“You imbecile!” Shinra wails, eyes glaring at Inosuke.

Tengan sends a fist upon Inosuke’s head. “She’s not fat, you idiot!”

You’re laughing at the sight. “It’s okay.” you assure them, understanding that Inosuke meant no harm. “He’s probably never seen a pregnant person before.”

Inosuke refrains from attacking Uzui like he wants to. “What’s that?” he asks, his head turning to Tanjiro.

Tanjiro chuckles slightly, a red tint on his face. He always has to explain things to Inosuke in more animalistic terms. “Y/N-san has mated with someone. That’s why her stomach has gotten a little bigger.”

Inosuke hums, eyes turning back to you. He tilts his head with a nod, now understanding.

“Stupid idiotic boar.” Genya hisses.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N.” Hinatsuru waves with a kind smile. “Please come visit us before you leave.”

You nod. “I will. I promise.” you assure. “I’m going to go find Giyuu-san.”

Tengan follows you out. He only allows you to go down the hall before he calls for you. “And what about Shinazugawa?”

Genya turns his head, as do you.

“Are you planning on seeing him, as well? I know he’s been…” Tengan trails his words off, hoping that you’d understand where he was going with this.

“I will be seeing Sanemi, as well.” you nod.

Tengan allows himself to watch you as you walk away, turning out of sight. He inhales once more, this time wishing that the former Wind Hashira would admit the way he feels. Not just for your or his sake, but for the sake of the unborn child.

Giyuu is the first one you find. He’s already walking your way when you happen to see him. “You cut your hair, Giyuu-san!” you say, waving his way.

Giyuu appears to be shocked at your presence before him, but he manages to not have his eyes linger on your obvious pregnant belly. He offers a small grin your way with a nod.

“It’s good to see that you’re alive.” you murmur to him, taking in his appearance. You notice that his right arm has seemingly been lost during battle and again, you feel yourself grow with guilt.

“You, as well.” Giyuu responds. “Congratulations.”

You grow hot and nod your thanks. You allow Giyuu to pass you, Genya furrowing his brows at the man. He was never one to speak much and oftentimes you found yourself talking to him, wondering if he was ever telling you to shut up mentally.

“You think Aniki would be at his estate?”

“I’m not sure.” you murmur. You place a hand onto your stomach, the baby is seemingly moving. “You must be excited.” you say, laughing to yourself.

You’re nervous and that part is obvious. You wanted to see Sanemi, yes. Your heart is full knowing that he managed to survive. You don’t know how you’d react when your eyes meet his for the first time in months - you hope you wouldn't cry.

The journey to Sanemi’s home is rather quick. Maybe you were walking fast to get it over with - pay your respect and leave. You found yourself outside the familiar shoji doors, contemplating if sending a letter was more appropriate then coming up unannounced.

“Go.” Genya speaks. “I’ll stay behind so you can have a level of privacy.”

Genya disappears - the first time since you first saw him days ago. You gulp, hands feeling sweaty.

You lightly tap the shoji doors before sliding them open. The home is quiet and appears the same as when you left months prior. You remove your shoes and continue into the home, heart quickening.

You find yourself holding your breath when you see him. He’s seated on the hardwood floor in the sitting area, in his hands the rhinoceros beetle he claimed as a pet. He’s feeding it some fruit you note, watching intently.

“Sanemi.” your voice is low and barely audible, but Sanemi is alert. His head snaps in the direction of your voice and he noticeably gasps.

Sanemi blinks once, then twice - you were here. You weren’t a fragment of his imagination like he initially thought. Through the months his mind could still hear your voice as if you never left. He was sure he’s gone insane sometimes when he’d awake and swear his ears pick up on you cooking, low hums coming from your lips.

You feel uncomfortable under his intense gaze. You’re considering you coming to see Sanemi was a mistake, unsure if he truly wished to see you.

“I-I’m sorry.” you murmur. You blink away, unsure as to why you were truly apologizing for - maybe for coming unannounced after all these months.

Sanemi places the beetle back into the wooden cage and places it beside him. He lifts himself up onto his feet and makes his way to you. He’s quick, placing both calloused hands on your cheek. His left thumb rubs your cheek gently, enjoying the feeling of getting to touch you after so long. Your eyes catch the bandage wrapped around his right hand and you frown deep. “Your hand…” you murmur, your own softer hands wrapping around the bandage. You notice he’s missing his index and middle finger.

Sanemi doesn’t care about his injuries. He’s far too enthralled that you’re in front of him. He takes a step back, eyes going lower to your stomach.

You swallow, breath hitching. You feel uneasy with his gaze. His face was stoic, unable to read just what his thoughts were. You feel a few kicks from the baby and you’re sure they were just as uneasy at this moment.

“Sanemi?”

You break the silence after around 5 minutes of Sanemi’s staring. His head snaps to you. “You’re pregnant.” he states the obvious.

“Yes.” you nod.

Sanemi is silent once more and again, the silence is killing you. You’re unsure of what he’s feeling - if he was feeling anything at all.

Sanemi glances away from you. His heart is jolting once more, but now with sorrow. He’s lost you for good, he thinks, and now he wants nothing more than for the world to swallow him whole.

“You’ve found a husband?” Sanemi asks but he doesn’t truly want to know. The thought of someone else getting to have you causes his heart to feel sad, sorrow erupting through him. He can never blame you for finding love elsewhere, it’s what you deserved.

“Aniki’s an idiot.” Genya groans. You flinch at the sudden sound of Genya who is standing behind his brother. Your brows furrow at the boy who raises his hands. “I’ll take my leave now.” he states and again, disappears once more.

You take another deep breath and shake your head. “No.” you murmur. “The baby is yours.”

Sanemi was sure he’d have whiplash the way his head snaps back to you. His eyes are wide with realization - how big your stomach was, the child growing in you; his child.

You’re shocked when Sanemi suddenly falls to his knees. His hands are on the ground while his head is hung low. He’s trembling, you note, and you’re confused about what's happening.

“S-Sanemi, I-” Did you anger him? You’re unsure what to do - should you leave?

You got your answer on what Sanemi was doing when your ears pick up on low sobs. You kneel down in front of him, eyes noticing droplets on the hardwood floor. You stand straighter and gulp.

Sanemi was crying.

You’ve never seen Sanemi cry. He was always a strong person, showing little emotion. Others once cower at the sight of him, tip-toeing around him to not anger the man. He was always different around you - smiling, often joking and never lashing out at you.

But crying - Sanemi never cried.

“Nemi…?” you place a hand on top of his hand, fingers gently rubbing the white tresses.

Sanemi lifts himself up to look at you, tears staining his cheeks. He moves fast, arms wrapping around you. His head lays upon your bump and wants to cry even harder when he feels soft kicks.

“Please forgive me, Y/N.” Sanemi’s begging now, His tears don’t stop and he doesn’t let you go. He never wants to, afraid that if he does you’ll leave him once more.

“Nemi,” you murmur. Your heart swells at the sight of him and you want to laugh at the situation. “I’m not upset with you.”

“You should hate me.” Sanemi murmurs, lifting his face from your bump to look at you. “I took advantage of you.” He left you to fend for yourself, pregnant and all. He shouldn’t feel as if it was completely his fault - he had no idea you were pregnant and if he had, he would have never allowed you to leave. However, he cannot help how he feels.

“You didn’t take advantage of me, Nemi.” you play your hand - so soft, Sanemi thinks - against his cheek. “I said I loved you, didn’t I?”

Sanemi’s throat tightens and again - as pathetic he’s sure he looks - he feels himself crying. His heart jolts and for the first time in months, he feels happy. Watching Genya die before his eyes while claiming that he always protected him had shot a hole through his heart. It’s a feeling that would never go away, but having you back before him pregnant with his child was the feeling he needed to feel whole again.

“Thank you.” Sanemi murmurs, arms unwrapping just for his hands to place upon your stomach.

“I didn’t do anything.” you giggle.

Sanemi shakes his head. You’ve done a lot. You weren’t upset with him for how he treated you after the two of you were intimate. You decided to come back from your home, pregnant and not far from giving birth he’s sure. You were a gift he wasn’t sure he deserved - you and his child.

“Stand up.” you tell Sanemi and he does what he’s told. “Stop crying, Nemi. It’s okay.” you offer a smile.

Sanemi’s heart jolts again.

You’re as beautiful as you always were and now you’re glowing.

Sanemi wants to cry yet again.

Sanemi can never keep his hands off of your stomach. He always has to hold it - while the both of you sleep. While you both sat and ate. Any reason he could to hold you bump, he would and you couldn’t be upset about it. He even would place his ear against your stomach - mostly as you slept - to hear the heartbeat of his child and yours. It brought him ease, assuring that the both of you were safe.

Sanemi was more fascinated with the sudden kicks. He recalls many years ago when his mother fell pregnant for the first time with Genya and how intrigued he was at her size - and when he noticed her stomach moving at an alarming rate. Then she fell pregnant again, again and again until his youngest brother was born.

Sanemi was nervous about traveling back to your home and leaving his estate for good. Now that the Demon Slayer Corps was disbanded for good, he had no reason to stay - “only if you want”, was Kiriya’s words. And he was until you had come to him. Now, you had made plans on going home and home meant where your father resided. He had never met your father and truly had no plans to, but by what you have told him, he was not a man Sanemi would like. He wouldn't want you or his child to be disrespected by the likes of him.

You were now 8 months and so close to giving birth that Sanemi often walked on egg shells. He never wanted to leave your sight in case it happened suddenly. Not only that, but he missed the majority of your pregnancy that he didn’t wish to not be at your side for whatever you needed - stomach rubs, random cravings in the middle of the day or night. He would massage you - especially your feet that had since swollen up due to your pregnancy. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible.

You have been spoiled since you returned and couldn’t be more grateful and happier. Tengan has bought a mountain of clothing items for both you and the baby, claiming that it would be the most flamboyant child around - after his own, of course. Suma, Hinatsuru and Makio were always around, dousing you with compliments and gushing over your growing bump.

Inosuke was still curious about your stomach, but understood you weren’t fat. He’d still gift you leaves and other things he could find and become one of your eating buddies, even eating food from your plate. Tanjiro had scolded him but you assure that it was alright.

Shinra was recovering and now could move freely without a mountain of cast and bandages. You were glad the boy survived, truly. He had grown slightly from the frightened little boy of Final Selection. Upon learning that he had no family left to go to, you had offered for him to stay with you - much to Sanemi’s dismay. However, if he didn’t want to admit it, Shinra was much like his own brother. Genya and he were the same age, often having similar outbursts and interests. Plus he couldn’t be upset that you’ve grown an older sibling-like bond to the boy. It was one of the many reasons why he loved you.

“Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you?” Sanemi has a look of confusion on his face as he awaits your answer.

Sanemi thought you were beautiful now more than ever. You were carrying his child, after all, putting your body at risk for him and the child you shared. It makes the man angered at himself for having you think that he wouldn’t find you attractive.

Maybe it was because he hasn’t attempted to touch you - which it isn't like he didn’t want to. He finds himself wanting to be inside you all the time but he stops himself from trying and would rather jack it off in the bathroom. You had just returned and he was sure the last thing you wanted to do was be intimate with him, and so he waited for you to initiate it.

However, then you asked him now as the both of you laid in bed, a calloused hand rubbing your stomach if he found you unattractive due to your appearance.

“I’m kinda fat right now and-”

“Did that boar call you fat, again?” Sanemi hisses, eyes glaring. He wanted to castrate Inosuke when he found out he said it the first time but refrained because of you.

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s how I feel.” you tell him. “You don’t attempt to touch me. I don’t think you find me as attractive as before.”

Sanemi sighs. He wants to laugh because damn, you had no idea how he truly desired to have you. He doesn’t want to hurt you is another reason why he stops himself - the fear of leaving your perfect skin with bruises and marks. That, and if anything happened to his child or you during the act, he would never forgive himself.

“You can sit on my face?” Sanemi offers suddenly, far too excited that you’re gasping.

“No!” you exclaim, growing hot at his sudden words.

“Why not?” Sanemi questions, feeling disappointed.

“I-I’m too big to be sitting on you, Nemi!” you roll your eyes but manage to giggle.

“No you aren’t.” Sanemi assures. “Have you forgotten what I was prior? Have I grown soft?” he’s teasing you not, but he peppers kissing onto your cheek, trailing down to your jaw to your neck. His hand slides up to cup your breast and you find yourself moaning at the sensation.

Sanemi didn’t care about himself and his own pleasure. He found pleasure in your own. You were sensitive, far more than ever. Your breast had grown due to the pregnancy and Sanemi was but a man, diving right into them, rubbing and suckling on the sensitive nipple.

You’re a moaning and gasping mess. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed Sanemi’s hands upon you. It was different from your time with him in Shinjuku, of course. He and you weren’t under a demon art - even though you couldn’t completely blame the mark. Now, however, Sanemi was sane and attentive, purely focusing on worshiping you.

You’re unsure when Sanemi had managed to strip you of your underwear but in a matter of seconds you’re bare to him, a humiliating feeling washing over you when you feel his lips upon your thighs.

“Nemi…”

Sanemi grunts a response, kissing until he finds your wet lips. He quickly pecks them before his tongue lapse between your folds. He keeps you in a firm hold as you’re squirming. He doesn’t hold back in pleasuring you, enjoying the sounds of your sweet moans.

Sanemi’s tongue is flat as he bobs his head back and forth, determined to make you cum. Once he realizes you’ve begun to relax in his hold, his left hand add’s two fingers inside of you and pumps.

Your back arches, a slew of moans, grunts and gasps releasing from your lips. Your walls clench around his fingers, thighs trembling at the pleasure. You weren’t aware how much you truly missed Sanemi, even outside of intimacy. You were only intimate with him one time (for hours on end) and even then, waking up alone without his warmth felt lonely. Now you can wake up to him besides you, hand onto your stomach. It felt nice - almost as if you never left to begin with.

Sanemi’s fingers curl inside of you, pumping a little faster. He muffles against your clit when he feels your hands in his hair. His pants were feeling tight, cock twitching.

You begin to grind against his tongue and Sanemi encourages it. He removes his fingers from inside of you to now grip your thighs to give you more access to do so.

“Please, Nemi…” you groan, licking your lips. You were now clenching around nothing. “...I need you.”

Sanemi lifts from between your legs, licking your sweet slick from his lips. He looks at your face to find you already looking at him through hooded eyes.

Sanemi could never deny you - not now especially. He knows what you want and he’s quick to undress himself. He’s hesitant slightly, not wanting to ever harm you. He lays beside you and offers a quick peck onto your cheek before gently pushing you onto your side. He wanted you to be comfortable.

Sanemi lifts your leg, making sure he held it up for you so you didn’t have to. He centers himself at your entrance and shudders, the familiar warmth and wetness brings back the memories of when he first had you.

You’re clamping around Sanemi as he enters you slowly. His breath tickles your neck where he’s kissing lovingly. Sanemi’s slow with his thrusts, but it feels good nonetheless. He never knew sex could be just as amazing when he wasn’t being rough, but he noted that it was better because it was with someone he loved.

“It’s okay to go faster.” you moan. Your hand wraps around his wrist for comfort. “You won’t be hurting me.”

Sanemi grunts. He does what you ask, picking up his pace only slightly. Your juices are coating his cock, pussy clenching so heavenly around him that he catches himself fluttering his eyes closed. He inhales your familiar scent - the same scent that has since plagued his home. His heart no longer feels lonely, yearning for a lost love.

“I love you.” Sanemi murmurs, the confession causing his cheeks to flush red. He hasn’t told you explicitly like this before, only while you slept your exhaustion off in Shinjuku. His hand allows your leg to drop, sliding up your thigh to your stomach. “Thank you.” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

Sanemi was going to come and you know this. You wanted to ask what in the world he was thanking you for, but you had a clue. Random times Sanemi would thank you - “thank you for coming back to me”, “ thank you for carrying my child”, “thank you for loving me”.

Sanemi’s confession to loving you, however, was what made you cum and your words repeating his own was what made him.

A rare sight to see truly - Shinazugawa Sanemi was crying. Weeping at the sight of his child, cheeks flushed and puffy. The girls of the butterfly mansion were the first to be dumbfounded by the sight, gasping at the tall, scarred man with bulging muscles. The same man who would slam the door open and demanded to be treated, uncaring if they were busy or not. Now this same man held such a small infant in his arms, so close to his chest afraid to let go.

You were brought into the Butterfly Mansion by Shinra one evening while Sanemi had been out gathering the food you were craving. You were stunned when not ten minutes later your water had broken and Shinra was a nervous wreck, eyes wide and looked as though he was nearly about to cry. He was then instructed to go get Sanemi while Aoi set you up on the birthing futon, the three small girls whose names he had not learned were gathering towels, water and other supplies for the birthing process.

Sanemi was by your side no later than five minutes, having thrown the food in Shinra’s arms and dashed away, a gush of in his trail. It was truly a sight to see - Sanemi so caring and loving, holding onto you while murmuring how amazing you were doing. He allowed you to hold his hand and squeeze the life out of it - whatever it took for you to deliver the child safely.

The first sounds of cries cause a wave of relief over Sanemi, you crashing against him in exhaustion. He recalls kissing your head, the sounds of his child louds wails are an accomplishment of what you brought into this world.

“It’s a boy!” Naho, Sumi and Kiyo say in unison and Aoi only smiles towards the wide-eyed former Hashira. She had placed the baby in your arms, innocent eyes looking around curiously but not focusing on anything.

It wasn’t far when the small room was full, Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma low cooing at the sight of the baby. Shinra has a soft smile on his lips, paying his own visit while Tengan is beside Sanemi, who’s eyes had not left his son or you.

“How does it feel?” Tengan asks Sanemi, who blinks but doesn’t take his eyes from you.

“Surreal.” Sanemi responds.

Sanemi felt happy for once. Was it selfish to say this was the happiest he felt in years? He was happy when you came back into his life and brought a new meaning into it. He can even say he felt happy when he learned that they had won the battle against Muzan, even if in the moment he wished he would have died alongside his brother.

However, there was no happiness that could replace the one he felt at the sight of his child; his son. There was like a new light that overcame him as he watched you nurse his child or hold him close with such love. It’s insane to think that you were the reason that he felt happy once more - he was once content on dying knowing that he would possibly never have a family. Now, he cannot imagine his life without the little family you have given him.

“I don’t think Y/N-san can see us anymore.” Teiko says, a little sadness laced into her voice. “Another boy in the family.”

“Yes.” Sumi murmurs. “At least he’s cute!”

Genya places both hands upon his sisters shoulders. He has a soft smile on his lips, eyes watching his elder brother and how content he appeared. He then looks towards you and the baby - his nephew. “Aniki is happy again.” he says, more to himself than his sisters.

Sanemi had kneeled down besides you, his index finger lightly stroking his son's cheek.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Genya says, understanding fully that you could no longer see nor hear him. Teiko and Sumi have now disappeared and he finds himself fading, as well.

#sanemi smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #sanemi x reader #genya shinazugawa #genya x platonic reader #phantasm #sanemi-whore #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #afab reader #cruel world #all night #sanemi angst #sanemi fluff #kny angst #kny fluff #kny smut

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dark-and-kawaii · 3 months

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Chaos

Raphael & His Daughter

⋆˙⟡♡ Sunmary: Raphael’s daughter causes chaos through the house, much to Raphael’s dismay.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: This is a little gift for a very lovely person, @octarinecat xoxo I hope this puts a smile on your face love and that you feel better ♡

⋆˙⟡♡ Dadphael

Prt 1. - Prt 2. - Impsy

His daughter, the heart of the house, darted through the grand halls with Impsy at her heels. As they played their little game, she collided with one of her father’s prized golden statues, a self portrait, no less.

The statue wobbled perilously before succumbing to gravity, setting off a catastrophic cascade of falling pedestals and statues, each one toppling into the next with the precision of a rehearsed performance…

Frozen in the midst of the chaos, his daughter could only muster a, "uh oh..."

Impsy quipped, "Nice knowing ya, kid. There's not enough of your mother in you to sweet talk your way out of this one..."

The ominous silence that followed was broken by the heavy footsteps of Raphael emerging from his boudoir. His eyes swept over the scene of destruction, the line of his fallen statues a testament to the chaos that had unfolded in his absence. His gaze landed on the two culprits.

With a silent accusation, she slowly extended a finger toward Impsy.

"I know you aren't pointing that little thing at me, girl."

Raphael's presence loomed over them, his composure a thin veneer over the rising tide of his displeasure. "Chaos in this house is not something I will abide, even if caused by you," his voice controlled but edged with anger.

Impsy, undeterred by the gravity of the situation, tried to interject. "Oh come now, Raph, can't you see? She did you a favor, the things were gaudy!"

Raphael's eyes narrowed, and without raising his voice, he uttered a single, resonant word, "Enough." With a snap of his fingers, Impsy vanished, banished from the scene.

Turning back to his daughter, Raphael's scowl deepened. "I've given you free will when running through this house, yet you still wish to act like a little tyrant? Your actions have consequences, and it is high time you learn what that means." The disappointment in his voice was perhaps more cutting than any punishment he could devise.

As the echoes of Raphael's condemnation faded, the silence held a weight of its own. His daughter, his little treasure, felt a pang of guilt heavier than any of the golden statues that lay in ruin around her. Her eyes, so often aglow with joy, now shimmered with the sheen of unshed tears.

"Father, I..." her voice was a mere whisper, a stark contrast to the earlier clatter of her play. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Raphael's features softened marginally as he took in the sight of his daughter's remorse. The anger that had been so near the surface was now slowly fading with her genuine regret. He knelt down to her level, the ruler of the house not too proud to meet his child eye to eye.

"Actions, my child, come with consequences," he started, his voice gentler now. "But the intention behind the action also matters. You did not mean to cause this damage, and that, at least, is a start."

He sighed, surveying the disarray before him. He often wonders if the pursuit of legacy through an heir is worth the sacrifice of peace and quiet. But then…

She wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight embrace, her small form seeking forgiveness in the only way she knew how.

Raphael felt the tension leave his body as he returned the embrace. This little child of his, though chaotic at times, was nothing but loyal to him.

And in that embrace, he found his answer.

His little treasure, his daughter… When the time came, she would help him rule well. Raphael realized that, despite the toppled statues and the occasional chaos, having an heir, having her as a loyal heir was indeed worth his time.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #dadphael #raphael x reader #raphael x tav

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g1rlr0b1n · 1 month

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Yet another commission by the amazingly talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!! 🦉

Into the Owl's Nest (Preview)

Damian's eyes snapped open and he jolted up in bed, gasping for air as if he had been drowning. His skin was clammy and his heart raced in his chest. As his senses returned, the cold, musty scent of damp stone and earth filled his nostrils. He strained to see in the darkness, but could only make out the faint outline of a room surrounding him. The distant sound of rushing water echoed through the space, causing a shiver to run down his spine. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Damian realized that he must be deep underground, and he realized where he must be. This was the Owl’s Nest.

The faint clicking of heels echoed on the stone ground, growing closer with each step. He strained his eyes against the darkness as he searched for an escape. Too late. The door creaked open and a woman glided in, her form encased in a skin-tight nylon suit, feathers adorned the top of her cape. Her blonde hair was pulled back tightly, emphasizing her fierce features, while a mask obscured her eyes. Damian maintained a stoic expression as she spoke, her words dripping with disdain, "so, you must be Talia's brat," she spat. Her eyes roamed over his form, obscured by the mask she wore. The coldness in her voice matched the chill in the air, sending shivers down his spine. Her eyes narrowed behind the intricate mask, scanning him from head to toe with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. The silence between them was thick with tension but Damian maintained his composure.

When he did not speak she continued, “your father wishes to see you.” Damian's muscles tensed at the mention of his father but he remained still, not daring to give her any satisfaction. Not even when she glided across the room, her movements fluid like a predator stalking its prey did he move to get up from the bed. With a swift motion, she pulled him up by his arm, her long nails digging into his flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain, knowing better than to show weakness. She dragged him along, her grip unrelenting, until they reached a large open space. A wall was lined with computers and equipment, and there, behind the glow of computer screens, sat a man clad in all back. The Owlman.

The man slowly turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "I hope you don't mind," he began in a smooth, almost mocking tone, "your mother and I decided it would be best if I took custody of you." Damian felt a surge of anger rise up in the pit of his stomach, a rage that was only met by the man's cruel smile.

"You killed my mother," Damian growled through gritted teeth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I suppose that’s true,” he shrugged carelessly, “it pained me to do so, I loved her-”

"Obsession is not love," Damian spat out bitterly, his control slipping as memories from last night flooded back. "That's not love...and when you couldn't have her..." His voice trailed off, trembling, as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Damian had loved his mother more than anything, and this man had taken her away from him without a second thought.

The man's eyes hardened and for a moment, Damian could see the darkness lurking behind them, "let it be a lesson to you then," he sneered. "You may share my blood, but if I have no use for you, you can join her."

Damian was smart enough to know when someone was bluffing, and this man was not, he was well aware that this man would snuff him out the moment he stepped out of line. Refusing to show any weakness, Damian stood tall and pushed aside his emotions. "What use do you have for me then, father?" he asked, maintaining a calm and collected façade despite the turmoil within.

His features twisted into a smirk, “I’m glad you asked,” he stood from his chair to tower over the boy, “As you may or may not be aware, Ultraman was our esteemed leader until his most recent and unfortunate demise. His twisted obsession with his other selves was finally his downfall. Ironic.” The glint of joy in his eyes betrayed his words. “There are a few would be successors but of course I have my preference.”

Owlman paused as if waiting for Damian to ask a question but Damian knew there was only an answer he sought. And Damian was nothing, if not adaptable. “Naturally, it should be you, father," he replied smoothly. He’d play along for now, he’d tell the crazed man whatever assurances he needed to hear. Afterall, he was somewhere underground surrounded by enemies, and if he hoped for any chance of survival, he’d have to be smart about it.

“Smart boy,” he scoffed, then continued, “Ultraman leaves behind his wife and son, Lois has already begun pushing for Jor-El to claim his father’s seat but he is just a child. Barely 19. He needs…” he paused again as if searching for the right words, “a friend more than a title.”

Damian raised an eyebrow in question, “you wish me to befriend him?”

“Sure…and who knows what may happen once you two become close.” Owlman shrugged, a wicked smirk spread across his features, contorting them into a menacing expression.

Damian racked his brain for meaning. Did his father want him close to Jor-El to distract him, to manipulate him, or to kill him? Did his father even care as long as he could take power? Finally, Damian broke the silence with a slow, measured voice. “I can only assume you have some means for me to arrange a meeting with him?”

“Of course,” he motioned toward the blonde woman who had been lurking in the corner. “Beth, please ensure that Damian is presentable for this evening's introduction to the rest of the Syndicate. Make him look…enticing.”

Damian suddenly became aware of another possibility.

#posting the intro to one of my current WIPs to act as a motivator to help me finish #this is part of a multiverse series I'm working on #Earth 3 #Damian is Talon II (21)#Jon is Ultraman II (19)#Thomas Jr/Owlman is technically Bruce (not sure if that makes sense to anyone but me lol)#I disregard canon lol #damian wayne #jon kent #damijon #jondami #superdemon #cosmicbird #dc comics

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 11 months

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1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by me :) pls give cred if used DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: After Aegon experienced a near death experience under the lack of supervision of Daemon, a heated convo between Leyla and him soon follows.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Stop that Baelon,” Daemon warned the young boy but still, he continues to bang his toy against the wall, creating a loud noise. Daemon was in Leyla’s solar, all three kids there with him and 2 handmaidens with the children.

The banging noise still continued as Daemon became more agitated. “I said stop it Baelon!” He yelled, slamming his hand on the table making all the kids flinch and stare at their father with wide eyes. The handmaidens too were surprised at Daemon’s loudness, especially because he rarely ever yelled at the children.

“Listen to what I tell you the first time,” He snaps as Baelon looks down, Alyssa sitting beside him rubs his shoulder in comfort. Daemon sighs, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t mean to yell at his son. His head was swarming with thoughts. Thoughts about how it was his fault that Aegon was so close to being seriously injured, or worst dead.

Leyla wasn’t feeling well in the morning so Daemon too responsibility of looking after the children during breakfast. It wasn’t hard to do and yet he still managed to fuck it up by not paying attention to Aegon who crawled his way to the descending stairs. Thank the gods Alicent was walking past and saw the young boy one step away from falling.

A knock comes from the double doors, “Come in,” Daemon calls out. It was one of Leyla’s handmaidens. “Lady Leyla wishes to see you, my Prince,” She bows before leaving. Daemon stared at the empty space where the handmaiden once stood.

He lets out a breath before standing up and walking over to where Alyssa, Baelon and Aegon sat playing with their toys. “Behave please,” He says before kissing each of their foreheads and ruffling Baelon’s hair.

Daemon knew that Leyla was beyond mad. He didn’t blame her, after all, it was his fault for not paying attention and letting Aegon come to a near death experience. Walking the familiar route to the nursery, he walked into the room without knocking.

He shut the door behind him before looking at Leyla. Their newborn, Alys, in her arms, crying. He watched as she rocked her to soothe her down. Her back facing Daemon.

“What were you thinking?” She spat, her face red. Daemon couldn’t find it in himself to say anything, so instead, he only kept his gaze to the floor. Angered at the lack of response, Leyla brings her hand up and slaps Daemon’s face, her hand tingling.

Daemon rolls his tongue against his cheek before meeting eyes with his wife. “It was a simple mistake-“ “A simple mistake?” She scoffed, “The handmaidens should have been keeping an eye on him as-“ “Do not blame the handmaidens for your mistake Daemon. I trusted you with looking after the children! How can I do that know when Aegon nearly fell down the stairs and could have died. All because of what? Rhaenyra was it?” She fumed, Leyla’s eyesight were blurred by the tears that formed in her eyes.

It pained her that her son was near close to death, thank god Alicent quickly took Aegon before he took another step. It pained her even more that Daemon was there and did not pay attention to their child.

She was told by her handmaidens that Rhaenyra had arrived, he carelessly went to greet her whilst leaving Aegon one step away from the steps that descended. “Thank the Gods that my sister was walking past,” She muttered, shaking her head.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to Aegon, or to any of our children for that matter” Daemon quietly spoke as Leyla looked at him. “Neither would I, Husband,” She said through gritted teeth as Daemon looked at Leyla. “If you didn’t go and greet Rhaenyra, none of this would have happened in the first place!” She shouted, frustrated at her husband.

“Like I said, it was a mistake Leyla!” Daemon groaned, pulling at his hair as he starts to pace around the nursery. “A mistake that could have cost us our child!” She fired back, this time, hot tears had managed to cascade down her rosy cheeks. “I know, I know, hey- listen to me Leyla,” Daemon takes ahold of Leyla’s face.

“I am so fucking sorry. And I love you, so so much, and our beautiful children,” He softly says, his forehead against hers as he looks down at Alys before making eye contact with Leyla. “You can’t just push your children aside when Rhaenyra appears, Daemon.” He moves away from him and to the crib to lay Alys down.

“I know you haven’t seen her in some time, but do not forget your children whenever she’s there,” She bites her lips softly, looking down at Alys who’s looking right up at her. “I know that and I am so sorry,” He engulfs her in a hug from behind, his arms protectively wrapping themselves around her small figure.

Leyla lets out a sigh before caving in and leaning her head against Daemon’s chest.

taglist

@writtingforfun @bellstwd @sesamepancakes @bunbunbl0gs @ajthefujoshi @mxtokko @xcinnamonmalfoyx

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wildandsmile · 4 months

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࿇ ✥ ࿇ Worlds Apart ࿇ ✥ ࿇

Summary: Your father serves as the coach for the Manshine football/soccer team, and in your role as the dutiful daughter, you make a point to visit him regularly. However, each time you stop by, one of the star players seems to have a penchant for flirting with you.

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Age gap (Reo 22 and Readers 29) by the way cannon Reo likes older women so.

Kinks: Fingering, Degrading, Cream-pie, Praising, Sir Name, Squirting, Exhibition, Sub Reader, Dom Reo, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), humiliation, Choking and Rough sex.

Enjoy!

A couple of years had passed since Reo's departure from Blue Lock. His journey took him to the semi-finals, where he was eventually eliminated by Bachira. However, Ego recognized the immense talent Reo possessed and believed it shouldn't be squandered. As a result, he allowed Reo to continue pursuing his striking career. Shortly thereafter, your father, a renowned co-coach in England, teamed up with Chris Prince. They wasted no time in recruiting Reo, having already witnessed his potential while he was a starter for their team, Manshine City, during his time at Blue Lock.

And thus, you encounter the ostentatious wealthy young man who always seems to have a girl by his side. Each day, you would pay a visit to your father, given his advancing age, ensuring his well-being. However, occasionally, you extended your stay to assist the boys with their routines or offer them water after their practice games.

Whenever you approached Reo, though, he would indulge in playful flirting, charmingly remarking, "I'll treat you good if you give me the opportunity." This, understandably, ignited your father's anger, prompting him to punish Reo with rounds of field laps, much to the amusement of onlookers.

"Hey, dad, how has your day been?" you inquire, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. He turns toward you, a broad smile gracing his lips, and replies, "I've had a good day, dear. By the way, I know you just arrived, but could you fetch some water for the boys?" You offer a swift nod before making your way to the supply room, retrieving the water jug, and returning just in the nick of time.

"Once again, you grace us with your presence, princess," he remarks, deftly taking the cup of water from your hand and punctuating the gesture with a subtle wink. You roll your eyes and swiftly retort, "You're well aware I'm here for my dad, Reo." Yet, true to form, it's as if every word you utter that he doesn't wish to acknowledge simply passes through one ear and exits the other. "We both understand that it's just a self-assurance you cling to, convincing yourself it's all about watching me play, princess," he asserts, using his shirt to mop away perspiration and inadvertently unveiling his well-defined six-pack in the process. In exasperation, you throw your hands up and walk away, prompting Reo to trail closely in your wake.

"And what's your desire now, Reo?" you inquire, quickening your pace in an attempt to create distance between yourself and the purple-haired man. As anticipated, he manages to intercept by firmly grasping your wrist. "Well, give me a moment," Reo pleads with puppy-dog eyes, managing to melt your resistance just a tad. Succumbing to his persistence, you let out a hurried yet slightly curt, "What is it, Reo?" He disregards your brusqueness and proceeds, "I just wanted to extend an invitation to you for the upcoming victory celebration our team plans to host." With that, you come to a complete halt, pivoting to face Reo, your arms crossed and an eyebrow skeptically raised.

"You're talking as though victory is already in the bag," you retort with a sassy undertone, the effect of which sends a subtle shiver down Reo's spine, unbeknownst to you. He relishes witnessing your pouty demeanor, the way you appear and speak when you're irritated entices him even more. Yet, he finds himself engaged in this playful cat-and-mouse dynamic and is content to indulge it for a little while longer.

"Oh, come now, you don't truly believe we're destined to lose, do you, princess?" he chimes in, grasping your hand and gently massaging your knuckles. Eager to respond, you start, "Well, I don't think your team will..." Your sentence is abruptly truncated as Reo claps his hands together, interjecting, "Well then, if that's the sentiment, I'm eagerly anticipating your presence at the party." You're about to interject and voice your hesitation, but before you can, he departs, leaving you alone with your contemplations.

Before long, the anticipated game day arrives. Just as you had predicted, Reo and his team effortlessly overpower the opposing side, amassing such a significant lead that the match concludes ahead of schedule. As the dust settles, your father rushes onto the field, orchestrating a heartfelt group embrace with the team. Glancing towards them, a grin stretches across your face as their jubilant cheers and chants fill the air.

As the post-game festivities wind down, your attention shifts to Reo, who approaches with an infectious grin. You're well aware that his next words are bound to carry a hint of arrogance. "You see, princess, I told you victory was ours," he declares, his face beaded with sweat. You couldn't deny the charm in his triumphant expression, but you're determined not to inflate his already sizable ego. Nonchalantly, you retort, "Indeed, you did make that prediction," your tone carrying a playful undertone that downplays your enthusiasm for their impressive win.

"Since victory is ours, it seems only fitting that you accompany me to the after-party," Reo proposes, leaning against the fence and casting you pleading puppy-dog eyes. In response, you playfully place a finger on his lips, your expression softening into an adorable aw-struck gaze. "Um, no," you reply, relishing the playful moment. Ignoring your refusal, Reo persists, now puffing his lips in a childlike pout, his puppy-dog eyes unwavering. The charming standoff continues until your resolve finally crumbles.

"Alright, alright, I'll go, but on one condition: you must score 10 goals in your next match," you challenge. As your words sink in, you witness a transformation in Reo. His eyes widen with a newfound determination, as if flames of passion burn within him. "Really?" he exclaims, a smile that illuminates your very soul gracing his lips. Affirming your wager with a subtle nod, Reo bolts over to your father, urgently requesting gym access to train late into the night. Observing his earnest efforts for your attention, you can't help but find his determination endearing, knowing that you hold the power to grant him his desire.

True to form, like a well-oiled machine, the much-anticipated match unfolded according to schedule. Recognizing the gravity of the occasion, you chose to sit beside your father and Chris Prince, demonstrating unwavering team spirit. The boys poured their hearts into the game, and everything was proceeding splendidly. However, when your gaze fixed on Reo as he maneuvered down the opposite side of the field to wrest control of the ball from the opposing team, you couldn't resist turning to your father with a question.

"Dad, how many goals has Reo scored so far?" Despite the initial reproachful glance, your father set aside his reservations and provided the answer. "He's netted 9 so far," he informed you. Upon hearing those words, your heart sank momentarily as your attention remained fixed on Reo, who was advancing toward the rival goal. While you harbored a certainty that he would successfully score that goal, a flicker of hope kindled within you—a hope that he might not, considering their substantial lead. After all, the opposing team was already significantly behind, making a single goal seem inconsequential.

Your hopes were nearly extinguished when you witnessed Reo clinch the game's final goal, marking his remarkable 10th score. As the team rallied around him, playfully tousling his violet hair and lifting him into the air in jubilation, your fleeting optimism faded. However, your spirits were soon lifted when the entire group approached you and your father. They expressed their gratitude to him for his unwavering training efforts and extended their appreciation to you for ensuring his availability to guide them.

A comforting warmth enveloped you, as you realized the tangible impact of your involvement in the team's journey. Sharing a sincere smile and offering a gracious acknowledgment, you watched as they headed towards the locker room. Yet, a moment before they disappeared, Reo silently mouthed, "Wait for me." Though fully aware of his intentions, you remained seated, patiently awaiting his return. After approximately half an hour, Reo emerged once again. With an exuberant grin, he sprinted towards you, sweeping you up into his arms. Beaming at you, he exclaimed, "Did you catch my performance out there, princess? Wasn't I utterly astonishing?"

"Absolutely, Reo," you reply, struggling to stifle your laughter, feeling as though you're witnessing a child eagerly showing off a newfound skill to their mother. However, the lighthearted moment is swiftly replaced when the purple-haired young man inquires, "So, are you still planning on attending the party tonight?" You hesitate for a brief moment, then tap his chest gently as a signal for him to put you down.

He responds accordingly, lowering you to the ground. As he sets you down, his facial expression undergoes a shift, prompting you to offer your explanation. "Well, Reo, I was actually thinking I might not—" But before you can finish your sentence, Reo interjects assertively, "There's no backing out now, princess. We made our little wager, and I won fair and square. I'll see you at 8, okay?" You attempt to voice your thoughts, but before you can formulate a complete response, he's already striding away, the distance between you growing too great to carry on the conversation.

With determination, you headed home, fully aware that escaping the party was out of the question. Once inside, you ventured into the depths of your closet, selecting a variety of outfits. However, after an hour of fruitless searching, you resorted to FaceTiming your best friend for outfit advice. After a barrage of reactions ranging from outright rejections to tentative approvals, the two of you finally settled on a chic velvet two-piece ensemble.

Following your decision, you dedicated time to meticulously curling your hair, and then you settled in front of your mirror to carefully apply your makeup. Just as you were about to apply the finishing touch of lip gloss to complete the look, a knock echoed through your door. Swiftly, you hurried over, deftly applying the lip gloss in the process. Unsurprisingly, upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of Reo, elegantly clad in a black suit. His coat was artfully left open, revealing a crisp white button-up shirt that wasn't fully buttoned, offering a tantalizing glimpse of his bare chest.

Raising your hand in a gesture for Reo to wait by the door, you notice his understanding nod before you hurry back to your room. With swift precision, you retrieve your wallet, select a pair of shoes, and gather some safety essentials. Returning downstairs, you subtly showcase your outfit to Reo, a sly hint that you're dressing up for the occasion, although you'd never admit to it. Your actions are a playful payback for the teasing he's subjected you to. As you reach for the door to lock it, you cast a wink his way, a subtle acknowledgment of your little game.

Soon enough, you find yourself seated in Reo's car, gazing at the city lights as they blur by. The enchanting view momentarily captures your attention, until Reo's hand gently rests on your thigh, drawing you back to reality. In response, you subtly adjust your leg, granting him slightly more access to your thigh. However, as his touch ventures further, radiating warmth, you swiftly slap his hand away, a playful yet assertive reminder of your boundaries.

"You're quite the teasing expert, princess," Reo remarks, his hand resuming its place on the gearstick. The journey leads you to an upscale club adorned with Manshine Clubhouse signage.

Gazing at the vibrant-haired man, a perplexed expression crosses your face, prompting him to explain. "One of the guys saved up and invested a bunch of money into this place. With renovations and some significant investments, we ended up with the Manshine Clubhouse."

A nod from you acknowledges his preemptive response to an unspoken question—a characteristic of Reo that you appreciate. His uncanny ability to anticipate your thoughts and provide answers creates a unique connection between the two of you.

Lost in your thoughts, you're snapped back to reality as your date playfully tugs you into the club. The sights and sounds of dancing people envelop you, allowing you to soak in the atmosphere. Just as you're considering asking Reo to dance, a group of girls materializes, engulfing you in the crowd and temporarily interrupting your plans.

Understanding that trying to rejoin Reo might be a futile endeavor, you venture deeper into the club. Your eyes lock onto Nagi's girlfriend amidst the crowd, her presence providing a semblance of comfort. Approaching her, you engage in a casual conversation, quickly establishing a rapport. As the conversation flows, you summon the courage to broach the topic of hitting the dance floor.

To your surprise, she readily agrees, and you both kick things off by sharing a shot before immersing yourselves in the dance floor frenzy. The music resonates, the ambiance is electric, and the night seems to come alive. Amidst the pulsating beats, you relish in the carefree joy of letting loose and having fun.

As the hours roll on, fatigue begins to take a toll on your legs, prompting you to express your need to take a break to your newfound companion. With the music blasting at full tilt, you manage to convey your intention to sit down, though you suspect she only caught the "sit" part, given the deafening noise.

You locate a comfortable seat and ease yourself into it, initially basking in the ambiance of the club. However, your tranquility is shattered by an onslaught of giggles from across the room. Turning your gaze, a disconcerting sight meets your eyes: Reo flanked by two girls, perched on his lap, their hands eagerly exploring his body. It's as though they're vying for his attention, throwing themselves at him shamelessly.

Strangely, an unfamiliar pang of irritation courses through you, fueled by the undeniable urge to be the one occupying that seat, engaging in those affectionate gestures, sharing kisses, and reveling in the private jokes that elicit his radiant smile. You can't deny the surge of happiness his expressions bring, yet beneath it lies a growing anger.

Watching him interact with those girls, his touch tracing their contours, as if he's committing their forms to memory, ignites a fire within you. As you observe, your frustration simmers. The disparity between your worlds becomes glaringly apparent. Reo embodies intelligence, affluence, and popularity, while you're simply a down-to-earth individual with a deep connection to your father. Doubts swirl in your mind, wondering if his professions of love are genuine or if he merely desires to toy with your affections.

However, the last straw snaps as you glance up at Reo and the girls once more. His gaze locks onto yours, as if penetrating the depths of your soul. In that moment, his lips move in a silent confession, "This could be you," just as one of the girls plants a deliberate kiss on his neck. Fueled by a surge of frustration, you seize your resolve, grabbing your belongings and marching to the exit. Dialing a ride, you step outside, the biting wind cutting through you, offering no reprieve from your emotions.

Your attention is drawn back when Reo emerges from the building, his eyes finding you amidst the darkness. With purpose, he strides toward you. "Why are you leaving, princess?" he queries, his expression a mix of bewilderment and something more sinister. It's as if he's an enigmatic force, fully aware that his actions are the driving force behind your departure, a realization that only fans the flames of his ego.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you respond, your words carrying an edge of bitterness. "I've had my fill of enjoyment for the night, and my feet are aching. But what about you? Aren't there two eager girls waiting for your attention?" The words drip with venom, a testament to your simmering anger.

"Well, well, well, seems you had your eyes on me, huh, princess?" Reo quips, a smug grin playing across his face. "And what if I was?" you retort, meeting his gaze with a hint of disdain, your gaze never faltering as you hold his gaze.

Unrelenting, Reo chooses to keep prodding, his determination evident. "Well, why didn't you come and join?" he challenges, further stoking the flames. It's in that moment that your attention zeroes in on the telltale lipstick marks adorning Reo's neck. As you count each visible kiss mark, a surge of anger courses through you, intensifying with each passing moment.

The mounting frustration propels you into motion, compelling you to walk away in a bid to regain your composure. Yet, as anticipated, Reo remains in pursuit, his words like arrows aimed at your vulnerabilities. "Aw, come on, princess, don't tell me a tinge of jealousy is creeping in," he goads, his words deliberately provocative. Ignoring him, you maintain your brisk pace, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his jabs.

However, Reo's provocations continue undeterred. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're developing feelings for me or something," he jests, a knowing glint in his eyes. Suddenly, his grip tightens around your arm, halting your movement despite your efforts to pull away. Struggling against his unyielding grasp, you attempt to break free, but his hold remains resolute, overpowering your struggles.

"Your silence speaks volumes, confirming my suspicion," Reo assets, stepping directly in your path. His words hit home, as they reveal a truth you've kept hidden—the fact that you've fallen for this self-assured, albeit aggravating, individual. You refuse to grant him the satisfaction of admitting your feelings, at least not yet.

Determined to evade his scrutiny, you avert your gaze, ensuring your expression remains concealed. However, your attempt is short-lived, as his hand lands on your cheek, compelling you to meet his gaze. "Oh, no, princess. You won't escape by turning away. You owe me an answer, a genuine one," Reo insists, his grip firm as he holds your gaze captive. He demands a direct response, his eyes betraying a swirling mix of emotions, the complexity of which you can't quite decipher.

Despite his persistence, you maintain your silence, unwilling to let your emotions become an open book. This stance, however, is beginning to test Reo's patience. He's accustomed to bending situations to his will, and the prolonged cat-and-mouse game is chipping away at his composure, gradually igniting a spark of frustration within him.“Well princess since you don’t want to answer me I guess I’ll just have to fuck the answer out of you and with that Reo drags you to a near by alley way.

Reo's lips curled into a seductive grin as his fingers danced along the contours of your quivering abdomen, tantalizingly inching closer to the delicate fabric that barely concealed your enticing curves. He eagerly tugged it lower, craving the sensation of his hand slipping beneath the soft velvet fabric. Your breath hitched as his fingers grazed your tantalizingly bare thighs, inching dangerously close to your aching core.

You gasped with anticipation as he boldly slid his hand beneath your delicate fabric, his fingertips caressing the slick contours of your aroused core. His head inched nearer to yours, his lips tantalizingly grazing against your earlobe, causing a delicious shiver to course through your body. The warmth of his breath, coupled with his intoxicating scent, enveloped you entirely, leaving you utterly captivated.

What do you mean, "don't want to turn you into a dumb slut just yet, princess?" He poked his finger inside your sticky cunt and laughed as he felt the tight grip of your walls on his finger.

You muttered, "Fuck," knowing that keeping your mouth shut was going to be difficult, but you were so attracted to him that you didn't want the moment to end. You were in dire need of him. You closed your eyes and murmured, "Fuck, Reo," once again.

When he started pushing it in and out of you, your breath got erratic and you started making low whimpers and groans. When Reo inserted his middle finger and sped up her speed, you tossed your head back in an instant because you wanted to hear more of the wonderful noises you made exclusively for him. And he was not the least bit dissatisfied. Once he got to the part that always made you roll your eyes back in your head, you started muttering her name under your breath.

“You’re making such a pretty mess princess , look at you” he spoke in a lower tone. The combination of his voice that sent shivers down your spine and the movements of skilled fingers caused a familiar knot to form in your stomach.

I enjoy how you stretch between my fingers. You take me so well," he gushed, his other hand raising your skirt fabric again for a better look at your cunt. He noticed that your secretions were soaking through his palm and pooling at your feet as they dropped from your thighs. He let out a whistle at the site, unable to contain his amusement.

You could hardly believe how drenched you were for him as you lowered your gaze to the spot where he met your body and moaned in horror. You knew Reo turned you on so badly, but witnessing your body respond to his touch was something else entirely.

The only sounds you made in the alley were the wet noises coming from your cunt as his big, thick fingers stretched it out. It was almost embarrassing how effortlessly his fingers slid into your cunt. And you would feel shame for it if you weren't being fucked out by him, but you didn't give a damn.

“I'm- I'm so close! Don't stop, please” you say to him as your nails dug into his shoulder blades and your eyes shut closed.

Reo whispered in your ear, "Cum for me, princess," as you finally sought your high, mouth agape and eyes closed. He didn't cease his moves on your body until you virtually begged him to stop, despite the fact that you were on the verge of passing out from the exertion.

Then, you squirt all over his hands and watch as he proudly watches your messed-up condition while pulling out his fingers and bringing them to his lips to suck them clean. You were too worn out to speak, so your face was red, your eyes were shiny, and your lips were bitten. Your dress was now only just covering your upper body, and your tits were practically bursting out from behind it.

After you had a moment to catch your breath, he lined up his cock with your now hypersensitive cunt and pushed his throbbing cock within, without giving you a chance to acclimate to his size before he began thrusting into your sloppy, wet cunt.

You started crying because the feeling of him within you was driving you mad. When Reo's left hand rubbed rough circles on your clit, he let out a series of low grunts. And his right found its way to your thirst, where it rested on your throat, making your breath heavier and your cunt tighten until you and Reo were both on the verge of cumming.

"You look fantastic in this position, like a filthy little cum slut who is just itching to be filled, but what you don’t get to cum. So feel free to cry on my cock while I decide if you can continue to breathe.

As your nails drove painfully into his wrist, you whimpered. You felt your dizziness returning slowly. When I tell you to, princess, you'll cum on my cock. While his lips were making contact with hers, he spoke. You could hear the strain in his voice, the quiet gasps.

“M’mm yes sir, promise not to cum until I’m told” you moan out with your fucked out expression which was only make Reo even more feral.

Reo repeats, "Good girl," before giving you a few more pointed thrusts. When he repeatedly lands on the sweet spot, a sound that can only be described as a scream rises up from deep within your chest. He let go of your neck a little while ago.

"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm.

The sight of you struggling to get up with your legs spread wide and his cum leaking out of you into the chilly ground was an object of admiration as he slowly withdrew. He couldn't deny that seeing you there just increased his desire for you, but he forced himself to help you tidy up and enter your Uber, where he spoke softly.

“Once we get home, I’m going to fuck the shit out you real fucking good until you can’t say anything but my name~” you only nodded knowing that you were in for a long night.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #praise #x reader #anime smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #reo mikage #reo smut #party au #club au #age g4p #angst #4k #anime

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starogeorgina · 6 months

Text

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen OC

Warnings: Swearing, character death

1.02

You struggle to breathe normally from crying so much, so you clasp your hand over your mouth to try and help regain control. All the repressed emotions that had been building for years came bubbling out when you and your father got into a heated argument. He was upset that Rhaenyra had suddenly fled to Dragonstone and blamed it on you for giving your older sister the silent treatment, insisting you go fly to her immediately and apologize.

It caused deep pain in your chest, knowing he didn’t care about your side of things. He didn’t even care to ask.

“The decision has been made; you will go to Dragonstone and apologize,” your father says, waving you off dismissively before returning his attention to his sculpture of Old Valyria. “I think it might be good for you to go and stay on Dragonstone for some time.”

“Why? As a punishment?”

“No, my child, it’s so you and Rhaenyra can be there for each other.”

“I don’t want to leave the house; it’s my home.”

“It wouldn’t be forever.”

Red blotches appear across your neck and chest as your body shakes with rage. It felt as if you were being banished for a crime you didn’t commit, and something inside you snapped. “It’s not my fault; none of it is. Not Rhaenyra was leaving, and neither was my mother or brother dying.”

“What?” Your father still makes his movements but keeps his back to you. “Ivory, what did you just say?”

“You were so obsessed with having a son that you forced my mother to get pregnant again and again until she finally died giving birth, and you have spent every day since resenting me for it.”

“That’s simply not true.”

Your eyes gloss over. “You wanted a son, and Baelon died. Leaving you with me.”

“I suggest you go to your chambers and rest before you leave.”

“I’m not going to Dragonstone!” Your father finally turns back around to face you, and the expression on his face is one of disinterest, which angers you further. You had spent years craving his and Rhaenyra’s approval, and now you felt nothing but a fool, a silly girl who thought she needed to remain quiet to keep everyone else happy, but in the heat of the moment, you no longer felt that way. “You remarried Alicent so you could have an heir, and she’s given you three sons and a daughter. Another four children that you don’t even acknowledge!”

Your father shoots you a glare; it was obvious you had struck a nerve. “Ivory, hold your tongue! Remember, I am not only your father; I am also your king.”

“The only child you love is Rhaenyra, and we all know it.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn to leave his bedchamber and come face-to-face with Alicent, who looked speechless. You closed your eyes and waited for her to scold you, but she never does; instead, she holds your hand.

Seeing the worried look on his wife’s face, your father stands. “Alicent, what is wrong?”

“I’m afraid I have some dreadful news for your grace,” she says. “It’s regarding Ser Lyonel and Ser Harwin Strong.”

—

You twiddle with the green and gold ribbons that go down the center of your pale gold dress. It was a beautiful gift from your stepmother, but you couldn’t wear it yet. You focus on the design of the fabric and how it reminds you of dragon scales; it was a good distraction from the last memory you have of your late husband plaguing your mind.

Smiling, you pull your riding gloves off with your teeth as you make your way out of the dragon pit, listening intently as Aegon talked about his lessons in sword fighting. Your conversation comes to an abrupt halt when Ser Harwin appears at the doorway.

He bows his head, but before he has a chance to say anything, Aegon sharply asks, “What do you want?”

“I simply wish to speak to my wife, my prince.”

Aegon turns to you to gauge what your intentions are. Once you nod your head, silently telling him it was okay, he looks between you and Harwin, shooting a death stare at the knight. He says, “Fine, but she can’t stay long. We are expected to have tea with my mother, the queen, shortly.”

Harwin nods his head. “Of course, my prince, I won’t take much of the princess' time.”

When Aegon is out of earshot, Harwin faces you, and the amusement on his face is clear. “I’m glad that your brother is so protective of you.”

“What do you wish to speak to me about?”

He straightens his posture and says, “I am leaving tonight with my father to return to Harrenhal, and I just wanted to say goodbye as it may be some time before I return.”

Feeling your eyes become glossy, you stare at the ground and ask, “Have you said goodbye to Rhaenyra?”

“No, I didn’t think that would be appropriate.”

Heaviness weighs down on your chest. You doubted he was being truthful; you fully expected him and Rhaenyra to say a tearful farewell, but your feelings of concern for the children were stronger than your anger towards them. You clear your throat. “I hope you speak to Jacaerys and Lucerys before you go; they deserve a proper goodbye.”

Harwin’s expression is hard to read as he leans forward, kisses your forehead, and whispers, “I truly am sorry.”

When you remain silent, Harwin bows his head slightly and goes to leave. A horrid feeling twists in your gut; you don’t quit explaining it, but you feel as if it’s a final goodbye. You step forward and ask, “When do you intend to return?”

He gives you a soft smile and says, “Whenever you ask me to, princess.”

You jump when approaching footsteps pull you from your thoughts. You spin around, hand clapped to your chest, the feeling of your heart beating fast pressing against your palm. “Ser Criston, I had no idea you were behind me.”

“Forgive me for startling you, princess,” the knight says. “The queen has asked that I accompany you to the docks.”

Knowing that it was time to leave, you reached for the shawl, lying across your bed, and draped it across your shoulders before leaving your chambers. Many a lord and lady offered you their condolences as you made your way outside as the news of Harwin and his father, the kings hand burning to death made its way around court. In the back of your mind, you wondered how Jace and Luke were coping. No matter how much you hated Rhaenyra for hurting you, you could never hate your nephews.

—

Noticing you rolling your eyes at his comments, Aegon scoffs, “I’m just saying, I hate the color black.”

Not only were you dressed appropriately to mourn Harwin, you were all wearing black as you made your way to Driftmark for the funeral of your uncle's late wife, Lady Laena Velaryon, who had died during childbirth.

“You hate most things.”

Aegon pouts, “I do not.”

You tap your finger along a thick rope that was attached to the side of the boat, trying to think of something smart to say back, but your mind draws blank. “What’s something you love, then?”

“I enjoy drinking and beautiful women.”

Smiling, you shake your head, turning to face the choppy waves. “You’re ridiculous.”

Aegon’s nose crinkles as irritation spreads across his features. He looks up at the sky, watching as your dragons fly side by side. “Sunfyre.”

You smile; the dragon keepers had already spoken about how strong the bond between Sunfyre and Aegon was, especially since the golden dragon never hatched in the crib and they had only bonded a few years prior. “There is no denying that, lēkia.”

You stand together in a comfortable silence, watching as the scenery around you changes, until your destination comes into view and your heart drops. The thought of seeing Rhaenyra again so soon after Harwin’s death made you feel sick.

Aegon stretches his arms out and yawns, but his attention changes to something behind you. He clears his throat and says, “Father.”

You turn to see your father standing on the other side of you with a smile on his face, which was surprising since this was the first time you had spoken following the argument in his bedchamber. “Have you thought anymore about what we discussed?”

Before you can answer, Ghost, the beautiful white dragon you're bonded with, swoops down low and lets out a loud screeching noise, startling everyone on the boat. “No, your grace, I haven’t.”

—

As the funeral ends and the wake for Lady Laena begins, Aegon rudely interrupts the conversation you’re having with the ladies from the house, Darklyn and Baratheon. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you behind him, further away from the crowd and behind some large rocks, so you're out of sight. “What are you doing?” You frown. “That was incredibly ill-mannered; the queen will be furious.”

“What does Father want you to think about?”

You toyed with loose threads on the sleeve of your dress; you felt too embarrassed to tell him the truth. “It doesn’t matter.”

Aegon scoffs, “Fine; perhaps I’ll go ask him myself.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you are obviously fucking upset!” Aegon stumbles backwards into one of the rocks. He had been drinking since you got off the boat; it was actually astonishing that he wasn’t sliding his words by now. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s humiliating, that’s why.” A sinking realization hits you suddenly, and tears glisten in your eyes. “Father no longer wants me around; he wants to ship me off to Dragonstone.”

“I will speak to my mother tonight; you cannot go and live with her; to even suggest it is an insult,” he says, shaking his head. “The king is neither blind nor stupid; he’s in denial and would rather believe my mother is a fool over Rhaenyra being a whore.”

“Aegon!”

“What she is! She slept with your husband and had his bastard children.”

“I know.” The black thread you’ve been pulling on finally snaps. “But—”

You freeze when you hear a snapping sound behind you. Aegon stares at you with his mouth slightly agape. Someone just heard everything he said.

Brother - Lēkia

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #Aegon II Targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #Aegon II Targaryen/you #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen #ghosts in the sky #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x oc #Aegon Targaryen x fem oc #Aegon Targaryen/oc #Aegon ii x oc #aegon ii targaryen x oc #Aegon ii Targaryen x fem oc

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

Butterfly I

a/n I'm clawing my way into this fandom since salt and pepper god took over my brain! Be gentle with me since it's my first time writing for this man! Happy reading! 🤍

summery: When Joel thinks that his life is over his little butterfly sends him a new reason to stay alive. The only problem is that he doesn't know how to love but when you are the meaning of love itself how can he not fall.

Part II can be found on my blog

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World had ended twenty years ago for Joel. Even more so, he was sure that he had died alongside Sarah. If he had a chance, he would have gladly been buried by his little girl. He didn't have a reason to be alive. Well, there was Tommy, but at that moment even that didn't seem like enough to keep him going. The moment Joel failed to do his first and most important job—protect the ones he loved—changed him without a chance of going back.

The morals had to die soon as well, and Joel had learned it the hard way. He tried to fight and protect the innocent at first. To stupidly ensure that everyone had been taken care of in the same amounts. Well, that resulted in him getting beaten multiple times. He didn't fight it at first. The physical pain numbed the emotional scars. But then something snapped in him, and he longed for the first blow. Then the second. Third. With a realization that this was how his sorry life was going be for the rest of his pointless existence. To fear less, Joel needed to become someone people feared, and he did just that.

Until, after one of his deals, he ended up running into you. Completely by accident as he tried to get away from the people he just had business with. Joel bumped into you, knocking you to the ground and causing you to hit your head on the pavement. "Shit, fuck", the male kneeled beside you cursing. You just laid there, and for a split second, Joel was convinced that you had died, until you let out a growl as you moved your hand to gently touch your pounding head. He debated whether he should just leave you there or take you back to his place. The first option was less complicated and demanded fewer efforts from him, but when he saw your eyes as you tried to look around, seeking to find who had caused such a collision, that's when he knew he couldn't just walk away like that.

Then a smile crept onto your face, followed by a light chuckle, and something inside Joel twisted again. He hadn't heard the sound of laughter in years. "Dang, for a moment I saw white horses running around", you laughed out loud, covering your eyes with your hands. Even more, concern washed over Joel. Had you hit your head that hard? He couldn't afford to get you medication or even a doctor for that. So he did the next best thing - assisted you in getting up and walking you to his place.

Everything after that was made up of Joel trying to hurt you so you would leave him and go your way. He desperately wanted to push you out of his life because he was afraid to admit that Sarah would have loved you. That she would have been nagging him constantly to bring you around. Imagining how life would have been with you before the outbreak. How would it have felt to come home to you making dinner? Hearing you and Sarah laughing together. Joel knew—he knew without even needing to think about it much—that his daughter would have loved you. He wished she had had the opportunity to experience your motherly love. The effortless, endless love that poured from within you. And finally, have a truly normal family built on love.

After all, Joel was convinced that Sarah had sent you to him herself. As if it was her way of making sure, even from heaven, which Joel barely believed in, that her father lived. Not just used up air and wasted his days away but found something to live for. You angrily bandaged Joel's arm one evening after yet another deal had ended poorly, leaving the man with a nasty cut on his forearm. Well, if he could even call that anger. Joel doubted you had that emotion implanted in your brain. You had pushed up your sleeves, not wanting the ends of them to get damp as you moved back and forth between a bowl of warm water and a cloth to clean the blood off his skin. That was the first time Joel saw the ink on your body. A butterfly, and then another one just above the first one.

Joel thought he imagined it at first. He knew he must have looked like a lunatic to you when he gripped your left hand firmly before pushing the material of your sleeve even further up. Three butterflies. All inching further up and up. Butterflies. Sarah loved them; she was Joel's little butterfly. The butterfly that got crushed by the brutality of this world.

"Joel," you carefully mumbled as his fingers traced the tattoos. A flicker of what was behind the mask flashed in his eyes. You knew that he was a broken man. People talked, and even if half of what they were saying was true, it was a lot to go through. Especially alone. Especially after losing the main purpose of your world. "This… when did you get this?", his words came out harsh, as if you should have felt guilty, "Not long before the outbreak. It just…", you giggled to yourself, "Feels silly now that they symbolize growth, a new beginning, and shit". However, it didn't seem stupid to Joel even if he had yanked the cloth out of your hand, pushing you out of the bathroom. Emotions took control of him. He couldn't love you. Couldn't stand you. But the way you kept knocking at the door, concern in your voice as you pleaded with him to let you in, only proved what he already knew. You two had found someone to hold onto. As scary as it may sound.

When Ellie first met you, she couldn't believe that you two were even here and had somehow mutually agreed on something. It seemed impossible to her. You were the polar opposite in her eyes. From the moment in the hallway when Joel had yanked her against the wall, you had warned the male as you leaned over to the girl. Ellie backed away at first, but it's like you had a magical touch, and not even a blink later, she was clinging to you as if you were the last straw for her survival. Joel had only grumbled more at the sight of that. "Get your hands off her," he said, motioning with the gun for the girl to move away, but all you did was tilt your head to the side, giving him one of those looks. "Joel…" you warned him, before turning your attention to the girl, "I'm Y/N, and that's Joel. He's always grumpy. It comes with age, so don't pay too much attention to him." For a moment, Ellie got scared that the gun might now end up being pointed at you, but the male only tightened his jaw before lowering the weapon. And that didn't change when you crossed the wall. You were there talking with her, making sure that she was okay, ensuring that Ellie's desire to communicate was satisfied, while Joel just frowned.

"Here you are", Joel's voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled at him softly. You had just made your way to the safe house. Days of traveling rubbed off on all of you, so you were more than happy to indulge in some peace. "Was wondering where you crept away", even if Joel was 99 percent sure that he was going to find you here once he didn't find you in the dining room. It only took one look outside to know you'd be on the patio. Curled up on the bench watching the sunset. Any time you came by Bill's and Frank's, you always spent your evenings there.

"Missed the view," you mumble, resting your chin on your knees, "Or maybe the fact that there is nothing to fear here." Joel moved to sit next to you. His own eyes admired the view. He stopped doing stuff like this. Before the outbreak, it was work, work, work to keep a roof over everyone's heads, bring food, and give Sarah the best life that she deserved. After… well, moments like this felt almost forbidden. Not to mention that letting your guard down could get you killed. "Come here," Joel said, nudging your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you. Interactions like that between the two of you were rear but not completely foreign. You two had shared the bed numerous times. Joel had offered you a warm embrace when he saw that the world was close to crushing you. But you had never talked about who you two were or if you were anything more than a bed warmer for one another. "You do know that I would do anything to protect you?", Joel spoke out under his breath, bringing you even closer to him. Your heart skipped a beat as you moved your palm to cup his jaw, leaving a couple of kisses there as you nodded.

"Do you think they were happy when they…", you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence as the lump in your throat grew bigger. Joel hummed, "They had each other. That's all Bill and Frank needed". You moved to rest your head on Joel's shoulder. Breathing in both the scent of him and the brisk evening breeze. "Do you ever dream about finding the love they had?", the question was silly, truly, and you knew it. You and your existential questions had pissed Joel off more than once, but for some reason, you never stopped asking them. And for some reason, even through gritted teeth, Joel always answered them. The silence fell between you two for a moment. Joel hesitated to give you an answer. The truth was that the ten years you'd spent by his side had been surreal for him. Even if he constantly pushed you away, no matter the arguments you two would have, he always came back to you. Always. And you never walked away. You were always there waiting for him, even when he quite literally told you to get lost. When you were apart, all Joel could think of, was you. Nothing else mattered. He didn't matter. It was you who swirled around his mind. "Well," the male trailed off, "I've already…" But the door on the patio shot open as Ellie walked out, still looking down at the drawing on the shirt you had found for her.

"Hey, did you know that wild berry soup smells like strawberries?", she beamed till her eyes fell on the two of you. Her face instantly shifted since she had never seen you two this close. Well, she assumed that you might be together, but since she didn't see any grown-up interactions being exchanged, she just pushed that thought to the side. "Shit man, you are together. I was talking shit about him to you," Ellie practically cried out as she raised her hands above her head, making you let out a laugh against Joel's shoulder. "We're not dating, bug", "She talked shite about me?" you and Joel said at the same time. The fact that he had gotten visibly offended by it made you let out another chuckle before you tapped his chest a couple of times.

"Girls have to stick together," you shrugged, and Ellie quickly gave Joel the middle finger. "Okay, enough, you two. Go insane, pick something for dinner, and I'll be right behind you," you said, throwing the blanket you had with at the girl, as ushered Ellie inside. You brushed your hand over Joel's chest as you walked towards the door. Joel's brain screamed at him to catch your hand. To make you stop so he could tell you the words he was meaning to say before Ellie walked in, but he didn't. Only tightening his jaw as his lips thinned into a tight line. He was a fool. A true fool who never truly learned to express himself. If only he could, maybe he would be able to call you his.

Joel's gaze immediately shifted to the window that peaked into the inside of the house once the sound of something falling echoed through the air. You and Ellie were on different sides of the island. The girl had one of those smirks that usually led nowhere good on her face. Then the sound of laughter shot through the space as you took off running to grab hold of whatever Ellie was holding in her hands. The girl squealed as you both ran in circles. "Give me the spaghetti hoops, you little thief!", you yelled, but that only made Ellie laugh more. "I'll tell Joel", you tried to threaten her, but she only let out a huff, "You wouldn't snitch", Ellie narrowed her eyes at you. You quickly hopped onto the island and slid to the other side, taking hold of both of Ellie's hands but losing your balance as you two tumbled to the ground. Joel practically ran inside at the sight of that, the worst scenarios already running wild. He couldn't let you get hurt. Neither of you could get hurt.

Joel rounded the corner, his heart already beating fast. And here you were. Ellie was nearly on top of you as you, as you two stared at each other, both still confused at what had just happened. And then there it was again. The laughter. The whole-hearted laughter drenched Joel's heart dry. Your arms wrapped around Ellie as she giggled away, pressing her cheek against your chest. Joel picked up the can of spaghetti hoops that had rolled off and were long forgotten. "Oh no, daddy is here, and he is mad," Ellie shrieked playfully, not lifting her head away from you. "Don't call me that shit," Joel warned her before slamming the can against the counter. He quickly turned around, running a hand over his face. Your expression clouded as well. Carefully, you helped Ellie stand up. Her eyes were looking at you as if she were silently asking if she had overstepped a boundary, but you just gave her a quick wink before pointing to the pot. In a couple of steps, you reached Joel as your hands ran down his back. His muscles tensed under your touch, but the moment you pressed a kiss in between his shoulder blades, Joel let out a sigh. "How about you take a shower while we heat up the food? Clear your mind and all that?", you continued to draw patterns on his skin. Joel didn't say anything as he stepped away from you and over to the stairs.

"Is he mad with me?", Ellie's voice made you turn to her. Her big eyes watched you as you shook your head. "He… well, Joel struggles with his emotions. He cares a lot, but that ends up overwhelming him, and then this happens," you said softly, Ellie nodded her head as if agreeing with you. You nudged her shoulder gently and asked, "Want to make the whole feast tonight? Get the canned sausages out." The shower was indeed all that Joel needed. The hot water took that extra weight of tension off his shoulders, and the fresh set of clothes made him feel like a new man. He was excellent at ignoring his basic needs, but with you, there was no need to worry about that because you always reminded him about all the little things. Things to made him feel better.

Ellie was delivering joke after joke while you all ate. Her energy was surprisingly high, considering that the last couple of days had been rough. "I'm telling you, he just knows all the jokes", she grumbled when Joel hit the right answer to her fifth joke, defeating the purpose of her performance. Joel's hand had slipped under the table, casually resting on your thigh, and you occasionally gave it a little squeeze as if to ensure him that you were here with him. "Okay, can I try?", you weren't much of a jokester, but everyone knew a joke or two. Ellie nodded her head eagerly. You cleared your throat, "What do you call a fish with a bow tie?" You questioned the two of them, trying not to break into a smile. Ellie shrugged her shoulders. "SoFISHticated," Ellie just gaped at you, but Joel snorted under his breath. Your eyes fall on him in an instant. He shook his head, trying to keep the smile off his face. "You laughed, you fucker," Ellie said, pointing her fork at Joel. "I didn't," Joel argued back, "Yes, you fucking did. Y/N tell him", "Yeah, Joel, I consider that a laugh", you moved your hand to gently rub the back of his neck, and his eyes met yours. He got lost in the depths of them just a bit before another laugh escaped his lips. You bit your lip as you watched him, realizing how much you had missed the sound of that. Since the only time you heard it was when the two of you got shitface drunk, and he fell while trying to take his pants off.

"You can fucking laugh. Dude, you're normal," Ellie beamed, watching Joel chuckle. "Eat your noodles before I take them away," Joel warned, reaching over and scooping some of the spaghetti hoops from Ellie's plate, making her protest straight away. She leaned across the table to do the same, but Joel brushes her spoon away easily. "No playing with the food, you two," you gently warn them, even though you enjoyed watching them interact, especially Joel letting her in. They instantly settle back down, even if they continue to watch one another from the corner of their eyes.

Yeah, this was the closest to home that Joel had gotten in over twenty years. Now all he needed to do was own up to his feelings. Admit to himself that the scary feelings won't disappear. But he was going to be equally scared with you or without your officially being a part of his life. And he had promised Sarah, his little butterfly, that he wasn't going to let this go to waste. And that the three butterflies on your hand were possibly you, Joel, and Ellie; that you were all fated to meet. Maybe you two were sent here to change his life. Teach Joel how to fly again.

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine

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whorefordaemon · 1 year

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Requests open?

Hear me out babe.

Daemon making love with his daughter!reader and rhaenrya finding out about them and started to be more observant towards them and getting jealous because she can't have daemon 🫶

"All that I am, belongs to you.."

Warnings: nsfw, incest, creampie, infidelity, Daemon Targaryen.

words: 2k

Rhaenyra watched from her place at the table as her prince danced with his daughter.

She had no wish to judge, after all she looked more favorably upon her firstborn too.

And Daemon Targaryen's love for his eldest child could not be overstated. Everyone knew how much he loved the girl.

'My sweet Dragon' He called her.

He loved Baela and Rhaena too. And Aegon and Viserys were their little darlings.

But she was special. Quite obviously so.

She watched as Daemon pulled his daughter closer after a dip, his hands around her waist tightening and her eyes never leaving his. Her hands gripped his broad shoulders and squeezed as she let out a laugh at whatever he had whispered in her ear. A soft, sweet sound that had her husband smiling as well.

That was not how daughters act with their fathers.

As the song slowed into a softer tune, the kind of dance being performed also changed. The only people that remained in the center hall were courting pairs.

It should have been a sign. But she supposed Daemon and his daughter were too caught up in each other to notice.

Daemon did not ask Rhaenyra to dance even once, all his attention focused on his darling.

She laid her head on his chest as the dance continued, cheeks flushed red and a soft, contented smile on her face. It was as if nothing else existed in the world but them.

Rhaenyra gripped the table cloth, her nails denting her palm as she watched the two.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be! She was supposed to be the most important person in Daemon's life, her children should've been his first priority!

She watched, silently stewing in anger but unsure of what to do when suddenly, her half-brother Aemond stood up from the table, his fists clenched as he approached his wife.

He got right in between the father and daughter.

"Nuncle! May I have the chance to dance with my wife?" He asked, already pulling her away from Daemon.

Rhaenyra didn't miss the dark glower Daemon sent his nephew's way as he moved back to allow Aemond to take his daughter's hand.

His daughter didn't seem to enjoy dancing with her husband nearly as much as she did with her father it seemed. Because for the rest of the dance, she merely swayed to the tune and her smile was obviously forced.

Daemon wasn't doing any better as he sat at the table, next to her and yet it felt as though she was barely there.

He kept glancing at his daughter, whose own eyes often wandered back to her father even as she held her husband's hand.

This is simply not done!

Rhaenyra scowled. Yes, they were Targaryens and the rules and customs of common men didn't apply to them but, this was too much, even for Targaryens.

Fathers don't fuck their daughters! Even Valyrians refrained doing something so depraved.

She pulled at his sleeve, getting his attention, though it was half hearted at best. "Daemon, I'm not feeling very well, take me to our room." Emphasizing the need for him to be there with her.

Daemon sighed before nodding. He got up and went to his daughter. He pulled her from Aemond and whispered someone to her before kissing her forehead and coming to take her.

The sweet smile on the girl's face could easily be mistaken for familial love.

But Rhaenyra knew better.

As they walked, Daemon barely spoke to her, only holding her hand to help her balance. She noted how he didn't try to pull her any closer. There was an invisible space between them and it stung. Worse than she had expected.

He laid her on the bed, no kiss on the forehead as he helped her take her jewelry and the heavy dress off. He took care of her. But she felt no love for her from him.

"You won't stay?" She asked as he turned to leave.

He rolled his eyes, "I'll come back after checking up on the children." He didn't wait for her reply and left.

Rhaenyra bit her lip, reigning in the desire to throw something at him. She needed him more than the kids. Why couldn't he see that?!

Sleep evaded the Crown Princess as she waited for her husband to return. Tossing and turning in the cold bed.

Their children weren't toddlers! They had maids! Why was it taking him so long?!

She waited a little while longer before her anxiety got to her, getting up and going to look for her uncle.

She checked the boy's quarters first, Jace and Luke were asleep in their beds, Baela and Rhaena held onto each other in their shared bed and her little ones were asleep in their nursery. All safe and asleep, their maids present and shaking their heads when she enquired about Daemon's whereabouts.

Daemon wasn't with any of them. He hadn't even visited any of them.

Her thoughts returned to his eldest daughter. His Sweet Dragon.

She was married with a babe of her own. Surely she didn't need to be tucked in by her father?

Rhaenyra thought she should go back to bed but the thoughts didn't leave her and she found herself moving towards his eldest daughter's quarters.

Like the Queen and King and Aegon and Helaena, Aemond and her slept separately as well.

The long hallway was surprisingly unguarded and Rhaenyra held her breath as she went closer, just hoping the doors weren't locked.

She slowly pushed open a door, peering into the dimly lit room and as she took in the sights her hand immediately went to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming.

'It wasn't fucking fair!'

Daemon was there, his attention solely focused on the body under him. His hands had a fierce grip on the girl's hips as he repeatedly pulled her to himself. His large hands encircled her tiny waist. He grunted after a particularly hard thrust, making the girl shriek as well.

She was nearly naked, her skirts raised around her waist and the top of her dress unlaced just enough that her large, perky breasts were able to peek through.

Her hands were tightly gripping the bedding as she bit her lip in a desperate bid to contain her moans.

"Kepa.." her soft whimpers were nearly drowned by the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

Their movements were hurried and fast. Rough. Daemon's hands went from her hips to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her up and making her sit on his lap.

Bringing her closer to him.

The skirt hid the fact that his cock was currently nestled deep, really deep given their uncomfortable position, into his daughter's cunt.

She threw her head back, long silver locks splayed across her father's chest as she leaned back into him, a loud shriek escaping her despite how tightly she held her bottom lip between her teeth. Her chest rose rapidly as she breathed out harshly. Her breasts bounced out of her flimsy shift.

"My sweet....sweet girl. My dragon.." Daemon whispered to her in Valyrian. One of his hands went down, under her skirts which caused the girl to buck up into him rather violently, almost hitting him as she threw her head back and let out a loud moan.

"Ah!...fuck!"

His other hand immediately went to clamp around her mouth. But he didn't stop his ministrations. The repeated thrusts of his hips only increased as did the movement of his hand under her skirt.

She was trying to scream over his hand now as her bucking and shaking only increased. The way she moved up as though the feeling was too much but then immediately moved down as if she already missed him.

Daemon leaned in to kiss her hair, a soft gesture that bothered Rhaenyra more than anything else they were doing.

"Come on, my sweet dragon...mine..." Daemon whispered in her ears, hands slowly leaving her mouth to harshly grope at her breasts.

She immediately let out a loud moan before again biting her bottom lip in a vain attempt at keeping quiet. One of her hands went to grab her father's arm, begging him to relax his harsh grip. Daemon didn't.

"Kepa, I can't...I can't be quiet.." She wimpered, tears welling up in her eyes, making Daemon chuckle and he kissed her shoulders.

"We have to. We don't want to wake up our little babe now, do we?" She took a deep breath and nodded at his words.

Did the mention of her babe, her husband's child bring no thought, no shame to her mind?

"Kepa, Kepa I want another.." she whimpered, tilting her head to look at him. Her eyes hazy as though she had been drunk. "I want another babe! One simply isn't enough! Please..uh, uh..Oh fuck!...AH-"

She closed her eyes and her hand went to her mouth as she tried, desperately, to stifle her loud moan as she shuddered violently, creaming his cock no doubt.

Daemon groaned, "So tight...so fucking tight and wet!" She moaned at his filthy words.

"All for you..only you Kepa!"

"You want another babe, don't you? A little pure sister for our pure Valyrian son?" Rhaenyra felt her heart stop at the words she was hearing.

Their son?!

"Yes! I want a little girl..Fuck! Ah...And then another boy! I want to give you ten sons!.. Then ten more!" How shameless her words were.

How they pleased Daemon though as he groaned before pulling out of her and turning her to face him.

Her whimper and protests were muffled as their lips met. Her hands immediately going to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer in.

She pushed him backwards before moving to sit on his lap.

Daemon lined up his cock before pulling her down, closer to him, both moaning lowly as she took him inside her again.

"This is better isn't it, love? I can see your sweet face." Daemon whispered to her.

His daughter blushed red before nodding. Looking him in the eye, "So much like yours Kepa. I'm all yours." She told him, removing some of his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears.

Daemon smirked before he thrust upwards, bringing out a loud moan that he silenced by joining their lips.

His hands again gripped her waist, taking advantage of her petite frame to roughly pull her down on him.

The obscene sounds of flesh meeting flesh made their pathetic attempts at keeping quiet completely irrelevant.

She wrapped her hands around his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of this tunic.

Daemon's eyes were on his hands on her hips, intently and roughly pulling her, his daughter, to him.

Again and again and again.

She threw her head back, face and body twisting up in pleasure as she whined and moaned like a wanton whore.

"Fuck!..yes, yes, yes...Kepa, give it to me. Please...please, I want another baby! Another pure Valyrian babe!"

Daemon chuckled, bringing her head closer to pull her into yet another kiss.

Their lips met and she let out a soft whimper when he bit her bottom lip.

"Yes..another. A sister for our son to fuck one day.." By the Gods, his words were so vulgar...

She giggled, bringing him closer and holding him to her chest. "Kiss me there.."

Daemon obeyed and soon, she was again whimpering as he began to suck and fondle her large breasts.

Rhaenyra watched the two of them. So intuned to each other's emotions.

How sweetly Daemon comforted and spoke soft praises whenever his daughter got overwhelmed.

How the girl held onto him, refusing to be parted from his embrace even as he flipped them over, his body covering hers almost entirely.

"Harder. Harder please Kepa..please.." she sobbed as her pleasure peaked yet again.

Daemon comforted her by peppering kisses all along her collarbone. His head buried in her neck as he no doubt whispered soft words of love to her.

His thrusts became sloppy as his grip on her tightened. "Fuck!" He shouted as he came. Deep inside her.

"Yes...Give it to me please Kepa! I want another baby! So bad!"

Daemon grunted and leaned up to kiss her again. Both caressing each other as their lips met.

It broke Rhaenyra's heart to see the bliss and love in Daemon's gaze as he looked upon his daughter. And his lover.

She couldn't bring herself to speak another word. This was too much, she wanted to be gone from here. She couldn't take it.

This couldn't be true. Of all the people, Daemon couldn't have betrayed her like this. Not him! Anyone but him!

She still stood by the door. Long enough to listen to the final stab at her heart.

"I love you, Kepa. With all my heart.."

"I love you too, my blood and seed. Mine. All of you is mine..."

#Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x reader #Daemon Targaryen smut #Daemon x reader #Daemon Targaryen fic #Rhaenyra Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen #They're just there #No body in this fic cares for them sorry...#father x daughter #smut #asoiaf

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 year

Text

L'appel du Vide pt.2

Pairing- Sully family x Sully!reader

Summary- You and your mother kept a secret about your self harm but how long can you keep it?

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Warnings- depictions of self harm, self harm, crying, cussing

A/N- I might make a pt.3 idk yet

It had been two weeks since your mother saw you at your lowest, and everytime she looks at you like your gonna hurt yourself, you wish you could go back in time before all this happened. And every night and hour after Eclipse she comes into your room and checks on you she thinks you don't know but you do. But she hasn't told your father and you thank Eywa for that. But the tension between you and your mother certainly hasn't gone unnoticed.

But now everything was so much you were in the ground searching for your balde your mother threw across the room and you found it. You took a deep breath and put it into your bag and run to the beach we're Amhel was tied up.

Your father told you that you couldn't ride Amhel anymore but you needed space from everything even from yourself. You made it to some small remote island and sat down and took a deep breath and every emotion you've shoved out or pushed away flooded right back in. You brought the blade and rushed it across the skin of your wrist doing it multiple ways until you couldn't anymore. You out the balde back in your bag and lean into Amhel and look up at the stars.

It was an two hours past eclipse, your eyes open and Amhel chirps. You must have fallen asleep, "Shit." You whisper to yourself as you get into Amhel and rush back home. Meanwhile, you mother was searching around frantically. "Neytiri it's going to be okay." Jake was worried and the way your mother looked made his worry worsen. "No it isn't Ma Jake you don't kno-" cut off by the sound of Amhel's wings getting closer she rushes towards the beach and she looks at you searching for an injury on your body. She grabs your wrist and you wince and she tilts her head and clenches her jaw.

"Y/N where were yo-" before he could do his old school dad scolding Neytiri spoke harshly. "House now." You bite back your tongue as you walked home in your head repeating. "Stupid stupid stupid."

When you made it you didn't see your siblings. "Y/N te Suli Neytiri'ite." Your mother spoke making shivers run down your back. "What." You say just wanting to go to your room now she was taken back by how harsh your voice was. "Where were you?" She asked your father finally made it in and looked at your deadpanned expression and your mother's face that showed anger with a hint of sadness. "No where important obviously." You say sitting your bag down and Neytiri grabbed it making you rush towards it. "Hey!" Jake said in a deep loud voice. You look at your mother still no expression. "Now we're were you." He asked this time voice softer. "Just some island." You say sitting down.

"What did you do Y/N?" Neytiri asked clenching the bag. "None of your business now give me my bag." You felt cornered your defense mechanisms came up. "What's in the bag Y/N?" Neytiri asked Jake stood there way watching his wife and his daughter have some argument about something he knows nothing about. "Nothings in the bag how would you feel if I took your bow and held from you now give me my god damn bag." You felt as if a million eyes were on you. Neytiri shook her head and opened your bag and threw stuff out until she saw what she feared.

She looked at you, you had a hateful expression on your face. "Really." She said and all you did was wipe your now tear stained face. "Give it back." You say. Jake was still confused. "What is going on with you two it's like you two have something going on now what is it." He said but your eyes never left your mother she gave him the blade as tears fell from her eyes. "She's been harming herself." The words left your mom and it felt as if you had been stabbed in the back your transparent eyebrows furrowed as you turned away from your parents.

Jake looked at you the way you hid your wrist and he sat the balde down, and then it was as if it all clicked together all the excuses to why you have cuts all over yourself you caused them to yourself and he was to blind to see it, to blind to see his babygirl was hurting. "Oh babygirl no." He said you hear the painful emotions in his voice. "You don't have to do that we understand-"

"No you don't you don't understand me you don't understand how I feel like I'm just someone living another person's life, how I feel like my family isn't my family, how I feel like I'm already dead you don't understand shit now give me my shit back." You hiss at your father who only looked at you with tears in his eyes. "And stop looking at me like that!" You yell and your mother jumped back.

"Sweetheart it's okay it's okay." He's words made you dig your fingers into your arm. He saw and hugged you. "You don't have to hurt yourself any more you angry hurt me hit me kick me do anything but don't hurt yourself anymore, your my baby girl." Your arms clamped around him as you cry into his chest, like you were a little kid and that how you felt like a little kid who only wants her daddy and mama to hold her and tell her everything is going to be alright. But was it really?

Tags- @ellabellabus07 @isnt-itstrange

#avatar 2 #avatar 2022 #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar way of water #awotw x reader #awotw #avatar x reader fluff #avatar angst #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #avatar x reader #sully family x reader #sully family #avatar x sully!reader #sully!reader

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chosopie · 3 months

Text

📿 LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION - PRIEST SUGURU GETO

SUMMARY: When a priest and his best friend find out about an unforgivable tragedy that occurred in the church they attend to, they both resort to an unorthodox way of coping.

cw: geto as a priest, fem!reader, slight angst, mentions of abuse, death, murder, catholic guilt, confession box, degradation (words like slut), face-fucking, sloppy sex, the collar stays on, inspired by fleabag

“He fucking killed them,” Suguru choked, black eyes brimmed with tears.

This was the first time you’ve heard him swear, ever since he began serving the church. His face was red with anger, his hands shaky and weak. You gently grasped his hands, holding them in place to ease the tremors. His dark and weary eyes looked up at you. The way his beautiful face expressed so much sadness and frustration pained you. A face like that shouldn’t ever have to make those expressions.

Suguru felt many things, but mostly betrayal. He felt betrayed by his fellow brothers, the church, and God Himself for allowing such a thing to happen. He wholeheartedly devoted himself to the church’s cause but it all ended up in vain. Instead, he felt like an accomplice to the evil that brewed in the church. You were right all along and he wished he had listen to those stories you would tell him about. All those years, you would tell him about the church’s ongoing systematic abuse and corruption, but he was so blinded by the false sense of security religion had provided him.

“Not my church,” he’d always tell you.

“I’m sorry,” he pulled your shirt, bunching up the fabric in his hands and pulling you close for an embrace. He smelled of incense and cigarettes. The mixture of the two scents don’t sound pleasant, yet it was intoxicating to you.

“You were right. I feel so fucking stupid.”

“It’s not your fault, Suguru. You can’t blame yourself for something others did,” you tried to reassure him.

“I could have prevented it if I wasn’t so naive.”

This was the night Suguru had flipped a switch. Two candles were lit for Mimiko and Nanako by Mother Mary’s altar—the two kindhearted girls who were more than happy to attend church and help out Father Kenjaku who had beat them to death like the devil he is for his own pleasure. Suguru was going to avenge them.

Lex talionis.

Oculum pro oculo.

Whatever the saying was, Kenjaku must die.

With the swift swing of a dagger that was blessed with holy water, Kenjaku’s chest was impaled, a fountain of blood spurting out of the wound, painting Suguru’s pale and expressionless face a deep shade of red. There was so much blood. Everyone was taught a human body would have more than a gallon of blood. It doesn’t sound like much until it’s spilling all over the floor or onto ur hands.

Now, three deaths had occurred in the church.

The next morning, Suguru went back to church like nothing had happened. You had called him over, telling him that you’d like to do a confession. As cruel as it sounded, you wanted to try and have Suguru all for yourself, especially when his faith was wavering because that would mean you had a chance. You had a chance to take him and forever turn your backs from the church.

You put on a long black dress that perfectly hugged your curves. Your hair was effortlessly tied up into a ponytail, small strands of your hair framing your delicate face. Your lips were painted with an enticing red lipstick. Before you left your apartment, you made sure to spray yourself with an expensive vanilla perfume that would surely last the whole day, then you slipped into your black high heels that had bright red soles.

The church wasn’t too far from your apartment, which is why you chose the place—so you could easily hang out with Suguru. You stopped by the cafe beside your apartment, ordering coffee for you and Suguru. You carefully held the disposable coffee tray as you crossed the street.

“Suguru,” you called, your voice echoing throughout the church’s walls. The place was dark. The only source of light came from the burning candles by the altars. There were rays of colors on the marble floor, reflections from the colorful stained glass windows with portraits of saints and honorable figures. You placed the tray down on the table by the altar.

“You’re early,” Suguru replied, but you couldn’t find where his voice was coming from.

A dark figure emerged from behind you and you turned around, now face to face with Suguru. His face was so close to yours you could feel his warmth. He smiled at you.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said as he walked towards the pew to sit down. “But before that…” he paused. “Come here.”

You made your way to the pew and sat behind him. There was barely any distance that separated the two of you. Both sides of your arms and thighs were pressed against each other, so close you guys were practically basking in each other’s warmth. Suguru shamelessly stole a whiff of your perfume, humming in delight when he takes notice of your go-to perfume that he had gifted you during your birthday last year.

“What made you lose faith?” He softly asked.

“Like I said… the ugly stuff happening behind the church’s big ass doors.

“I see,” he didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t pry any further. “Shall we start?” You nodded.

Your priest-best friend opened the box for you, letting you inside while he entered the other side of the box. You could feel the particles of dust enter your nose, causing you to cough. Besides your coughing, it was eerily silent. You could see bits of his face through the holes like he was behind bars.

“The sign of the cross,” Suguru broke the silence. You both raised your hands, drawing a cross from your forehead, down to your chest, then across your shoulders.

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned…” you sighed. You could feel your heart pounding through your chest, beads of sweat running down your temples.

“Mhm,” Suguru responded. Somehow, it made your nerves wrack.

“Recently, my mind has been consumed by sinful thoughts. It’s awful. I feel like I’m going insane these days,” you dryly laugh.

He doesn’t respond, urging you to continue.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continued speaking. “I’ve been lusting over a man that I’m forbidden to go after.”

“A married man?” He suddenly spoke. His voice was harsh and cold, making you worry. Have you crossed a line already?

“No,” you squeak. “A priest.” There was silence on his end, the weight of your words slowly settling in, creating an unsettling feeling in the pits of your stomach. It felt like you stomach was being twisted into knots. “Oh, forgive me father!” You cried out in shame.

Suguru laughed. “Oh, dear. Why are you asking me for forgiveness? Is it not the Lord you seek forgiveness from?” He paused. “Unless, you are talking about me.”

“I’m sorry, father!” you plead, but you didn’t feel guilty at all for saying such a thing. It felt relieving to finally express your feelings to him, after all those years of pining and heartache.

“Fuck you calling me father like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it,” Suguru devilishly grinned. “Now kneel like the dirty slut you are for me.” There was a sudden change in his aura. It intimidated you, but in the hottest way possible.

You frantically nodded, instantly falling to your knees as you hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He helped you pull down his brief, freeing his hard and leaking cock from the constraints of the fabric. You could see the faint glisten of the sticky fluid dribbling down the head of his throbbing cock. Before you could put your hand on it, Suguru roughly forced your mouth open, and pushed your head onto his dick. A moan was drawn out of his mouth from the newfound burst of pleasure.

It was too big. Your mouth could barely contain the size of it. The tip grazed the back of your throat and the girth painfully stretched your lips, causing the sides of your mouth to slightly crack and bleed. He wiped the small bits of blood off your mouth and held your cheek.

It felt so good. For years, Suguru had been deprived of sexual pleasure. He had been deprived of you. In an instance, he had forgotten about his morals—what to do, what not to do, to fuck or not to fuck. It’s all unholy. He knew this for sure, but he didn’t care because his dick was hard and he was finally going to bust his load into your hot mouth.

Having you sucking him off gave him a sense of control over his human desires. He continued to thrust into your mouth. You gagged on his dick, saliva messily falling from your mouth and coating his dick. You were so pretty like this. The way your eyes were teary and how your mouth struggled to take him kept him amused.

“God, you have no idea how I’ve always wanted to do this to you,” Suguru groaned, throwing his head back while he cupped your face and bucked his hips into you.

The sound of his voice made your pussy throb, your panty collecting all the slick that had been dripping out of your hole the whole time. Knowing how immoral this all was turned you on. You loved and hated how you were enjoying this. No matter how hard you suppress your past beliefs, it was always going to be stored away in you, remaining dormant at your will. There was no denying the fact that it had already been encoded into your very being, leaving behind a big baggage of guilt. Was Suguru enjoying this too? You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth. Was he close already? You tried to ask him, but your mouth was full. All that left your mouth were a series of muffled sounds.

The sounds you made seemed to turn Suguru on. He shut his eyes and tightened his grip on your face, his nails piercing the flesh of your cheeks, leaving faint red marks. He moaned. His voice was so sweet and erotic it made your aching clit throb with arousal.

“Shit. Y/N! Hah-“ he breathily moaned out as he reached his climax, clenching his grip as he shot his warm cum down your throat. It tasted pleasantly sweet and salty. He pulled his dick out to let you swallow his cum and give you a minute to take a breath and regain your composure. His hand moved the stray hairs out of his face to see your intricate features that were shiny with sweat. With the back of his hand, he caressed your rosy cheek, his knuckles brushing past the marks he left on your face.

You got up from the ground and tugged on his collar as you boldly pressed your lips against his. His lips were soft and warm against yours, his tongue gliding across the bottom of your swollen lip. The kiss was sloppy and wet. The two of you were inexperienced and it showed, nevertheless you just let your bodies move with the flow. His hands snakes up your hips, tracing your curves. He groaned against your lips, his erection poking your stomach as you moved closer to him. You helped him take off his black blazer and unbutton his white dress shirt that was stained with sweat. You touched his collar to take it off, but he caught your hand and smacked it away.

“The collar stays on,” he said after pulling away from the kiss. His blazer fell to the floor with a loud clank. You stared at him with confusion. He bent over to pick something up from his blazer, revealing a sharp dagger with a beautifully engraved hilt, the silver blade menacingly glinted at you.

“Hey, Suguru…” your voice shook. Did he go mad too?

“Just trust me, Y/N. I’d never hurt you,” Suguru reassuringly said into your ear, his honeyed voice sweet as ever. You exhaled, breathing out the anxiousness from your chest, and looked into his sincere eyes. He pointed the dagger onto the middle of chest, right between your breasts and tore your dress to pieces, leaving you naked.

“You didn’t even bother to put on some undergarments. Were you hoping I’d fuck you in this confession box?” In the dark, you could still notice the smug grin on his face. You nodded at him. He opened his mouth and latched onto your tits, his tongue hungrily swirling around your nipples. You could feel his saliva dripping down his chin and onto your body.

“Suguru,” you moaned out and tightly held onto his long black messy hair.

His mouth pulled away from your tit with a soft pop, a string of saliva connected his lip to your bud. “Turn around.”

Quickly, you turned around, your ass lightly hitting Suguru’s dick. He bit his lip as he felt blood coursing through his dick. He felt a rush of excitement and a tinge of shame for what he was about to do. He wished he would be doing this with you under a different circumstance and place. He felt guilty for even putting you in a situation like this. This was not how you deserved to be treated. It was your first time and it had to be special.

“Do you really want to do this?” He asked, his voice laced with worry and concern.

“Yes, please.”

“Are you sure?” You nodded.

“Alright,” he sighed, looking down on your ass and rubbing circles on them. You could feel his dick poking your ass.

"That's it." Suguru talked you through it to distract you from the sudden stretch. He tightly held your ass as he slowly pushed his tip inside you. His dick was barely inside you, but you could already feel the stretch. He slowly pumped his tip in and out of you, lubing it with your juices to help ease his way inside you. You whined, a surge of pleasure crashed into your body, sending tingles everywhere. Your pussy pulsated around his cock, perfectly hugging his girth.

"Your pussy's taking me so well," His smooth voice praised you, sending a shiver down your spine. "Do you think you could take it all now?"

"Just put it in," you panted and squirmed under his touch. His hands slowly crawled to your back to gently caress it. He could feel the droplets of sweat running down the arch of your lower back.

"Fuck!" You loudly moaned, feeling his whole cock jam into your insides, leaving no room for movement. You were worried about the pain. Perhaps you overestimated your abilities.

"Shhh, it's alright. I'll go slow baby." His soothing voice slightly calmed you down. He kissed your shoulders and back to comfort you.

After a while, your pussy gradually adjusted to his size and eased up. Suguru felt you relax around his dick—a silent signal from you to urge him to start moving. Like he promised, he started with a slow and steady pace, careful not to rush and hurt you. With each thrust came lewd squelching noises that sounded like it was straight out of a porno. Your pussy was filled with your own juices and his pre-cum, both liquids sliding down your labia like it was drooling for him. He traced your folds, collecting your slick with the tip of his finger to have a taste. He sucked on his finger, relishing the sweet taste of your cunt's wetness, then he returned his hand to your core, searching for your clit.

He glided his finger across your pussy's lips, navigating his way through your clit. He moves to the upper portion, finally landing on your attention-deprived clit. Slowly, he rubbed circles on it while applying a bit of pressure.

"Does this feel good?"

"Yes. Faster! Please, Suguru."

"Careful, baby. Be more specific or I'll start fucking your pussy hard," He chuckled.

You placed your hand on top of his, guiding it to your clit’s sweet spot. "Here." Complying to your request, he picks up his pace, his finger effortlessly swiping and rubbing your clit like he was born to do it. You couldn’t stop moaning, your legs starting to shake as he stimulated both your vagina and clit. You have never felt this much pleasure in your life and it was driving you nuts.

The way your body moved and reacted to Suguru’s touch was so enthralling it made his heart race. He was frustrated that he had been missing out on having sex with you. It was the best thing he’s ever felt—an unforgettable feeling he would continue to chase for the rest of his life. This made his mind set on one thing. Fuck his beliefs. Your body was a temple and from now on, it was the only thing he was going to worship. He’d worship you like a disciple. The least he could do for you was make you cum.

"Your pretty cunt is so good. Can I cum in her?" Suguru groaned.

"Cum in me all you want," you begged, getting carried away and backing up on his dick to push it even deeper into the depths of your pussy. You both let out a breathy moan. The two of you loudly fucked ike desperate teenagers in a bathroom stall. The pace you two were going at made it seem like time was ticking and tomorrow would be the end of the world. He started pounding into you even harder, roughly pinning your body and face against the wooden wall of the box. The loud slapping sounds of his hips slamming into your ass and your moans filled your ears. Your bodies moved against each other like they were made to do so, connected to each other in such a way that just made sense. The way his lips connected with yours, how your hands entwined, and how his dick felt inside you, he fit like a missing puzzle piece.

It was beautiful and erotic. Your sensitive pussy clenched and spasmed on his dick as you felt another orgasm shake your body. You moaned and shook with pleasure.

"Keep moaning like that. Gonna cum-" his words were cut short by his loud moans. His dick shot white sticky ropes of cum, feeding your messy pussy. When he pulled out, he watched his cum spill out of your hole, making his dick hard again.

The two of you panted. The air felt thin and hot, but he couldn't pull away form you. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on the back of your shoulder.

"Do you regret it?" You suddenly asked him, hoping his answer would give your mind the peace and closure it would need after a troubling situation the two of you had found yourselves in.

"No. Fuck all of this. I just want to be yours. You're the last good thing left of me, Y/N.”

Fear was all Suguru felt at this moment. Were you going to abandon him now?

“I’m all yours too, Suguru. I’ve always been.” You beamed at him.

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