#but ha! i did it and sapphire is finally back

[tonycries]

The Heir - G.S.

Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.3k

A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.

An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father. 

You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him. 

“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”

“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”

Schwing!

They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon. 

The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Beneath a Dragon's Gaze

Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different | Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: sex work, smut, hair pulling, biting, titty sucking, darkish Aemond

A/N: saw ep 3 and felt silly 😁 not proofread an inch

“The Prince has asked for you.”

She could not help the wide-eyed look and the familiar flipping of her stomach, now feeling entirely different with the words that had come from her fellow woman’s lips. The Prince. Well, it could have meant either of them only weeks before, but no longer. They frequented this establishment quite often, as an upper-class brothel, with only the finest whores and service, it was only natural, and they had the coin to pay for it.

Suddenly, she felt quite cold in the sheer dress she had chosen that evening, doing very little to conceal the flesh that hid beneath, her nipples having formed peaks against the satin. What could she possibly say to that? There was no possibility of refusing. 

“Very well,” she responded, knowing it was not her place to question. There was no question as to which now, it was most certainly the very same who frequented for the warm embrace and soothing voice of Madame Sylvi, who spent hours in her company and paid her a hefty price for it. For secrecy. But she knew just as well that the only reason Aemond had requested her instead, was because on this night, his usual appointment was indisposed. 

Her heart raced as she slalomed through the scantily clad crowd, each step bringing her closer to the corner where the prince awaited. The halls were dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls, alongside those of curved figures, twisted with pleasure. She could hear the muted sounds of such from the other rooms, but they did little to quell the nervousness that gripped her.

When she reached the curtain, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The Prince. Aemond Targaryen. Known for his fierce demeanour and sharp intellect, he was not a man to be trifled with. Yet, beneath that cold exterior, she had heard whispers of a man burdened by the weight of his family.

Sliding the curtain across, met with the Prince, eyepatch already discarded and down only to his breeches, sat with cup in hand on the plush settee, his lone eye raising to her as she dipped for a curtsy. She felt her throat close at the sight of the sapphire, somewhat mirroring what was happening between her thighs.

"Madame Sylvi sends her apologies, my prince. She is unable to attend to you this evening."

Aemond's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "I did not call for Sylvi tonight," he said finally, his tone giving nothing away. "I called for you."

Her lips parted to question. But she dare not let the words free. She was not one to ask about his intentions, a mere whore.

“Undress.”

The Prince’s eye never wavered as he watched, flesh revealed as she bared herself to him. He stood as if uncurling himself, finishing what was left in his cup before moving his hands to unlace his breeches, his head gesturing to the settee.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

His commanding tone made those flutters awaken once more. She had been employed at this establishment for so long, of course being naked and bared to an abundance of men was second nature. But there was something about the way he wanted her, the way it seemed not spurred by desire of any kind, but a need, like air, that ignited her nerves that she had not felt since her first few days in this line of work.

Still, bare arsed and exposed to a Prince, was a different matter entirely.

She felt his presence behind her, knowing he was naked as his thighs brushed against hers. He nudged her knees apart and pushed gently on her spine, encouraging her to arch her back. Though she could not see his face, the rippled design of the copper in front of her reflected enough for her to sense the detachment in his actions. So, she remained silent.

Prince Aemond guided himself to her centre, barely wet, and pushed his cockhead inside. He had barely breached her when his hands gripped the flesh of her buttocks, watching intently as his cock slowly slid deeper into her cunt, being swallowed by her body. She closed her eyes, the lack of preparation making the act more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but she hoped that with time, her arousal would ease the discomfort.

As Prince Aemond continued to push himself inside her, she focused on her breathing, trying to relax her body and ease the discomfort. The room was silent except for their breaths, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced on the walls. Each inch he gained felt like a stretch, a challenge to her body's readiness, but she bit her lip, determined to endure.

His hands, firm on her buttocks, began to knead her flesh, his grip alternating between gentle caresses and possessive squeezes. The friction built steadily, her body slowly acclimating to his presence. The initial pain started to fade, replaced by a growing warmth and the stirrings of pleasure.

Aemond moved with a deliberate pace, his thrusts measured and controlled. He seemed intent on watching every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside her, his breathing heavy and laboured. She could feel his intensity, the way he held back his own urges to maintain that slow, torturous rhythm.

Despite the initial discomfort, her arousal began to build. Her body responded to his movements, her inner walls slickening and accommodating his length with increasing ease. Soft moans escaped her lips, unbidden but honest, as pleasure began to mix with the remnants of pain.

Aemond's hands slid from her buttocks to her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting spots inside her that sent jolts of pleasure through her body. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, seeking some anchor as the sensations intensified.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you feel that?" he murmured, his voice husky and edged with restraint. "Do you feel how you take me in?"

"Yes, my prince," she gasped, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "I feel it."

Aemond's pace quickened slightly, his control slipping as his own desire took precedence. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic, primal music that spoke of need and release. Her moans grew louder, her body arching and pushing to meet his thrusts, seeking the pleasure that now consumed her.

With a sudden, possessive grip, Aemond's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. His lips found her skin, teeth grazing lightly before he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to claim. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her body responding with an involuntary clench around his cock.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her. "Take me, all of me," he whispered, his voice filled with approval and satisfaction. 

She surrendered to the sensations, her body melting into his as pleasure overwhelmed her. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word from Aemond drove her closer to the edge. The discomfort was a distant memory now, replaced by a wave of ecstasy that built with each passing second. His movements so erratic, his stones clapped against her womanhood with every harsh push, slapping against her bud in a steady, unyielding rhythm.

The sensation pushed her over the edge, her own climax washing over her in a powerful, all-consuming wave. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Finally, with a deep, guttural moan, Aemond drove himself to the hilt inside her once more, his body shuddering and then withdrawing quickly as he found his release and coated her buttocks and thighs with his pearly spend.

They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, their bodies still joined. Slowly, Aemond released his grip on her hair and hips, his hands soothing over the marks he'd left. He pulled out of her velvety walls gently, leaving her feeling both spent and fulfilled.

She expected him to leave, to gather his clothes and slip away into the night, as most men often do with a flick of their coin into her lap. But instead, Aemond surprised her. He curled into her body, his head resting against her chest. His lips found her breast, mouthing at her skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of their earlier encounter. His hand moved to her other breast, caressing it with a gentle, almost reverent touch.

She looked down at him, her fingers threading through his silver, moonlit hair. He seemed to take more pleasure in this simple intimacy than she did, as if seeking comfort rather than mere satisfaction. His eyes were closed, his breathing steadying as he continued to nuzzle her chest.

"I hate it," he murmured after a long silence, his voice muffled against her skin.

She blinked, unsure of his meaning. "Hate what, my prince?"

Aemond shifted slightly, his hand stilling on her breast. "Sometimes, I think Madame Sylvi just says anything to appease me. She tells me what she thinks I want to hear, not what she truly believes."

There was a bitterness in his tone that caught her off guard. "Why do you think that?" she asked softly, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.

Aemond's grip on her breast tightened slightly, and she felt a shiver of unease. His lips brushed against her nipple, then his teeth grazed it, sending a jolt through her body. "Because it's easier for her," he said, his voice lower, more dangerous. "Because I'm a prince, and she fears offending me."

She gasped softly at the sensation, the mix of pleasure and pain reminding her of the precarious balance between comfort and control. "But you deserve honesty, my prince," she managed to say, her voice trembling.

He bit down a little harder, enough to make her wince. "Do I?" he asked, his tone a warning. "Or do I deserve the truth, no matter how it feels?"

Her heart raced, the threat in his words unmistakable. "The truth, my prince," she whispered, trying to maintain her composure. "Always the truth."

Aemond's teeth released her nipple, his tongue soothing the sting. He looked up at her, his eye fierce and unyielding. The sapphire lodged in the other piercing and dark. 

"Good," he said, his voice a soft growl. "Because I have no patience for lies, no matter how pretty they are."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[smutoperator]

Call Me Jen

Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

Tags: A2M, anal creampie, anal whore, big dick worship, butt plug, cheating, dirty talk, escort, finger-fucking, fisting, gape, hotel room, pornstar experience, riding, squirting, sugar daddy, uncut cock

Word Count: 4992

Yunjin wasn't feeling well today. Her boyfriend had cheated on her. All that while she was in the middle of the latest Le Sserafim comeback performances. She needed someone to help her with her frustrations.

You, on the other hand, were just chilling until you received a text message.

"Can we have sex tonight?" Yunjin asked. "Aren't you dating?" you replied back. "Well, yeah, but my boyfriend is a cheating asshole," she replied. "You know what? The best way to forget a cheating asshole is to get fucked in the asshole," you replied. "Then, let's find a quiet place so you can fuck me in the asshole," she said.

You gave Yunjin the address of your favorite 5-star hotel. "Arrive by yourself; tell the front desk you'll be my companion. And don't forget to bring a fake ID not to raise suspicions from those media vultures," you told her. "I'll be there later at night," you said. 

"I need better assurances than just words after that asshole broke my heart," Yunjin said. "I'll give you the best assurance, money; if you want to have sex with me so bad, I'm gonna reward you like the high-end hooker that you are," you tell her as you give her a proof of deposit in her bank account. "Sure," she said.

Yunjin arrives at the empty room, playing with herself in a one-piece dress. She is feeling a little tired due to the recent comeback performances, but the spatious bed is perfect for her to get some rest and touch herself with no one bothering her. She plays with her tits, fingers her pussy, and last but not least, gapes her ass, preparing herself for a special night.

It's nearly 11 PM, and you have yet to arrive. Yunjin still waits. Either way, she's already got the money. She messages you showing her outfit for tonight, a pink lingerie with a shiny butt plug decorated with pink sapphires shoved in her asshole just to the side of her thong strip. "I'll be there in a couple minutes," you say.

You arrive at the room, finding Yunjin already in a primed position, her body bent over into her bed as you see her exposed fat ass before you even get to see her face. "Nice plug you got in there," you tell her.

"What is inside of it is even nicer," Yunjin says, teasing you the gape move she did during that Unforgiven choreography, placing her long nails right in her buttcheeks. Rumor has it she's got the best gape in the whole industry, so you wanted to test it. She keeps teasing you, finally showing her face as she bites her fingers, before bouncing her ass up in the air a few times, the feeling in the air akin to one of those raw porn scenes filmed in a very dark room.

Yunjin puts her ass further up as she puts her face in the bed, teasing you about her pussy, which you assume is as pink as the fabric she's wearing to cover it. She quickly answers that question to you, pulling her panties to the side and showing off her pussy.

"Ready for a pornstar experience, baby?" Yunjin asks. Using just her middle and index fingers, she puts them between the butt plug's notch, teasing you as she pushes it in and out of her asshole until she takes it completely off, only to push it back in again shortly after. She closes her eyes and winks her still small gape at you, giving you a smile when you come close to her face and then proceeding to lick the plug.

"My asshole is hella tasty," Yunjin says to you. "It'll be even tastier with my cock inside it," you say to her. "I can only hope," she replies.

Yunjin keeps teasing you, licking her plug. She turns around and takes her panties off, pleasing herself as her long nails hit her clit. Yunjin tastes herself, showing off her perfect dick-sucking lips.

"Let me see that pussy," you say, taking your clothes off, kissing Yunjin, and replacing her hands into her cunt. The good massage you give it makes Yunjin's pussy throb and pulsate, anticipating your cock in there.

"Ohhhhh, fuckkkkk," Yunjin softly whispers as you insert a pair of fingers in her cunt. "You wanna fill every inch of my pussy and my asshole?" she asks. You let your fingers answer the question for yourself, pushing them deeper in Yunjin's pussy. "Oh yes, baby, FUCKKKKKKKk," she moans, her legs trembling as she adds an extra pressure fingering her clit while you finger-fuck her cunt.

"Wanna be my little prostitute tonight? Ride that cock like a pornstar?" you ask her. "YES, BABY, I WANNA BE YOUR LITTLE WHORE, YOUR LITTLE FUCKING PROSTITUTE; I LOVE BEING A WHORE," Yunjin screams. "I love having my holes used like fleshlight and pounded like a pornstar," she continues.

"How hard are you gonna use my asshole, baby?" Yunjin asks. "You'll know that soon, baby," you say to her. "But first, I need you to take all these clothes off and let me worship that pussy," you tell her.

Yunjin obliges as she pulls her bra to the side and shows you her perky tits. "Oh my God, yes, eat my pussy; get it ready for your cock; that's what I want, fuckkkkk," she says as you dive her face into her pink hole.

"Get it nice and wet; make my pussy feel good," Yunjin whispers as you work your tongue and finger simultaneously inside her pussy, getting your fingers wet. "You have that asshole stretched out already; put your fingers in there," Yunjin says, showing you her insatiable anal kink.

You put both your index and middle fingers on Yunjin's anus. "Oh my God," you say as Yunjin's butthole surprises you, acting as if it is like a cosmic black hole that sucks everything in its vicinity. If it was behaving like that just with your fingers, can you imagine when you put your cock in there? "Look how gaped it is already, holy shit," you say to her.

You give Yunjin's butthole a trial run as you pump your fingers in and out of it. Your cock is probably twice as large, and those fingers are already doing some nice damage. "Ohhhhhh, fuckkkkkk," Yunjin enjoys it.

"I can't wait to feel that cock in my asshole," Yunjin says as you keep poking it with your fingers. She gives you a massive smile as you toy with her butthole, making her let out a big scream. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS" as she starts squirting just with the anal stimulation you provide her.

"Taste it, taste it, taste it," Yunjin begs as you sniff her pussy. You then lie on the bed, your already massive erection pointing up and waiting for her to suck it. "I can't wait to use this cock," Yunjin says. "I wanna do whatever I want with this big fucking cock," she continues as she licks your shaft and you seize the opportunity to spank her sexy ass.

Yunjin gets on top of you as you two start performing a 69. You love how long her legs are and how they wrap around your face. She coats your shaft with her saliva and massages your balls before taking that microphone deep in her throat. "I'm gonna get it very wet," she says.

You can't resist and start thrusting upwards against Yunjin's slutty face. But she clearly wins this round. "Fuck," you scream, unable to beat her magic throat as she just dives it deeper into your shaft, jering it off in triumph. "YESSSSS!" she yells. More saliva covers your cock as you find out Yunjin is truly a nasty spitter.

"That uncut cock is going to feel so good deep in my asshole," Yunjin says as she sucks it further and slaps it in her face, her tongue sticking out in glee. You try to push her head further down your shaft, but once again she takes it like a champion.

"Let me look at that pretty face sucking my big fat cock," you tell Yunjin, turning around in the bed, letting her kneel in front of your body to suck your cock. With you watching, she turns up a notch, bobbing her head even faster trying to prove herself for her sole audience.

"You're so hot working on that dick, don't fucking stop," you tell Yunjin, trying to fuck her face once again only to see her come out on top once more. You get up and start sucking her tits while she masturbates herself. "Enough, just get on top of that cock," you say to her.

"Right there," Yunjin says as your cock enters her pussy. "Oh my God, your cock is so fucking thick, it's twice the size of my asshole boyfriend," Yunjin says. "Such a giant fucking cock stretching my pussy open, that's what I want," she continues.

You wrap your arms around Yunjin's body and thrust upwards against her cunt, determined to destroy it. "YES, POUND THAT PUSSY, I WANT EVERY FUCKING INCH OF THAT COCK," she yells, leaning down as your bodies get closer and she gets her cunt stretched out.

"Take that cock, you fucking whore," you say to her. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Yunjin screams, but quickly regains control and starts twerking on that big dick. "SPANK MY ASS WHILE I RIDE THAT COCK," she demands, getting really loud as you hit her pale cheeks with your heavy hands.

"Fuck every fucking inch of my fucking pussy, yes, yes, yes," Yunjin drops tons of f-bombs as she bounces on your cock. "Go slow, you fucking slut, don't make me fucking cum yet," you have to ask her as Yunjin is very energetic riding your cock.

Yunjin slows down, switching to straighter and longer bounces. "That's right, you dirty fucking whore," you say to her. She then starts grinding. "You're so deep inside me, just stuff that whole dick in my pussy," she begs. "YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, FUCKKKKKK," she screams as her pussy juices drip down, her walls clenching harder when you tap her ass shortly after.

As Yunjin tastes herself from your cock, she's already thinking about her next move. "Fuck, I wanna feel this thick cock in my ass," she says. "Then come feel it," you say, getting her body sideways as you prepare to insert that huge prick in her anus at a spooning position.

"Show me that pink asshole," you tell her. "I need your cock in it, please," Yunjin begs. "Right there, right there," she repeats as you slide it in her butthole. "Tell me you want it," you say to her. "Yes, I want this fucking cock, please," she answers.

You thrust fast into Yunjin's asshole in spooning position as she puts her finger in her pussy. "Ohhhh yeahhhhh," she moans as she gives you a big smile. "Make me your little anal whore, yessss," she says as you keep pumping it. "Take it as deep as you can get it; I want every inch of it in my ass, every fucking inch," she begs.

"Stuff that thick cock right in my asshole," Yunjin demands as you stop thrusting and grab her tits while digging deeper and deeper into her anus. "Oh my God, make me take it, fuck," she says as you resume pounding it, trying to push all your nine inches inside it. "I want you to use me like the total whore I am," she says. 

"USE ME, DADDY, FUCK MY ASSHOLE," Yunjin screams as you increase the heat up her butt. "FUCK MY ASSHOLE, DADDY," she keeps screaming. "Shut your fucking mouth, you prostitute," you tell her, putting your hands over it.

But the last thing Yunjin wants is to stay quiet. "STRETCH THAT ASS, GAPE ME," she screams as soon as you start choking her and hammering her even harder. "This fucking ass is made to be fucked," she tells you.

You slow down and appreciate Yunjin's tight butthole. "You're so fucking good in my ass," she says, kissing you and switching up into more of a girlfriend experience. But quickly she goes back to being her usual whore self. "I don't want you to stop; I want you balls fucking deep in my ass," she says shortly after.

"Give me the whole thing, AHHHHH," Yunjin says before she puts her hands in her mouth and covers it. You manhandle her butthole hard while simultaneously finger-fucking her cunt and making juices rain out of her pussy.

"Stay there," Yunjin says, keeping your cock in her ass. She gets up and climbs on top of your body, sitting on your cock in reverse cowgirl and giving you a perfect view of her sexy ass. "Right there in my ass, daddy," she says, letting you grab her legs and thrust upwards into her butt.

"I love to feel every inch of it in my ass," Yunjin says as she starts riding your big dick. "I want to bounce up and down that cock with my ass until I die," she says. "My asshole is made for that big cock," she continues to talk while bouncing.

"FUCK IT, FUCK IT HARD, DADDY," Yunjin commands as you pound her hard up her butt. "POUND MY FUCKING ASSHOLE," she keeps saying as you now reach your hands to finger her pussy and make her eyes roll with so much pleasure. "FUCK ME AS HARD YOU CAN," she screams, challenging you to destroy her to the fullest.

"Don't make me cum yet, your fucking prostitute," you say, shoving Yunjin's body off of your cock as you nearly fill her ass already. You have been with her for just 15 minutes, but you paid for 30 and want to survive up to it. Yunjin slaps your cock in her face, very satisfied. "Looks like I'm a great fucking prostitute, aren't I, daddy?" she asks.

"My asshole tastes so fucking good in this cock," Yunjin says as she starts savoring your meat. "Stroke with that pretty mouth; you're so good sucking dick," you tell her as Yunjin takes your cock deeper in her throat. "How many fucking cocks have you used like that?" you ask her. "Not enough," Yunjin answers.

"So you like to cheat on your boyfriend before he even cheated on you? What a whore," you say to her face. "Yes, daddy, I can't help myself; I'm a true addict to cock in my ass," Yunjin replies to you.

"Don't worry, I'll give more of it, but first I need to stroke that dick in your naughty tongue," you tell her, jerking off as she licks the tip of your uncut cock every time it emerges out of your foreskin.

"Look what a fucking whore you are," you say to Yunjin. "Now, show me that asshole," you ask her. Yunjin turns around and spreads her cheeks for you to shove your cock back in it. "That pink butthole is so pretty," you tell her right before spitting on it and shutting it down with your massive cock.

"Damn, you're so tight, you fucking bitch," you tell her as you go back into manically thrusting up and down her ass. "Yes, daddy, I want to be one of your favorite fuckholes," you tell her. "It's gonna be a tough competition; I fucked a few of your groupmates, and I can tell they are quite big anal whores too," you tell her, bragging about your perfect nights with the other Le Sserafim girls.

You mount on top of Yunjin to properly use her. "Tell me how you want it," you say to her. "I WANT IT BALLS FUCKING DEEP," Yunjin screams as you stretch her butt out. "GIVE ME WHAT I WANT, THAT BIG THICK COCK BALLS DEEP IN MY ASSHOLE, YESSSSS. BURY IT IN ME, DADDY, BURY THAT FUCKING DICK IN MY ASS, YOU'RE MAKING ME DROOL" she continues to yell as she fingers her pussy and starts coating the bedsheets with her squirt.

"HARDER, DADDY, PLEASE." Yunjin keeps begging, as the only thing preventing you from stuffing your balls up her butthole is the tightness of it. You give her no breaks and pound her hard, fast, and balls deep just as she asks.

"Show me that hole," you tell Yunjin as you pull out of her ass. She spreads her cheeks, showcasing the massive gape you left in her pink anus. "Open it for me," you order as Yunjin spreads her butthole out and shows off her pounded guts to you. "I love when you do it; let me put my fucking tongue in it," you tell her, licking her asshole.

"Oh fuck, daddy, your tongue feels so good in my asshole," Yunjin says to you as you also start to sniff her dirty butthole. You effortlessly put your cock back in it, as her asshole is already so stretched out it offers little resist to your shaft, pounding her now at a straight angle.

"Put that dick where it belongs," Yunjin says as you resume pounding her. Queefing sounds start to come out of her asshole as you put her on the verge of achieving an anal orgasm. You pound her ass, but her pussy lips are now also parting in half, letting all the fluids flow out of Yunjin's body as she gets anally destroyed.

Yunjin cums all over the besheets as you enjoy the pink gape in her anus right after pulling out. "Fuck, that's too pretty," you say it again. "You like this pretty asshole, daddy?" she asks. "Yes, it's so beautiful and swallows up my cock with such ease," you reply.

Yunjin is so horny she starts fisting her entire hand up her butthole. "Oh, fuck," she moans as each of her long fingers disappears one by one inside her anus. "Oh my god, you really want to stretch that ass to the fullest for me," you say as you watch Yunjin put her arm all the way up to her wrist inside her asshole, even fitting the pair of bracelets she's wearing all the way down it.

"That fucking asshole is made to take cocks," Yunjin flaunts about it as she keeps fisting herself and teasing you. Watching Yunjin squirt as she puts her arm up, her anus is so beautiful. "Don't stop, keep going," you motivate her. "I love that," you say just as Yunjin finishes it and leaves her hand up her mouth to enjoy more of the taste of her asshole.

Yunjin keeps teasing her anus for you, fisting it, winking it, and gaping it multiple times. "It's so fucking made for anal," she says while doing it, building up your desire to get back inside it. "All I want now is to be your anal whore, daddy," she adds.

You fulfill Yunjin's wish and, with no warning, shove your cock back in her asshole. "OH MY GOD, FUCKKKKK," she soon screams. "I'M SO ADDICTED TO YOUR COCK, IT'S LIKE A FUCKING DRUG," she keeps going as you treat her butthole like a jerkoff fleshlight.

"I love how you make me your personal fuckhole, daddy," Yunjin says as you increase the pace even further. "I'M YOUR FUCKHOLE, I'M YOUR FUCKHOLE, YES, YES, YES," she screams nonstop.

"Wanna sit on that dick?" you ask Yunjin after you're finished drilling her. "Of course," she says. "Then turn around and show me that ass; I want to see it getting impaled by my big fat cock," you tell her.

"Perfect," you say as Yunjin slides your cock up her butthole and starts twerking on it. You slap her cheeks, which she interprets as a code to go harder. "Fuck, I love this so much," you say as she starts spreading them out while bouncing on it.

"You want to cum in that tight little fucking asshole, don't you, daddy?" Yunjin asks as she picks up the pace. "Definitely," you tell her. "Look how I take this whole fucking thing in my ass; isn't it good, daddy?" She keeps asking, but you can only groan, trying to hold your composure not to cum as her butthole clenches all over that dick.

"You've got such a perfect asshole," you compliment Yunjin while giving her butt a couple extra slaps as she stays bouncing on your cock. "And you've got such a perfect way to fuck it, daddy," she responds. "Fuck my ass hard while I play with my pussy; make me squirt all over these bedsheets," she continues.

You thrust up Yunjin's butt once again, making her cheeks clap. "Come taste more of that asshole, baby," you say once you're finished. Yunjin slowly pulls your cock out, only to surprise you with an insane deepthroat that drives you crazy, then playing with your shaft and sucking it like a lollipop, spitting all over it like a good whore playing with her personal toy. 

"I love to stuff that cock down my pretty mouth the way you stuffed it up my ass," Yunjin says as she gets very sloppy with your prick, bobbing her head on it while grabbing your balls and making it throb. 

Yunjin uses the spit on your dick to lube it and sits on it shortly after, this time with her face turned to you. But better yet, her squirting cunt facing you and giving you easy access to finger it, hoping for a gush so intense that it hits your face.

You quickly show Yunjin who's in control and fuck her hard even with her tall body on top of yours. Her pussy slowly starts to get wetter, her tits bounce, and her eyes roll. "Yessssssss," she moans hard. "Your asshole is so good, still so fucking tight after all that gaping," you tell her. 

"OH, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM," Yunjin screams as she puts her hands in her cunt and starts fingering it. "FUCK, I'M CUMMING WITH THAT BIG COCK IN MY ASS, AHHHH," she says shortly after, rewarding you with a huge gush of her juice right as your face, just like you wanted it. "God, I love how you make me cum by fucking my asshole," Yunjin praises you shortly after.

Yunjin takes a little break to recover, riding your cock at a very slow pace. "Look at those slow and deep strokes all the way down my asshole; aren't they sexy, daddy?" she asks.

"They make you look like a prostitute, an anal whore," you tell her. "Hmmm, I love looking like an anal whore, daddy," Yunjin says, grinding on your cock just as you grab her neck and choke her. "Don't stop it; keep grinding, you fucking slut," you demand as you reach into her tits and pinch her nipples. Yunjin moans full of pleasure and then shares a few kisses with you. "Good girl, I'm gonna reward you for that," you say to her.

You put Yunjin in a missionary position in bed and push her long legs over her head, inserting your cock back in her ass for another round, pounding her balls deep on an anal mating press while she fingers herself. "Ohhhhh, fuckkkk," a submissive Yunjin moans. "You fuck my little asshole so fucking perfectly, daddy," she says.

"You're such a nasty, worthless whore," you degrade Yunjin while spanking and fucking her butt. "YES, I AM YOU ANAL WHORE, DADDY. THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO BE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE," Yunjin answers screaming.

"Then spread that hole for me to see it again; I bet your boyfriend can't gape it the way I do," you tell Yunjin. "Yes, daddy, only you gape me like that," she replies, winking her butthole and telling you she wants more.

You destroy Yunjin's ass much to her enjoyment. She loves it, playing with her gaping butthole again and stretching it wide. "Tell me how much you love your big fucking cock taking this beautiful pink asshole, daddy," she says. You tell her by flipping Yunjin around and appreciating her asshole with more tonguing and sniffing, just how she likes it, and making her cum once again all over the bedsheets.

"Taste my asshole after you fucked it; admire the work your big cock did on it," Yunjin says to you. "Damn, you got the most perfect butthole I've seen," you tell her. "You say that to every whore you fuck in the ass, don't you, daddy?" Yunjin giggles and pokes fun of you.

"Spread that hole; I ain't done fucking that ass," you tell her, pushing your cock back inside Yunjin at a prone bone position and pushing her body hard against the already very wet bedsheets. "Look at this hole; it's so fucking hot," you say as you plow Yunjin into oblivion, enjoying her sexy moans. You love stretching her out so much that you insert your fingers alongside your cock in her ass. "Hmmm, I love it, daddy, always wanted to have two in my ass at the same time," Yunjin says.

"How much can you take, you fucking whore?" you ask Yunjin as you shove your middle finger deeper in her anus. "As much as you want to, daddy, spread me open and fuck me harder; spread that slutty hole open; hit me right in that fucking asshole," she begs. You do just that, leaving your mark all over Yunjin's ass.

"Damn, it's so fucking perfect," you're all praising about Yunjin's butthole. You put her ass up and grab what is still left of Yunjin's lingerie to control her while you pound her ass, treating her like a toy.

"FUCK IT, DADDY, SHOW ME HOW THAT ASS IS BUILT TO TAKE BIG COCKS," Yunjin begs as you destroy her. That's who she is, a prostitute, an anal whore; the only difference between her and a pornstar is that she whores herself while the cameras are off, but fucking her is indeed a top-notch pornstar experience similar to some of the best anal queens.

"In and out, daddy, toy with my fucking butthole," Yunjin demands as you tease her with your cock going back and forth in and out of her anus. "Now gape me open, gape my fucking asshole," she begs once you thrust hard back in, using her to the fullest.

"Holy fuck," you get shocked at the size of the gap you imprinted on Yunjin as she spreads her cheeks open. You might be able to fit a tennis ball in there considering how wide it is.

But you aren't done, turning Yunjin around for another round as you want to gape her butthole even further. She fingers herself and asks to be split open and fucked hard. You do just as she asks, ramming her ass with all your intensity. "That's still not enough, you fucking whore?" you ask her, now choking Yunjin with both hands.

"NO DADDY, IT'S NOT ENOUGH, I WANT YOU TO POUND ME UNTIL YOU FUCKING FILL MY ASS WITH YOUR THICK CUM," Yunjin screams as she starts squirting once again with her fingers all over her cunt. "I'm gonna do that, but first I'm going to play a little more with you, whore," you say.

You stick your fingers up Yunjin's squirting cunt before moving them to fist her asshole. "Is that what you want, whore? A fucking gaped and fisted butthole?" you ask her. "YES, DADDY, THAT'S WHAT I WANT, EVEN BETTER IF IT'S FULL OF YOUR CUM," she says. 

"Cum in my asshole, cum in my fucking asshole; that's what I want; please, use this fucking asshole to cum," Yunjin says. "You wanna see this fucking asshole stretched wide open for you?" she asks, doing the fisting now.

"Put it right back in, daddy, show how much you want to use this fucking gaping asshole to cum," Yunjin moans. You jerk your cock off, teasing her. "Stoke that fucking cock and cum in my asshole; make it your little personal cumhole," Yunjin begs and moans as you slide it right back in it for one last round.

Just a couple thrusts are enough for you to fill Yunjin's butthole with your load. She loves it and fists her ass in search of that cum, scooping it with her hands and tasting it. "My asshole is so delicious," she tells you as your cum can't stop leaking from her anus. "Maybe I need to push it deeper," you say, inserting your cock for a little extra fucking. "Yes, daddy, fuck that cum all the way deep into my ass," Yunjin celebrates.

Epilogue

Yunjin puts her butt plug back in as she treasures your cum in her hole. "Fuck, I'm just so full of cum now," she says. "You're now my anal cumwhore, my sugar baby, Yunjin," you tell her. "Yes, daddy, that's what I am; by the way, you can call me Jen," she says.

"Hmmm, Jen and Michelle, that's a nice pair of sugar babies," you tell her.

"Michelle?" A confused Yunjin asks just as someone opens the door of the hotel room.

"Speaking of the devil," you say.

"Looks like you two had a lot of fun in there," Chaewon says. "Indeed we had; wanna go next, Michelle?" you ask her.

"We could do this together, couldn't we?" Chaewon asks. "Her ass is probably too sore for that, but she can use her mouth to help me fuck your ass," you tell Chaewon.

"Deal," the bob girl answers as she takes her clothes off, spreads her ass and you put your cock in there. The night has just gotten even more perfect.

"Let's see if you can be a bigger anal whore than me, Michelle," Yunjin challenges Chaewon as you dig deeper into the older girl's asshole.

"You know what? Let's call Kkura and Zuha too and settle this for good," Chaewon replies.

It looks like we're gonna have an anal whore competition here.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Top of the Food Chain

I've always wanted to continue my naga!mha fic but considering i dont write for deku+co anymore, i decided to move my au a couple fandoms over:D 1.8k wc

Part two , Part three

(Warnings: animal deaths, blood, obsession, dark content, slight gun threat but not rlly, polyamory, gender ambigious!reader) 

Despite being here for nearly a week, you still don't think Satoru understood how delicate you are. 

He's overbearing, in that sense. Constantly poking and prodding and squeezing until your lungs give and you're forced to squeak. You can't blame him for not understanding. He's an animal, after all. Inhuman. Despite his skin and hair, the scales coating his tail give away just how different he is. He was probably born fighting, kicking, and screeching his way through the foliage, hunting, chewing, and biting. 

He's not like you when all you knew when you were younger was coddling and softness. You can see it in his scars, and bruises, and marks. 

Luckily, for you, Suguru had an inkling that you weren't made for sharp claws. 

It's not a fight, you can tell when they're fighting, it's more like a warning? A minor disagreement. Suguru hisses at the other naga, scrunching up his face, showing his teeth. Satoru is quick to respond, but a little more playful. Fortunately for you, the black-haired male seems to win the argument. Satoru's coils loosen around you. Air stops fighting its way to get into your lungs. 

You finally go lax in his hold. Satoru seems to enjoy that, dipping his head to bury his face into the base of his neck. The first few times he did that, you were afraid he was trying to bite off your jugular. Now, you think it's just another way he can soak up your body heat. 

Maybe you've been here for longer than a week. At this point, you couldn't really tell. Hope that you'd be found was starting to slowly fizzle away. The explosion had been massive. The ship had sunk in a matter of minutes. With a disaster that huge, you doubt anyone would still be looking for survivors. Especially on an uncharted island, where myth had turned into reality. 

 Satoru had been the one you'd woken up to. Washed ashore, barely conscious. You were half-certain he was planning on eating you with the way he held your leg, watching your muscles bend and turn. In his defense, he must have thought you were dead. Your shrill scream quickly convinced him otherwise. 

It was barely a fight. More or less, a pathetic kidnapping as he grabbed your body, slinging it over his shoulder. You've never remembered screaming and crying so loudly before, convinced you were about to be eaten. Suguru probably heard you before he saw you. 

Satoru's mate was a little less impressed with you. Back then, they didn't bother learning your tongue, speaking in hisses and snarls, unaware of your misery. Suguru's frown was glued on his face, but the naga never let you run away, always keeping a hand or a tail on you at all times. It was a rough first day; you didn't know they weren't interested in eating you until they tried to feed you. 

Things were much different back then Nowadays, they are a lot more considerate of yourself and your soft body. You think you've come to an understanding with these strange creatures. 

Suguru was the nicest out of the two. In that, you mean the least rough. Compared to his counterpart, he's a bit smaller, but that's not saying there's any real difference. If it comes down to it, you are more than certain he'd be able to kill you off as quickly as his mate. You thought he hated you, at first. Now, you think he has a hard time showing blatant affection. His touches typically come in the dead of night, when you're barely conscious. A clawed finger gently raking over your soft skin. Large hands sculpting your face. 

Satoru's eyes were the first thing you noticed about him. Glittering like blue sapphires. You had a feeling they weren't just for show. Time and time again he's proven that he can see better than Suguru could. He smiles a lot more, but you're starting to wonder if that expression translates across species. He can speak your tongue slightly better than Suguru could. It most likely has to do with his insistence on staying with you. The more time you spend with him, the more you have to say 'No' 'Don't touch there' 'Stop'. 

In the rare times you manage to escape their hold, you like watching them interact with each other. They often sunbathe for hours, lazing around hot rocks to soak in the heat. They like touching each other. Sometimes it's aggressive, like when Satoru chomps on Suguru's neck and you're suddenly much more aware of how careful he is with you. Other times it's: soft, unintentional, meaningless. Languid cuddling when you are finally able to braid Suguru's hair. 

At this point, you've surmised they won't eat you. At least, not for the moment. You don't exactly know what they think of you. Do they have the concept of pets in their worldview? Maybe that's the closest thing you can place yourself as, at least in their eyes. They must think you're helpless. To them, you have no claws, no fangs, no venom. They probably don't know you come from a species that's hunted others to extinction and currently burning down the planet. You must be the first time they've ever seen your kind, stripped away from your weapons, when you're the least dangerous. 

"You should be more scared of me, you know," you once whispered to Suguru in the dead of night.

He was dozing off, blearily keeping his eyes open to stare at your moving lips. There was a grunt behind you, and Satoru tightened his arms across your waist. Greedy for affection, even in his sleep.

"Humans are terrifying," you said, reaching out to touch, "top of the food chain."

Suguru had smiled at that. You found yourself smiling back.

"You're lucky I didn't have a gun on me. You probably don't even know what that is." It's dark humor to press two fingers into his forehead. Your way of coping maybe.

Or perhaps your actions prove that humans will always desire to be violent, no matter how perilous their fight may be.

"Bang." He leans into your touch, unafraid. Oblivious to the threat that you are.

You're guessing Satoru only let you go because of the food Suguru brought.

You're able to feel the ground again as he glides over to Suguru having just come back from a successful hunt. The carcass of the largest deer you've ever seen is slung across his back. The smell of blood already makes you nauseous. 

You think Suguru had been the most panicked when you refused to eat, clicking and cooing while he tried to force-feed you the bloody leg of a bear. Back then, your communication was even worse than it was now. You were smeared in crimson by the time he relented. Practically dripping in it. 

Now, Suguru knows you have different tastes than them. You're not a big fan of raw. The fish and the handful of berries are more than enough to sate you as you gather the items he's given in your hands. 

"Thank you," you say. You reach out, touching his face with warm fingers. He purrs into your touch. You smile. It's the least gratitude you can give him. After all, he's not asking for much. If they hadn't found you, you would have been dead long ago, or at least, significantly less weaker. It's the least you can do. 

For a moment, you delude yourself into thinking they were your pets. It'd certainly be easy too. They have little to no regard for personal boundaries, much like dogs. They're more animalistic than they are human. 

It's funny to think of these monsters as lovable pets.

"Thank you," Suguru repeats. You giggle. It's not like they actually understand you. It's simple mimicry. Like talking to a parrot. 

"Thank you!" Satoru chirps, never one to be left out. He pushes his mate out of the way, eager for your pets as well. Suguru hisses, but doesn't argue. You've learned they like to be scratched right there on the bottoms of their chins. 

Suguru's less obvious, but Satoru has no desire to pretend. He melts into you, practically slumping his weight into your weak hold. It's a little adorable actually. You give a little laugh. He seems even more pleased at that. 

They're fun to be around, but this can't last. You belong with other humans, far far away from this island. So far, you hadn't seen any boats in the horizon, but you hope one would come by soon. A plane would be even better. Close enough to give you hope. Maybe if you built a big enough fire, it'd reach someone eye. 

Hopefully, in just a few weeks, these creatures will be a very cherished memory. 

You frown when Satoru reaches over to grasp at your food, the meat specifically. You glare, moving away from his hold. He titters in clear disappointment. You hate seeing him sad but you already have so few food sources. It's best to conserve whatever you get. 

"No," you pointedly tell him, "It's mine. Mine." 

His frown deepens, and he opens his jaws to let his fangs pop out. 

"Mine," you repeat. 

He leans back, huffing. You laugh because you know his expression is more out of frustration than any actual anger. Again, animals. You pet his head in apology, before turning away. You'd have to start a tiny fire to start cooking. Raw fish is edible, but it's hardly desirable. 

A hand grabs yours, clawed, the grip is tight around your frail skin. When you look back, Satoru is staring at you. Eyes wide. Eager. 

"Mine," he says, but it's more like he's testing the word. Tasting it on his lips. 

You scoff, unamused. "That's my arm. Not yours." 

Satoru smiles. Sharp teeth. You suddenly remember he's a carnivore. 

He's slow when he draws you in, practically dragging you into his arms. You're used to his spontaneous hugs, tight and suffocating. You can't fight him off, so you typically wait until Suguru has enough of his behavior and drags him off you. 

"Mine," Satoru repeats. Alarm bells ring in your head but it's easy to brush them off. It's mimicry. They can't understand. It's like talking to a parrot. 

You feel the weight of the other naga at your back. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you against Satoru's chest. You stiffen when Suguru's fangs lightly graze up your neck. Never quite punctures, but is terrifyingly close.

"Mine," Suguru says into your skin. 

You laugh again, but it comes out less hesitant. More airy. Amid their hold, a sudden thought comes to you.

If you weren't at the top of the food chain anymore, then who was?

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part five) 18+

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

The reader decides to give Aemond a proper goodbye - one that befits what became of the bond they share.

themes/warnings: smut (minors dni) - a bitter breakup roll in the hay, jealous and possessive and idiotic Aemond

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Aegon's jeering from the great hall has barely subsided before you harshly pull yourself away from Aemond's hold.

"Seven fucking hells, Aemond," you exclaim, your voice ringing in the empty hallway. "Why did you do that? Why must you humiliate me in such a way?"

"You humiliate me," he spits, matching your venom, "by declaring yourself as betrothed to that snivelling bastard."

"He is no bastard," you seethe, your finger poking at his chest. "He is a gentle Lord, and a far more decent man than you will ever be. And I am certain that he will honour me when he soon becomes my Lord husband."

"No." Aemond lurches forward, cradling your face with both hands. There is pressure to his hold - he is letting his anger take over him. "No, my love," he repeats, softer, his shoulders releasing their tension.

Your resolve falters at his words. They used to be a thing you would spin in your mind, over and over, an endless song to sing. My love. "You cannot me call me that, Aemond," you murmur. "That is no longer true, if indeed it ever was."

"You doubt me so," he lowers his head, as if wounded.

But you do not have it in you to soften your approach. "You have given me every reason to doubt you, Aemond. I can no longer trust you. Not after Alys."

At the mention of her name, he is rendered alert, a wild look in his eye. "Yes. Alys."

"I do not wish to hear of her," you step away from him, but he only moves in your path.

"I have something to tell you, my love." He reaches for your hand, and you are too exhausted, too uncaring to fight back. "She has agreed to put an early end to our arrangement. Yet she will continue to aid our cause, ensuring that we win the war."

It seemed too good to be true. You are unable to believe that the witch would simply relinquish the power she has with Aemond. And you are proven correct when he adds, "But she presents one condition. I must give her a child."

The absurdity of it all makes your head spin, and suddenly your skirts weigh far too much for you to bear. Without realizing it, you lean into Aemond for support, seeking balance. He mistakes the gesture for approval - how foolish of him.

"That is ridiculous, Aemond," you croak harshly, your words coming out garbled.

"My love, what - "

"I am afraid you have lost me completely," you pull back, eyes darting around for reprieve. You cannot bring yourself to look at him, your gaze distant and hollow, fixated on nothing. With icy detachment, you murmur, "Go on, then. Wed her, if that is what you wish. Why stop at just making her the mother of your child?"

"You cannot mean that." He flinches at the suggestion.

Taking a deep breath, in finality, you declare, "We have to end whatever we have, Aemond. For both of our sakes. For the sake of your future children with Alys, and mine with Ramsay. We must part ways... and say goodbye."

His expression switches, desperation showing through the cracks in his mask of self-assuredness.

"No." He steps back, instantly rejecting your words. In his warped mind, the thought of separation is impossible. He could never leave you, and you could never leave him. That’s how it has always been, and how it always will be.

To his credit, he actually appears pained. For a moment, you see your Aemond. The only one you have ever loved. You are certain that his pain is reflected in you now.

You reach a hand out, and he tentatively accepts it.

Without a word, you lead him through the halls of the Red Keep.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"To my chambers," you reply firmly. "We both deserve a proper goodbye."

When you reach your destination, the unbearable weight of everything comes crashing down on you. This will be your true final moment with Aemond. You will never get to hold him, kiss him, feel him buried inside of you after this night.

On the morrow, he will be a stranger. He has to be.

He makes an attempt to speak, presumably to inquire upon your reasoning for taking him here. But you do not allow a word to slip past his lips, effectively silencing him with a searing kiss.

He melts unto you instantly, a soft moan escaping his throat as he welcomes your touch.

Your hands move instinctively to the fastenings of his tunic, deftly undoing them without breaking the kiss. He reaches down to come to your aid, his fingers brushing against yours, until the fabric slips from his shoulders and falls in a careless heap on the floor.

His tongue tangles with yours as his hands fumble with the ties on the back of your gown. A low growl escapes him when they don’t loosen as quickly as he'd like, his impatience growing - eager to have you, desperate to taste the sweetness he craves.

It does not much longer before the both of you are left completely bare, as naked as the day you were born. He kisses you hungrily, afraid that you might disappear if he lets go. That you might do good on your threat to leave him.

You push him backward until his heels hit the edge of your bed, causing him to land on his bottom on the sheets.

His hands grip your hips tightly as you stand between his thighs, and he gazes up at you with pure, unrestrained desire. The same way he always has, as if nothing else in the world exists but you.

In this fleeting moment, you will allow it. Nothing and no one else exists except for Aemond and yourself.

With a sharp nudge to his shoulder, he reclines willingly, lying flat on his back, arms held out, silently inviting you to press your body onto his.

You crawl slowly from the edge of the bed toward him, hovering above with lust smoldering in your eyes. He bites his lip at the sight, his erection pressing hard against your lower stomach. As you shift, the slick tip grazes your skin, leaving a heated trail in its wake.

He groans as you let his cock drag across your skin, pulling you close with a strained, "Māzigon kesīr, issa jorrāelagon."

Come here, my love.

The kiss is sloppy, he sucks at your lips while his hands roam the warmth of your body. Groping at your breasts, your hips, then the curve of your ass. He takes two fingers, travelling down your pelvis, until it feels the wetness of your clit. He fondles it eagerly, leaving you mewling softly, and the sounds turn into unbridled open-mouthed moans when his fingers dip inside your dripping cunt.

"Iksos bona sȳz?" he purrs, as he slides them faster in between your folds. Does that feel good?

"Y-yes, Aemond, fuck yes." You collapse on top of him fully, your breasts pressed against the side of his face, your body angled to grant his deft hand unhindered access as he strokes your pussy.

He turns his head to suck at your breasts, his tongue darting out to flick your nipple. His fingers quicken their pace, the squelching sounds blending with your lustful whimpers.

A silken sheen coats his digits, catching the lamplight as they slip out, only to plunge back inside with a deliberate, relentless rhythm.

"Let go, my love," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Allow me to savour the sight of your unraveling."

His words are intoxicating, and you can’t help but use his mouth to muffle your cries, your kisses fervent as you come undone. Your teeth graze his bottom lip as you reach your peak, the sensation of his warm breaths mingling with your gasps of heightened pleasure.

After a moment, as you slump against him, he licks his hand clean of your substance, his good eye darkened with wanton pleasure.

You trail a finger tantalizingly over his chest, lingering on his jaw before it gently glides across the apparatus covering his eye. He remains still, the act of baring himself to you as natural as breathing.

"Does she see you for who you truly are?" you whisper softly.

"No," he replies with a quiet intensity, "only you do, my love. For eternity."

Eternity, you bitterly think, if eternity ends on this night.

With a deliberate motion, you remove the eyepatch from his head and toss it aside. The sapphire in his eye socket gleams with a mesmerizing light, giving him an otherworldly glow.

"My Prince Aemond," you sigh, "my dragon. I am going to ride you until you forget her name."

"She does not matter to me - ahhhh, gods - " His words die in his throat as you align your still dripping cunt with his cock and sink down in one swift and merciless motion, taking him to the hilt until your ass is pressed against his flesh.

Without missing a beat, you continue to ride him with frantic intensity, your breasts bouncing as he forcefully bucks his hips to meet yours. He responds with guttural moans and fragmented words of praise - yes my love, fuck me, you fuck me so well, there is no one else, I love you, I love you, I love you.

"Does she fuck you as well as I?" you ask menacingly, the walls of your pussy clenching around him.

"No." He tilts his head back in sheer bliss. "She could never. When she... uses me... I feel hollow."

As you brace yourself on his chest, your hands gripping him for support, you quicken the pace, aiming for that sweet spot within. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, drawing every ounce of pleasure from his thick cock as you both lose yourselves in the raw, all-consuming passion of the moment.

When he starts to quiver, his length sputtering inside you in those quick, successive jerks, you know this is your cue to release him from your cunt. But this time, you lean forward as you dismount, and pat his cheek in the most patronising manner, saying, "Save your precious seed for Alys. Since she needs it so terribly."

Depraved as it might be, the wickedly cunning expression on your face proves to be Aemond's undoing, that cold glare sensuous to him. With a strangled cry, he erupts, his Targaryen seed spilling across the taut planes of his pelvis in hot, white streams.

His mouth is open in pleasure and surprise as he helps himself through his release, gripping and tugging his cock firmly through the throes of his release. His gaze remains fixed your face, his sole source of pleasure, though the furrow in his brow reveals that he heard your bitter jibe.

"What a waste," you click your tongue in disappointment, eyeing the mess he made.

He still lies there, naked and covered in his own release, as you swiftly pull on your slip dress, followed by the heavy cloak hanging over the chair in the corner.

The emotions that once swirled within you - desire, sadness, yearning - harden into a bitter mix of anger and resentment. This is his doing. It is his fault that tonight will be the last. The love you once shared, the tenderness you once felt, has been shattered by his own hand.

Turning to face him, you bend your knees into a mocking curtsy, an emotionless smile tugging at your lips. "My Prince," you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "If I may be excused. I must fetch my lady-in-waiting to help me into something more fitting. After all, I have a feast to return to... and my betrothed awaits."

Just as your hand touches the door, his desperate voice cuts through the silence, "Wait!" he pleads.

You pause, tears welling in your eyes as you turn ever so slightly. Your voice trembles, barely holding together as you say one last time -

"I love you, Aemond. Goodbye."

taglist (let me know in the comments if you wish to be added): @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstorms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ananas26t @iloveallmyboys @carriellie @summerposie @verycollectivecreator @toodlesxcuddles @brie-annwyl @dc-marvel-girl96 @bellstwd @bibli0thecary @happinessinthebeing @magnificentsapphiresoul @rorawinters @targaryen-madness @hanula18 @rhaenattargaryen @an0ther-us3r @sugurubabe @theshatteredideal @let-love-bleeds-red @s-we-e-t-t-ea @mydemimonde @the-intjs-dark-academic @heavenly1927 @anehkael @minttea07 @barnes70stark @cheneyq @cloudroomblog @neptuneiris @zaldritzosrose @oh-theseus

Some notes in the margins...

I should point out that in this story, Alys actually has magic and she has been instrumental in bringing about the victory of the Greens. Much like how she aided Daemon in season two, but dialled up to a hundred.

But no. That does not excuse Aemond's actions. Not at all.

Our bitter lovers needed their final, fucked up release. It is final for her, at least. But for Aemond?

[lavenderstobins]

Eddie’s in danger.

He knows he’s in danger because there is a four year old beelining for him, trying very hard to appear like she’s not rapidly advancing towards him.

When Josie finally stops, she’s right in front of him.

He has no idea what might’ve spurred this. Best to play it safe. “Hey, kiddo.”

Josie blinks innocently at him. “You broked Steve’s mug.”

Shit. The mug. It had been an accident—he’d balanced it too precariously when he’d been doing the dishes and it had slipped. They have plenty of mugs so it shouldn’t have been an issue, except… it was Steve’s lucky mug.

Steve loves that mug. He always drinks out of it if he needs the good luck that day and swears that it never fails him. If he sees it has broken, he’d take it as a sign of, like, the worst luck ever, and that would be the end of that.

The break had been clean, at least. The pieces are currently hidden away in a shoebox until he has time to get the glue to fix it. It’ll be an easy enough fix, so Steve should be none-the-wiser.

Except.

“The luck mug,” Josie continues, presumably trying to raise an eyebrow but instead raising both of her eyebrows high up her forehead. It takes everything inside him not to snort at the sight.

“I’m fixing it,” he replies. Maybe this can be a lesson about white lies, or doing good, or something. There’s probably a lesson here, right? “Steve won’t know it ever broke.”

Josie blinks up at him again. “Be shame if he did.”

Eddie’s smile fades. “What?”

“Be shame if Steve knew you broked his mug,” she repeats, fixing him with a stare that’s oddly reminiscent of Erica.

Is he… is he being blackmailed by a child?

“Josie,” he starts, leaning forward so that they’re eye-to-eye and taking on a desperate tone. “You can’t tell Steve, okay? Nobody can know about the broken mug.”

She sighs heavily. It would be comical if not for the way his heartbeat has increased.

“I know,” she says, shaking her head. “But maybe I not know.”

“Don’t know,” he corrects, then squints. “What do you mean?”

“I know you broked his mug, Deedee.” Her tone is serious. “For Baby Sapphire, I not know. Baby Sapphire make it go—” She mimes an explosion with her hands, puffing out her cheeks. ��Bye-bye.”

“Baby— What?”

Josie pulls out a crumpled catalogue page out of her pocket and holds it out. On it, in the corner, is a small, bug-eyed, blue plastic horse labelled Baby Sapphire. It’s the ugliest thing he’s ever seen. The nose isn’t even long enough for the horse to breathe. It’s like the pug of ponies.

Eddie looks up, meeting Josie’s pointed stare. It’s a battle he knows he’s already lost.

“Not a word,” he instructs, tucking the paper into his pocket. Josie brightens, beaming up at him, then skips away, merry as ever.

This is his life now. Blackmailed by a preschooler.

—

“Did you know Josie’s resorted to blackmail now?” Eddie says offhandedly. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter as Steve chops carrots, watching Josie play with her new toy from his view of the living room doorway.

“Earlier than I expected, honestly,” Steve says, not looking up. “What did she have on you?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, not on me.” Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “I watched her extort Mike earlier.”

Steve glances at him, frowning. “Mike’s been out of Hawkins for two days.”

Fuck.

“I think Robin’s calling for me, actually.” Eddie slides off the counter, backing away as Steve’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “I’d love to continue this conversation, but, duty calls.”

“Robin’s out with Max!” Steve calls as Eddie makes a hasty retreat to the living room. “You’re fooling nobody, babe!”

Josie looks up as Eddie closes the door behind him, ugly horse in hand. Moments later, Steve opens the door again, one hand on his hip.

“What did you do?” He swivels from Eddie to Josie. “Josie, sweetie, what did Deedee do?”

Eddie stares at Josie, practically feeling the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Josie shrugs, still playing. “I no know.”

He’s filled with relief. Steve doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure?” he presses. “It’s important to tell the truth, Josie.”

She stops, then, squinting up at him. “Always?”

“Always,” Steve confirms.

“Like when you said Bel eated Mama’s food but it was you?”

Steve falters, mouth falling open. A huge grin spreads across Eddie’s face.

“You what?” Eddie asks delightedly. “Stevie, you didn’t blame our cat for eating Robin’s leftovers!”

“Okay, you know what?” Steve holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back. “Keep your secrets. Let’s not ask questions anymore.”

Eddie’s already laughing, though. “Steve, Rob almost took Bel to the vet because she thought she’d eaten fried rice.”

“I know!”

“And you offered to drive her there!”

“I know!”

—

[now on ao3]

[plaguechyld]

Omggg finally a blog with dom reader instead of sub!! I'm so excited I don't know what to even request with all the thoughts in my head! I'm into power play, spanking, dumbification, praise kink and overstimulation. I can't think of a storyline but you can choose one of any of those kny characters (muzan, kokushibo, giyuu, yoriichi or kagaya ) thanks!

i’m glad you’re excited!! All of these are right up my alley too lol

first giyuu work of the blog?? Lets goooo (reader is uppermoon two along with douma)

cw: sub!giyuu, dom!gn!reader, demon!reader, uppermoon!reader, praise, spanking, dumbification, overstim, manhandling, crying, reader is said to have an angelic appearance, you/your used for reader, plot, fighting is flirting, reader has strap/cock (referred to has cock but can be interpreted at strap), demons can purr

This wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen, Giyuu was supposed to be in for a suicide mission, fighting uppermoon two alone.

The demon slayer had been confronted by the demon, you, in the dead of night when he was all alone on a patrol of the outskirts of a town in the wild lands of Japan’s countryside.

The first thing he noticed about you, embarrassingly enough, was how stunning your appearance is. Still, that didn’t stop him from drawing his katana from its sheath and baring it at you.

Giyuu swallowed when he saw your eyes, how could he not? They were beautiful after all, though they held the demonic inscription of uppermoon two.

The battle would be bloody, he knew. Your strength outweighed his by an obscene amount, your flesh could mend itself back together within mere seconds and your stamina was nearly unlimited, something he would soon come to see in a different light.

A soft smile played on your mouth, lips tugged up in a gentle manner as the skin around your eyes crinkle slightly. Each blow the hashira dealt was easily sidestepped by you, making Giyuu somewhat enchanted by you despite himself.

Your movements were so graceful, making you look like a living angel as you danced through the entourage of blade slashes directed at you.

Your smile never fades as you gradually get closer and closer to Giyuu despite him thinking that he has quite a handle at keeping you at a fair distance. The elation surprised him and he found himself soon unable to keep you more than a few feet away from him.

Sweat started beading on his forehead as he tried harder, channeling every skill he knew of from both his breathing style and swordsmanship in general. But despite the worry he was feeling at your nearing presence, you didn’t intend him any harm, you just had to exhaust the hashira to the point where he couldn’t fight back any longer.

Truth be told you found him absolutely beautiful, those deep sapphire eyes and dark black hair framing his pale face. Those fluid water-like movements, a signature of water breathing users, just looked so much better when it was Giyuu moving in that way.

In your century of life you have come across many different demons, demon slayers and normal mortals.. Even playing around with a handful that you found physically attractive, though none ever tugged at any heartstrings of yours, nor achieved a second glance.

This human was different, he was undeniably handsome but also his quiet nature intrigued you.

Mortals and even demons varied in personality, of course. But when they were in the presence of you they either become obnoxiously loud, crying and screaming and whatnot. Either that or they would cower in fear, not even daring to speak a word to you, causing you to quickly become bored with their existence.

But Giyuu was different, he was quiet, not screaming at you for your existence but at the same time his silence was not driven by fear. No, it was driven by the pure focus driving him forward.

Undoubtedly Giyuu harbored some hate towards you merely for the fact you were a demon. It didn’t bother you, however. He was respectful in his fight, never once did an insult slip past his plush lips which you found to be quite a pleasing change of pace.

And so you let him fight, let him display his years of training in such a gorgeous way.

Giyuu wasn’t completely unaware of your silent musing, he noticed the way you gazed at him with dreamy eyes. He saw the way you allowed his every attack to finish, even if it never hit you.

Those small things go unnoticed by many, so many that it has annoyed you for multiple decades. But you knew that Giyuu saw them and that only fueled your interest in him.

The fight was quiet, only the soft rustling of fabric, impact against grass and sword slashes swinging through the air.

But at the same time it spoke louder than any word could. The soft dance you two were in together grew closer and closer like it was nearing its grand finish, however that end would not be in death nor would it come that night.

The both of you seemed to look past the slashing of Giyuu’s sword, focusing on the small gestures of movement that brought a soft hue of pink to the hashira’s ears.

Your hand would graze his blade for a moment before he danced away from you again. He wasn’t that easy to woo, you found, which made you try even more. But at the same time Giyuu never rejected you, no. He was just putting on a show, a beautiful one at that.

The two of you had lived a life of darkness and bloodshed so a meeting such as this was only appropriate, no? To many others it would appear that the hashira’s fate was sealed and in a way it was, though there was no promise of death when he was with you.

It was important for the first promise between them to remain silent, not spoken aloud. The words in early days of meeting are unimportant in such a world, the quiet bond that was being built was much more precious, like a small defenseless thing that you wanted to shelter. It was valuable to you, you realized.

In some ways Giyuu felt the same. He just couldn’t help it, he was lonely. He had been lonely since childhood so the promise from such a seemingly… angelic demon seemed tempting to him. That temptation was already drawing him in, he had fallen to it, how could he not? You were so pleasing to be in the presence of. Despite the clear warning of the kanji inscribed in your beautiful e/c eyes the hashira found himself unable to pull away.

You welcomed him, you welcomed him to you, ignoring the biological hatred between the two of you because why would that matter? You had all eternity to have whatever you desired, why would principles make it any different?

The need, no matter how faint, was all too visible to you. Giyuu didn’t hide it from you, never averting his gaze from your own as if he wanted to drive your primal hunger for him. He didn’t fear your fangs nor your sharp nails that could dig into his flesh if he were to make a single misstep.

As his stamina ran out his muscles began to ache, his movements were growing more sluggish from their dance dragging on too long for his human body to handle.

This notion didn’t slip past your notice, after all the two of you were already so in tune with each other despite never speaking a word.

You let him drop right into your arms from fatigue and somehow Giyuu didn’t find himself afraid of what was to come.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Slept left Giyuu after some hours of sleeping. He found himself waking up in a lavish western style bed. The room was comfortable, having a nice scent of something like vanilla and cinnamon.

The hashira found that couldn’t bring himself to sit up out of the bed, feeling too content to even consider it much.

Your presence was easy to sense within the home due to the fact you didn’t bother to mask it from the demon slayer. The trust between the two of you was oddly strong despite the strange nature of its founding.

It didn’t alarm Giyuu when you entered what he could only assume to be a guest bedroom. In your hands was a bowl of pork cutlet, well seasoned with some vegetables on the side. The exhausted demon slayer took the bowl of food with a thankful nod.

As he ate he was able to hear your voice for the first time as you asked him a simple question.

“Your name?” ah, of course your voice would be as attractive as your appearance. The mere sound of it had turned the tips of Giyuu’s ears pink once more as he replied in a soft voice.

“Tomioka Giyuu.” It was a short response but he was happy to see that you didn’t mind his lack of verbalization. You gave him your name in return and he nodded, finishing up his meal with eagerness.

You chuckle softly as you take his empty bowl away and at the same time set down a glass of water. Giyuu smiled softly to himself, hiding it behind the rim of the cup as he took a grateful drink.

This was some of the most gentle treatment he had received after years of tough training, bloodshed and ostracization from his fellow slayers. So he couldn’t help but feel at ease around you, despite your status as an uppermoon demon.

You couldn’t help but feel similarly with his own status as a high ranking demon slayer, a hashira. The two of you didn’t feel like you were in danger when you were around each other which was out of the ordinary but at the same time pleasing.

It was quite comforting to finally be able to form a meaningful connection with someone after all these years.

The wounds he had allowed himself to sustain during a recent mission were now rebandaged, Giyuu noticed. You had spent the time wrapping his arm and waist in fresh white bandages, making the hashira feel a warmth growing in his chest.

Those seemingly small things were quite a gentle and thoughtful thing for a demon to even consider doing, he thought. So the fact that you did it made it all the more special to him.

You had left Giyuu to his thoughts for a little while as you cleaned his dish before putting it away.

You returned to his side not long after and this time the two of you didn’t stay separated for long. Soon you were seated on the comfortable duvet cover of the bed Giyuu had been resting in, looking over at him.

A slight shift in his posture edged his hand just a little closer to your body, a silent invitation for you to take hold of it.

And that you did, your cooler hand slipped into his rather warm and calloused one, gently running your thumb over the top of it as Giyuu allowed his deep blue eyes to flutter shut. Soft touches were so rare in Giyuu’s profession and he was really feeling that fact now.

Some might consider him touch starved, which he couldn’t disagree with. So when you gave him that gentle touch Giyuu could find himself craving more and more. He didn’t care about being greedy and honestly, neither did you.

So a simple hand touch soon turned into you rubbing his arm then to the two of you in a joined embrace on that soft bed. It was painfully comfortable, lying there with Giyuu. So the two of you remained wrapped in each other’s arms for a while longer.

Your hands eventually found his dark black hair, undoing the ponytail it was currently in, letting it hang loose. Giyuu hummed in question only to be met by you slipping down into a lying position on the bed and opening your arms for him.

Who was he to refuse the demon that took him in? So of course he allowed his body to sink against your’s, letting out a soft breath of content when you begin rubbing slow circles on his back. It didn’t bother him that he was without a shirt at that moment, not at all.

All that mattered was being snuggled against you, being pressed so comfortingly against your demonic body. Giyuu loved that you welcomed him into your arms, that you rubbed his back and tended to his wounds. That you cared to make him feel this way.

And maybe.. Perhaps you would also care enough to make him feel better in another way. That thought seeped into his mind with no warning nor invitation but once it was in it made itself a home. Giyuu couldn’t get the thought of you doing such a sinful and loving thing.

Your eyes were busy gazing at his face, admiring his beautiful features. Once he looks up at you he instantly notices how you’re watching him with that sweet look on your face. Instantly he felt blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. You giggle softly at his reaction and cup his cheeks in your hands, gently squeezing them.

“May I?” you inquire with a quiet breath before smiling when Giyuu nods his head. Your lips meet his own soft ones in a tender kiss. 

It’s calm at first until Giyuu leans into it more, urging you to take that next step. Of course, who were you to deny him? So your tongue meets his own, exploring his mouth for the first time that night.

Giyuu was so needy yet so inexperienced, he didn’t know where to place his hands and was messily copying the motions of your tongue. 

So you take the lead, your hands holding his waist possessively, rubbing all over his skin and bandages with a firm touch.

He tasted so sweet and his little muffled whines were so adorable to listen to. It was so hard to take this slow but you knew that he needed it that way, despite his cold facade he was quite a sensitive thing.

His body remained on top of yours but in no way was the hashira in control, he had relinquished that the moment he fell into your arms. 

You eventually sat up with Giyuu in your lap, clinging to you like you’d vanish if he were to let go.

Giyuu felt his air supply running low so reluctantly he parted from your lips, gasping for breath soon after. Your smile never faded and your hands never left his body, they rubbed his waist slowly before eventually grasping it in full.

Your grip wasn’t particularly firm nor possessive at the moment and even so Giyuu could feel warmth pooling in his tummy from the mere touch. It wasn’t long before you sunk your lips back against his, pulling him into another searing kiss.

It was just so perfect that the hashira couldn’t resist attempting to clumsily roll his hips, not knowing what to do but feeling a tightness growing in his pants. After your lips separate for a second time you don’t waste a moment in placing hands on Giyuu’s hips to guide him properly.

A soft whimper escaped his lips, it was breathy and pure, so painfully pure to you. You had to have more, Giyuu was just so stunning when he was like this, after all. Your hands picked up the pace, making the slayer gasp in moderate surprise before leaning his head into the crook of your neck.

You didn’t mind because in that position you could hear each and every sound that Giyuu let out. Every breathy gasp and quiet whimper were easily picked up by you, driving you forward.

Giyuu bit down on his bottom lip out of pure instinct. He was practically in heaven, or so he thought. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself- or you, from continuing the passion that was slowly unfolding in this quaint bedroom; hidden away from the rest of Japan.

“Please, more.” he whispers to you in an almost bashful tone. You knew exactly what he desired and you weren’t about to deny your beautiful human anything, at least not yet. So you obey, unbuckling his belt and “accidentally” brushing your hand against the prominent bulge in his dark black pants.

Each touch of that nature had the water hashira tensing and sucking in a breath of surprise and need. You just had this air about you; it was driving him insane. If you could just do it, touch him there; where he needs it-

Giyuu squeaks at the soft smack that was laid against his now bare thigh. Your hand was quick to rub the soft skin there, of course; but it served as a reminder to be good, to not go off on his own. He needs to listen to you, of course he does; he has no idea what to do.

“Shh, just follow my lead. Listen, baby.” you mutter in reply to his soft pleading sounds. Giyuu swallows before nodding his head, he knows that he has to be good for you to get what he wants, somehow.

Ah, but it was so hard! He was sitting in your lap in only his fundoshi, rolling his hips at a pace you control and to top it off you were still fully clothed. Giyuu merely buried his face even more so against your neck, choosing to stay quiet.

But that just wouldn’t do, would it? No; he needs to voice what he wants with you. You shift him in your lap, placing your thigh between his own so that he can get more friction against his bulge as you whisper teasingly in his ear.

“You want something, what is it?” he tenses slightly as his cheeks flush more. He should’ve known that you would figure it out; after all he wasn’t good at hiding anything from you, clearly. Swallowing his shyness after a moment he replies,

“You still.. Have all your clothing on…” so that was what he was thinking about? How sweet. You chuckle in light amusement before giving him one guided hip roll against your thigh.

“Then take it off.” you reply without missing a beat, making the hashira pause and look up at you with slightly glazed over blue eyes and a confused expression on his face. However that confusion soon turns into blush as he looks down- avoiding your gaze as he nods his head.

With trembling hands he pulls both your kimono and under-kimono open, revealing your chest to his flustered but oh so hungry gaze. You had removed your haori long before settling down in bed with the hashira so now all that remained was your kimono, obi and hakama pants.

Next Giyuu unties your obi with unsure hands. You take the fabric from him and look into his eyes, clearly uninterested in what becomes of it because of the lust that was starting to get to you.

The hashira swallows before continuing to help you undress and slowly, piece by piece, your stunning body is revealed.

But he can’t have all of the fun, can he? So you toy with the edge of his fundoshi for a little while, making Giyuu blush even further before eventually pulling it off. The hashira instinctually covers his erection with his hands, embarrassment flooding through his face.

You smirk softly and take his hands in yours, bringing them away from covering anything. You lay soft kisses on his knuckles as well, smiling at the way he was blushing because of it.

A soft whisper, or rather plea of your name here and there, had your patience nearly snapping. But you had to remind yourself that your baby didn’t know any better, not yet. Giyuu was just calling out for you, wanting you closer, wanting more of your touch; wanting more of you.

“Press your back to my chest.” you instruct in a calm voice, Why were you so calm and collected? Giyuu was blushing so much that he thought his skin was on fire at this point. You really were going to ruin him; though he obeys nonetheless. With his back flush against your chest you wrap your arms loosely around his waist.

You slide one hand to his erect cock while the other trails further up, playing with one of his soft pink nipples.

A light pinch with the first stroke of his cock has Giyuu’s hands flying up to cover his mouth. But even then he isn’t able to hide his squeal from you. You rub your hand up and down the length of his dick, occasionally circling his tip with the pad of your thumb.

“None of that now, darlin’. I want to hear every sound you make.” you whisper, your voice almost a soft hiss. You had to resist being just a bit harsher in your words with him because you knew Giyuu wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

Besides, you had other things planned for tonight…

Giyuu nods meekly as he lowers his hands, instead balling them up into fists as your hand picks up its pace. Another moan is pulled out of the hashira as you give his nipple a sharp tug.

Ah, his bare shoulder is just too tempting for you to not bite… So you lean in and sink your teeth, albeit quite gently for a demon, into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, eliciting a sharp cry from him.

“HnGAH?!~” another bite, another squeal or cry. It was an addicting cycle but you eventually began licking over the marks you had already left, not wanting to be too rough quite yet. Your hand also never stopped, driving Giyuu closer and closer to orgasming.

Your fingers leave his chest to press against his lips, coaxing him to suck on them and coat them with his saliva. For what? He doesn’t know yet; though he will soon. He arches his back, hipping bucking into your hand as he feels the coil about to snap.

“Close, close!~” is all of the muffled warning you get before the hashira comes, pearly white cum staining your hand. You hum, bringing it to your lips to taste much to Giyuu’s embarrassment.

“Mmpfh!” he protests, wordlessly, due to the fingers currently playing with his tongue. You merely hum in response, finding the taste of your darling to be quite pleasant. Looking down into his flustered eyes makes you chuckle softly before giving him a kiss on the head in response.

“Sorry, hun. Couldn’t resist tasting you.” you chuckle quietly before pulling the two fingers you had in the hashira’s mouth out. They were thoroughly coated in saliva now and perfect for what you intended to use them for.

You let Giyuu get another whine out before flipping him to lay with his chest flush against yours once again.

Giyuu can’t help but feel quite comfortable in this position, being able to hold onto you- practically hug you all while feeling your bare skin against his was something he was never going to get tired of.

Your dry hand slowly finds its place on Giyuu’s perky ass, giving it a few rubs before lightly pressing your two wet fingers against his hole.

He sucks in a nervous breath, never having been penetrated before; only jacking off when he was alone at times. But you’re there to soothe his worries, of course you are. You’ve been so sweet to him this entire time.

“Shhh, it’s alright. I’ll go slow, okay?” you murmur in a soft voice before laying another gentle kiss on the hashira’s forehead. Giyuu nods his head as he looks up at you with wide trusting eyes, squeezing them shut when you push your finger in, burying the first knuckle in his warmth. He was grateful you were adding them one at a time as he wasn’t sure if he could take them in from the beginning at once.

“Ngh.. ahn~” his moans are like little mumbles as he smushes his face into your chest, hands holding onto your back as he pushes back on your finger slightly.

Soon enough another knuckle is in him, then another until your middle finger is completely inside.

Giyuu shifts his hips slightly, trying to get used to the sensation of having something inside him like this.

“I’m going to add another finger, alright?” you warn quietly, only acting when Giyuu gives a little nod in response. You slowly ease your middle finger out of him before readjusting so that both your middle and ring fingers slip into the first knuckle. Giyuu lets out a soft hum of pleasure, shifting his hips to let you know that he wants you to continue.

And you do, you ease those two fingers until they’re fully inside of him and at that point the hashira is moaning softly into your chest. You kiss the top of his head as you begin moving them in and out at a nice and slow pace, allowing him to get used to the sensations he’s receiving.

Your fingers work diligently, pressing deep within him every time you move them back in. Occasionally you spread them apart to loosen his muscles, to which he lets out a moan or whine, depending on the distance between your fingers.

Soon enough the tips of your fingers pad against a soft little bump that causes Giyuu to squeal and arch his back without warning. His eyes fly open for a moment before his body shudders and once more clings onto your own.

“Is that where it feels the best?” you ask him, not expecting to receive an answer as your fingers prod away at that sensitive spot. Giyuu can’t answer, his voice too busy being used for moans and whines from the stimulation he was receiving at your hand; or rather, fingers.

Though, to your surprise Giyuu manages a slight nod in response to your question. How sweet… you just had to tease him a little bit, of course. So you press nice and firmly against that spot, not taking your fingers off  like before.

“NYAGH!~ Whu-wai-” his moans are like a sweet melody to your ears, he’s begging, pleading with you. It’s too much, he really isn’t used to these types of touches.

So when you finally return to your normal pace he slumps down against your chest again, whining and whimpering to himself.

You eventually find that he’s been stretched enough, though you’re still thoughtful about how his body will react to the real thing. So you reach over to the nightstand and retrieve a bottle of oil.

You pour a decent amount onto his already twitching hole, noticing how he squirms slightly from the feeling. You kiss him on the forehead, whispering a soft reassurance before spreading the oil along his walls.

His hands still grab at your arms, your chest, your back; whatever he can get at he’s instantly clinging onto. He whines softly when you remove your fingers, having grown used to the sensations they provided.

“It’s okay, darling..” you whisper in his ear, your voice calm with barely concealed lustful hunger. A soft sigh makes its way from Giyuu’s lips, signaling the fact he was quite content in your arms.

However a soft gasp does slip past his lips as he feels your tip pressing teasingly against his slick and oiled rim, as if you did such a thing just to hear him moan more.

Your teasing movement was met with a tremor of Giyuu’s legs and his face being pressed against your neck. It was sweet that he was acting so shyly when only a few moments ago he had pleaded with you, whispering your name in that breathy voice of his.

But you could only tease Giyuu for so long, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take much of it without proper training.

So you gently grab ahold of his hips, squeezing them lightly as you guide him to slide down on your cock. A choked whine sounds from Giyuu’s lips as his hands squeeze you, holding on for dear life.

“Ah! Feels.. W-weird.. Mngh..” he slurs into your neck, hands still squeezing you as tightly as he could manage. You hum softly in response, eyes focusing on the hashira’s hips.

Giyuu shifts around in your lap, trying to get used to the sensation of being so full. Soft whimpers leave his lips every time you readjust him slightly, getting him into place.

“Hngh.. move? P-please?” He asks, innocent eyes looking up into your own demonic inscribed one. How adorable. He was just too cute to say no to.

You hum and place a lingering kiss on Giyuu’s already sweaty forehead as you buck your hips up into him.

Soon enough you move your beauty onto the bed so that he can relax on his back, arms and legs wrapped around your body as you move your hips at a slow and smooth pace.

You thrust your hips forward, driving your cock into the hashira’s tight heat again and again so that you can soak up the sweet moans Giyuu lets out. They’re heavenly to listen to, sounding like a siren’s call.

“Good boy, you’re doing so good.” you whisper in his ear as your hips keep moving, continuing to thrust your cock deep into his hole.

Heat spreads over Giyuu’s cheeks as he clenches around your dick at the praise, making you unable to resist pressing a kiss to his soft lips again.

He bucks his hips up to meet your every thrust as you pick up the pace you were moving at, now bullying his prostate perfectly.

“Mnghh~ close…” he murmurs between moans that continue to grow in volume, signifying the truth behind his words.

“I know baby, I know.” you reply with a few more strong thrusts of your hips, driving Giyuu closer and closer to his peak.

With one more harder movement of your hips Giyuu let out a wail, cum spurting from the tip of his cock as his nails dug into your back.

You made the choice to not allow yourself to heal the marks that the demon slayer was leaving on your back, you wanted to be able to admire them in the morning after all.

However you don’t stop your hips there, no. Giyuu was just too cute and warm for you to be able to control yourself. The hashira let out a startled moan before sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his sounds.

He only let go to whine out, “t’much! ‘Soo m-muhhch!~” How sweet. It was adorable to hear him whine about everything being too intense for him to handle but at the same time thrusting his own hips up to meet your harsh pounding.

Tears cascade down the Hashira’s face, making him seem even more pathetically cute than before. His beautiful blue eyes roll back in his head as you hit that sweet spot over and over again, causing his dick to harden once more.

He can feel himself growing closer despite having come not that long ago. You were just too good, too perfectly attuned to all of his needs.

A second orgasm rips through him, causing him to arch his back and let out a filthy moan that's soon silenced by your lips connecting with his. It's so much, it's too much!

Giyuu feels like he’s drowning in the best pleasure imaginable. Though he expects you to stop now, after all you’ve gotten him to cum twice tonight and that's quite a lot for him, at least.

But you don’t, you keep going and even pick up your pace slightly. It punches sweet little “Uh uh uh”’s out of the poor thing, making it clear to you that he’s too fucked out to whine about it.

Your hand comes down to hold onto his chin, making him look up at you with that oh so pretty fucked out expression of his.

“Hm, you can take another round, can’t you baby?” you ask, the question obviously rhetorical as both him and you know that his brain is too mushy to answer you.

Instead Giyuu gives a weak whine of protest before holding onto you tighter. Though, his body is a stark contrast of the complaint he had just let out; he’s wiggling his hips, urging you to continue moving your own.

So with a soft chuckle you continue, slamming your cock deep into him, ramming so far inside that Giyuu swears that he’s seeing stars.

“AHN!- mnHN~.. ‘Omgohhhdddd!-" The hashira’s voice is broken up by his heavenly moans, unable to stop himself as you continue giving all the pleasure that you could possibly give him.

Your stamina is downright insane, though what could Giyuu expect. After all, you are one of the higher ranking uppermoon demons.

Even then, you can feel your pace slipping as your thrusts grow sloppier- more intense in pace and less like the strong, deep and practiced ones you had done prior.

“‘M close, baby. Want me to fill you up some more, Giyuu? Hmm?” You murmur into his ear, your breath hot and heavy as you breathe in Giyuu’s intoxicating scent.

Giyuu nods fervently in response as he screws his deep blue eyes shut. His cheeks are all rosy and stained with dried tear marks, making him all the more adorable.

He hiccups as you finally slow your pace, hips moving slower as you cradle his shaking body close to your own.

Oh? It appeared he had cum for a third time from that sloppy pace. What a sensitive thing he is.

You kiss Giyuu’s forehead, finding it drenched in sweat with his black bangs sticking to his. He looks up at you with a dazed look when you finally slow to a stop before closing his eyes again.

A smile finds its way onto your lips as you pull out of him, making him gasp, arching his back for one last time.

Giyuu whines softly, opening those tired eyes of his again as he searches for your touch.

“Mmngh.. Stay…” The hashira murmurs, calling out for you in that sweet and quiet voice of his.

How could you refuse? So of course you wrap yourself around his weakened body.

You use a soft cloth you dipped in the lukewarm water that had been sitting out in a glass to clean the cum from Giyuu’s tummy. 

Your touch is gentle as you clean him up as best you can for the moment, after all the poor thing was much too tired for a proper wash.

In return the hashira snuggles up to you, peppering shy kisses to your neck as a thank you for the night as he was much too tired to talk.

You release a quiet purr in return, it's a sweet and gentle sound which makes it soothing for Giyuu to listen to.

The hashira curls up properly after you set the cloth down, feeling quite content to be wrapped in your arms like this.

He falls asleep quite quickly, clearly your shared night of intimacy had gotten to him quite quickly.

You merely smile and lay another kiss on him, this time to the top of Giyuu’s head.

“How sweet…” You whisper to yourself. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to prolong this… relationship.

[actual-changeling]

"It would have been you."

It's raining.

Of course, it's raining.

A soft, constant drizzle leaving his hair a damp, curly mess that falls into his face and clings to his skin. Even though the cold is slowly seeping into his clothes, Crowley stops and turns around. Condensation is collecting on the inside of his shades where his breath drifts up, warm and too fast, and even if it hadn't been late at night, if the street hadn't been empty, he would have still taken them off.

Aziraphale is licking rain drops from his lips and blinking with dark, heavy lashes.

"What?"

His voice is rough, almost drowned out by the noise of rain hitting the pavement, collecting in small puddles around his feet.

"If it had been a choice, a real one, it would have been you."

The world did not end, questions were answered, apologies spoken, but their last conversation before everything went to shit is still a sharp splinter lodged in his chest, cutting him open more and more with every heartbeat. All of the fears he had left unsaid, the viscous doubt pooling in his lungs and weighing down his breaths—the truth might tip the scales and finally destroy him, and yet he cannot bring himself to stop Aziraphale from talking.

"It has always been you, Crowley. You must know that."

"I don't."

Bitterness laces his voice despite his best intentions, a drop of oil tainting an entire river, six thousand years of history, and it hurts because it's the truth, because they both wish it wasn't.

He doesn't know, couldn't know, because Aziraphale always needed him to stop them, to step back when they got too close. Every single time he had tried to push, gone too bloody fast, the angel had recoiled, scared for him, scared for the both of them. Crowley knows, and at the same time, he doesn't, because he still has hope and there is nothing more dangerous than allowing it to bloom; it's small, withered, brittle, on the verge of death and has been for centuries.

(It's still there, though. It keeps fighting, keeps trying. Keeps hoping.)

They're drenched to the bone, wet and pathetic, and there is nothing romantic about any of it when Aziraphale retraces his steps and closes the distance between them; there is, however, love.

There has always been love, whether they could admit it or not.

"I'm sorry. For- for everything, for making you think that I don't care about you."

"Angel, don't lie-"

"I'm not lying."

Crowley stares, frozen to the spot when Aziraphale presses cold, wet palms to his cheeks, his breath a ghost of warmth on his skin. This is too much, too close to 'our side', and if he didn't know better (does he know better? does he really?) he would think that he is about to—

"I'm not lying," he whispers, broken, truthful, "I love you. I won't leave you."

The rain stings in his eyes, masking the tears—hot and wistful—meeting Aziraphale's skin where it is touching his.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, angel."

His voice cracks and so does his heart, and he can feel the walls they have built together crumbling to dust under their feet. It's not real, it can't be real, and yet the truth is shimmering in storm-blue eyes he has been carrying with him since the moment he first put stars into the sky.

"It's you, always has been, always will be. If you let me."

Crowley kisses him as he falls apart, barely healed fractures reopening as his essence spills over and out, drowning him in please, please be real, please let us have this, please, God.

Just this once.

Aziraphale holds his face so incredibly gently, as if it's something worth keeping, something to protect, something he is afraid to lose. When the ground doesn't open up and swallow them whole, when the sky doesn't reach for them with greedy hands, he allows himself to seize Aziraphale's face in turn, cupping his jaw and kissing the rain drops off his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, tasting his tears when they begin to fall.

"It's always been you. God, of course I will let you."

Sapphire blue eyes blink up at him, a smile pressed against his lips, a smile he can feel, a smile that is for him, them.

"Perhaps you could let me somewhere less, ah, sopping wet?"

"I was right, though. It's the rain that did it."

Aziraphale laughs, bright and happy, and infectious enough to make Crowley laugh too, and grabs his hand to pull him back towards the bookshop - back home.

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [12]

pet!au | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

gentle

cw: angst, non-con touching, dub-con sex, smut, hate fucking if you squint

Click. Click. Click. 

Johnny won’t stop messing with his pen. Repetitive clicks echo in the small space in his art room as he hunches over his journal, shading away at some image just beyond your view. It’s distracting. That slip of plastic against plastic. It’s not as acidulous as a firing pin striking metal — nor is it nearly as dangerous — but it’s enough to get the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Enough to make you remember the weight of an empty gun biting into the palm of your hand. It’s unforgiving, like a bad dog. 

Brain too perforated to properly concentrate, you tap the eraser of your pencil against the notebook in your lap. The scrawlings of a madwoman taint the paper between its faded blue lines. It’s a gift from Johnny. Shoved it into your hands the other day because he said you looked bored. Told you that you fidget too much without something to busy yourself with, and he needs you to sit still in order to draw you properly. It was unusually astute of him to notice something so small about you. You’ve descried something more than just a lowering haze over the sapphire of his eyes, but you’re unable to put it into words. 

He’s different these days. You don’t know why.

Either way, you are grateful for the escape. You’ve repurposed this old, fading notebook into a diary of sorts. Some place to pour your thoughts out to something that has no other choice than to listen — something that cannot bite you. For so long you have carried so much inside of you; not just the pain and fear, but the little things, too. You nearly cried when you realized you finally had a place to put it — that weight — down. 

It wasn’t until you flipped to the first page that you realized you don’t know what the date is. Your passage of time has been warped again and again. A tablet dissolving in your drink made you lose days. Johnny taking you on the floor while a football game droned in the background made you lose years. You try to count the time in other ways. The length adding to your hair. Golden leaves catching fire on the fringes of the forest. An algid whisper on the wind dancing through the open window. The way summer dies with a sputtering pule. 

These days, you measure the turn of the earth by feel. Months. Hours. It doesn’t matter to you how long you have been trapped here; you only care about how much life you have left to live when you escape. 

Johnny. John? Soap. Like the bar. Never feels clean. Never makes me feel clean. Scottish. Tattoo on forearm. Coat of arms? Military? Wannabe? Scar on head. Shot? Simon said so. When? Who? Matching scar. No. Never. 

Simon. Simon. Just Simon. English. Manchester? Guns. Hunter. Big guns. Fucked up nose. Fucked up everything. Scars. One on ribs. Butcher? Smells like blood. Hate him. Animal. Lots of tattoos. Took me as a pet for Johnny. Mad man. Bad man. 

Me. Not Bonnie. Something else. Someone else. Bartender. How old am I? Need haircut. 

Miss my jumper. 

Miss my mum. 

Miss ice cream. 

Had an interview before I was taken. What day? Missing since… June. June. Summer. Hot. Did they ever call back? Needed better job. Wonder if they’re looking for me. Is anyone looking for me? Always called mum on Sundays. 

Does her phone ring now that I’m gone?

No. Not gone. Not yet. Not ever. 

I hope her phone rings.

Scribbles muddle the margins between fractured words and thoughts. You can conjure nothing more than empty, uneven eyes and dried flies lining burnt window sills. What creativity lingers in the fringes of your mind stays in the mess of grey matter; never something to brand the off white paper in your hands. Masterpieces cannot be created in a cage. You save what little energy you have for dreaming. You dream of a day when your teeth grow long enough they don’t whittle down to sand when you try to sharpen them. 

“Bonnie?” 

Johnny moves quietly. Or, your ears are growing old. Too busy trying to recall sounds you used to love; unable to make sense of the cacophony that constantly surrounds you in this tomb. He’s already eye level with you by the time you look up. Crouched next to your plushy chair, a wide hand sits on the armrest that props your elbow. He’s got his journal in hand, and you are very aware of the way he curiously eyes your own. You slam it shut with the pencil between the pages before setting it aside. 

His eyes follow your hands with question, but he says nothing as he turns his journal for you to see. Truly, Johnny has a talent you’ve rarely seen others show off. Meticulously crafted sketches brand the paper, etching your likeness in grey graphite. He captures every curve of your body as you lean in the recliner, eyes narrow with concentration. You’re drawn with a smile on your face, but those muscles in your cheeks have been dormant for so long you’re not sure you could conjure the expression if you tried. 

“That looks lovely,” you compliment. It’s not a lie, but it rolls off of your tongue like it is. 

“You’re lovely,” he fires back. Playful. Light. 

There it is again. That look. Heavy lids threaten to smother the blue hue of his eyes — heavy with a concupiscence so thick it’s palpable in the air that separates you from him. You hope one day it solidifies — turns into some protective barrier — but it never will. 

It starts like it always does. The slicing of the threshold, brittle like eggshells and bones. You don’t think about it as he presses his lips to yours. You keep your mind full of other thoughts because if it’s empty, there’s more room for worse things. Bitter things. A man can only stare at a meal for so long before his hunger consumes him. You are liquid. A flowing being molding into the shape of his body as his torso pinches your legs against the recliner. It’s easier to give in. Hurts less. Angers Simon less. Even with that monster gone you behave because the walls have eyes. Dark brown irises that do nothing but stare and smirk. 

“Ow!”

But you still have your limits, and your body aches more often than it is numb these days, and Johnny’s hands haven’t grown any softer. He paws at you with claws that can’t retract and you wince. Your breasts are sore from weeks — no, months — of abuse. They’re silent wounds that will not heal and always, always scream. 

Then, it stops. 

Johnny’s hands retract from your body at the same time as his lips do, leaving you breathlessly dumbfounded. Blinking away the confusion, your eyes settle on Johnny who retreats back to sitting on his haunches. Blue eyes shimmer in the late summer sun as he shifts. For once, you are the one above him instead of the other way around. He looks up at you as if you’re an angel—

—as if he’s begging for forgiveness. 

“Did Ah hurt you?” he asks. 

“Uh… a-a little bit,” you admit stiffly. 

“A’m sorry.” 

There’s something in his eyes that unsettle you. You think back to that night when his body thrashed and squirmed next to you on the bed, fear reverberating through the mattress. Panicked and screaming; unable to rip himself from some nightmare. How he screamed about wanting to go home. Your stomach twists at the very thought, and it only gets worse when you realize that — for once — he looks more human than mutt. 

“It’s okay. I… I know you didn’t mean it,” you whisper. 

“Never. Ah would never hurt you,” he concurs. A breadth of stillness freezes the room and for the longest time you hear nothing but the chatter of birds. Johnny reaches for you with a singular hand, and rests it on top of your leg, heavy and warm. “Bonnie, are ye afraid of me?” 

Vocal chords turning to stone, your throat seizes as you attempt to answer. “No,” you lie. Cautious eyes flicker to the walls around you like they’ll crumble at any moment. Something slices through the prostration in your chest, and a strange cogitation flickers in the back of your mind. It’s as strong as it is terrifying, but you find your body executing it before you’re able to stop it. “But… Simon does. He terrifies me.” 

Johnny’s mouth fills with well meaning mirth. “He’s scary alright, but he won’t hurt ye. Simon’s not like that.” 

“I’m still worried he might,” you admit. A hesitant hand reaches out and rests over Johnny’s. The smile on his face quickly melts away into surprise as he stares up at you with parted lips. “But you wouldn’t let that happen. Right?” 

“Never.” His response is quick. Sharp and eager as he leans closer. His other hand comes up to rest upon yours, sandwiching you into a small embrace. “Cannae ever let anythin’ bad happen to ye.” 

Something shudders in your chest. Your diaphragm, maybe. It quivers and quakes as if you hold a bird’s nest within yourself. Foreign words begin to scratch at the back of your tongue, tickling your throat. You know well enough to bite them back, but as you stare at Johnny’s smile — lips pulled wide — someone stronger chokes the words out for you. 

“You’re so good to me, Johnny,” you whisper, voice whiny as you scoot forward in the recliner. Slipping your hand out of his grasp, your palms instead reach up to cup his face. His smile fades into parted lips and bated breath as your thumbs rub against abrasive stubble. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his eyes dilate so wide before. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?” 

“Ah try tae be,” he swallows. 

“I know you do.” 

It takes an eternity for your lips to meet his. Just when you think you’ve halved the distance, it only grows, and you’re unsure if it’s because of the scream of betrayal in your chest, or something worse. He groans when your bodies finally reunite, and you play into the fantasy his sick brain is infested with. Precious Bonnie. So supple and pliant in his hands. If only he knew you were this soft because muscles cannot properly tense around broken bones. 

You pull Johnny onto the recliner by his collar, but you ensure you’re the one to land on top. Legs spreading wide to accommodate his thighs, your knees squish into the sides of the arm rests, sending journals and pencils flying to the ground. When he paws at your chest again, you bite back the urge to push him away. To slice your nails through the back of his hand. Fingers pressing into tender flesh, he stares up at you like he’s finally able to feel the heart beating beneath his palms. 

“You wanna fuck me?” Those words sting on the way out, but you attempt to distract yourself from the pain as you grind down onto Johnny’s lap. He nods, hips pathetically bucking up. “Yeah? Ask me, then.” 

Thick brows pinch together as he parts his lips. It’s as if his request is on the tip of his tongue, but his hands have a mind of their own. Wandering. Grabbing. Pinching. 

“No,” you chastise. “Use your words, Johnny.” 

“Please. Please, Bonnie.” It’s pathetic. He says the words like he’s speaking to Simon. 

“Good boy,” you coo. “Gentle now. Gentle, Johnny.” 

He fumbles with the fly of his jeans, all too eager. His cock hardly has time to spring free before he’s already making a mess. Precum drips everywhere, staining the band of your shorts as his reddened tip slaps against you. Too worried about keeping your power, you don’t bother to properly remove your clothes. Instead, you move the gusset of your shorts and panties to the side before sinking down onto him. This has to be quick. You promise yourself it will be. 

All the while, you remind Johnny to be gentle, gentle, gentle.

Even when you’re in control, it still hurts. There’s that stretch and sting as you split yourself open, but you take it slow. Steady. Unlike Johnny, you allow yourself to adjust. He’s panting beneath you by the time you fully take him. You feel so full of rot it upsets your stomach, but you try to mask your trembling with a gentle rock of your hips. His moan is cacophonous, and your fingers itch to dig into his throat and render his vocal chords useless, but you relent. 

Always, always relenting. 

There is an intense appetency for blood that itches in the back of your mind. Even as you fake your moans and rock your hips, you want to take your hands and dig. Fingers piercing through flesh, cutting through bone; you wouldn’t stop until Johnny’s heart is in the palm of your hands. Still beating. Still fresh. You could squeeze it for an eternity and it still would only be a fraction of the pain you’ve been made to endure. 

You hate him. You hate him like a mother hates her daughter. Like how eyes hate mirrors. How the sun hates flesh. 

“Johnny?” you choke out. “Do you love me?” 

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, mouth stuck open as he stares up at you. “Aye. So much, Bonnie.” 

“Yeah? So you’d do anything for me?” you challenge. You try not to wince as he butts up against your cervix, but you know you can’t afford to stop. 

“Aye.”

“Anything I ask?”

“Anythin’ ye ask. Fuck, Bonnie A’m-” 

“I love you, Johnny.” It’s acid. Pure bile on your tongue. You nearly choke on the words, but you repeat them again. “I love you so much.”  

You hide your face in the crook of his neck when he comes. Thick fingers dig into your hips as you hold still, allowing him to spill his seed inside of you like he always does. His pulse throbs against your lips and you restrain the urge to take the artery into your maw and bite down. There’s nothing in your mouth but pathetic, brittle teeth. You don’t even think you could break through his skin. Still, you dream of it. Running the tips of your fingers along Johnny’s jaw, you yearn for a day when you have the weapons and tools to free yourself. It’s a long, agonizing process. One you’re not sure you have the patience for. 

And so, when you lean back to look at him, you stare at his lips. Soak up the way the delicate skin parts as he smiles up at you, allowing you to catch sight of his teeth. You might not have sharp canines, but he does. You know first hand the way they can dig into your lip and draw blood from skin. Fingers twitching, you yearn to pull the canines from his mouth, to wield them for yourself, but you know you’re not strong enough. 

But maybe, someday, you can be the guiding hand. Point a finger and say go fetch and have Simon’s head delivered to you. That day is too far over the horizon for you to view, but the vision of it is so clear in your mind that it’s enough for now. Right now, you’ve taken the first step.

“Good boy,” you croon as you thumb over his bottom lip. “Good boy, Johnny.” 

You’ll just have to keep walking.

[flametrashiraarchive]

So, since @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi fed me real real good with her Muzan smut I wanted to write something in exchange, and as per usual I got carried away and the Giyuu "blurb" I promised became nearly 3k words of smut and feelings.

Stay With Me

Giyuu Tomioka x F!Reader. Childhood friends to lovers. A lot of handholding.

NSFW below the cut. MDNI

It began innocently. 

You and Giyuu were just kids, given barely enough time to catch your breath and begin processing your grief after final selection when you were sent on your first mission together. The fight was messy and hard. Other slayers died. You survived, and that was a burden you both would always carry.

By the end of the fight, the pair of you were so exhausted you could barely stand. Giyuu's sapphire eyes stared at the snow-covered ground as the demon's body crumbled to ash and was lost to the wind. Your comrade’s bodies remained along with the guilt. The weight of everything sat atop you both, crushing and relentless; the loss and responsibility far too great for hearts so young to bear. 

You were hurting but so was he. Giyuu’s heart has been hurting since the day he emerged from that accursed mountain and stood unblinking in the wisteria grove. Back then you hadn’t known how to comfort that scared, silent boy, but as he sat beside you on that first mission, you reached out and offered him simple solace. You held his hand.

“Giyuu,” you said, “stay with me. It’ll be okay.”

His hand was small and trembling back then, calluses barely formed and skin peeling where the hilt of his blade had rubbed away the top layers. The skinned peaks of his little knuckles broke your heart, even though your hands were just as small and battered.

His hand just hung loosely in yours as you curled your fingers around it. But he didn’t try to pull away. He simply let it be. 

You kept a hold of his hand all the way back home.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly as you finally parted ways at a fork in the road. Those were the first words he had ever spoken to you.

As he walked down the road toward his village, your hand flexed around empty air. You missed the warmth. 

The next mission you were sent on together ended in much the same way. And the next. And the next. 

It became a habit. He would come to your side when the fight drew to a close, his hand nudging yours, inviting you to take it. He never spoke much– which you didn't mind at all; his presence was comforting enough for you. Some said he was weird. Others that he was too haughty to speak. You quickly silenced those whispers. 

Giyuu was just quiet and sad, carrying so much on his shoulders. And though you barely knew a thing about him, he was your friend. So, after every mission you found yourselves on together, after every death, you held Giyuu’s hand.

But the years passed and he climbed the ranks faster than you did. The silent boy became a stoic man; his hand feeling larger, rougher, and heavier after every mission. Before long your fingers couldn't surround his fully, but you still tried. And despite the strength of his grip on the hilt of his blade, he remained passive in the gesture, his fingers never once curling to squeeze yours.

Then, Giyuu became a Hashira, tasked with eradicating demons far stronger than you could even attempt to fight. Your missions together grew fewer and farther between.

You missed him; missed the weight of his hand in yours, the constant comfort of his presence, the deep blue shade of his eyes. A hollow, almost painful feeling surged in your chest wherever you thought of him, but there wasn’t time to dwell. There were demons to kill, lives to save. You took the ache and pushed it down, burying it beneath your responsibility. 

And then the time came when you were charged with leading a squad of lower rank slayers on a mission. Your quiet friend was engaged elsewhere, and at that point you hadn't seen him for months. Perhaps you never would again.

You tried not to think about him.

The mission went badly. Your entire group was wiped out. All of them, even the kids you'd silently sworn to protect from harm. The grief and the guilt were crushing. If only you'd been a split-second faster, if only you'd stood an inch the the left, if only your instincts hadn't told you to duck.

You sent your crow to fetch help, and tortured yourself with what-ifs, sitting on the earth in that forsaken forest. Waiting… surrounded by shrouded little figures. Two days later a troop of kakushi arrived to clean up and recover the bodies as you stood numb, staring… lost.

You were so close to disassociating entirely that you almost missed the glimpse of Giyuu's haori in the corner of your eye. Even when you registered what you had seen, you doubted your senses. Why would he be there? There was no need for a hashira; the demons were all gone. But no… your grief-stricken mind hadn't lied. He was there. For you. 

He approached you silently, standing by your side, his knuckles brushing against the back of your hand. A moment later he curled his fingers around yours, firm, reassuring, but so gentle.

"I heard what happened and came as soon as I could,” he said. 

"I should have protected them." Your voice trembled.

"I know it hurts. You can't blame yourself." His hold on you tightened. "Not even for a moment."

"Giyuu–"

His lips parted for a moment at the sound of his name coming from your lips, but he quickly recovered his composure. "Come with me."

Down the mountain he led you, away from the horrors, his hand cradling yours the entire way. His grip never once faltered. Even when you reached a village tucked away among the foothills. He brought you to a house whose door was painted with a wisteria seal. 

He had the mistress of the house fetch a doctor to check over your injuries, which were miraculously minor, and told her that yes, you would require food and tea when you couldn't summon the words yourself. To your surprise, he knew exactly how you liked your tea brewed and what foods you liked, even though you had never talked about it. It seemed he had paid close attention to your preferences over the years. 

He stayed by your side, guiding you gently through that difficult day. When the time came for you to rest, your hands remained linked across the space between your futons.

The sounds of his soft, slumbering breaths lulled you to sleep. And for the first time you could remember, you slept well.

When morning came, you awoke to the warm, comforting security of his embrace, your face pressed to his shoulder, and his fingers still entwined with yours. Sometime during the night you had rolled across to his futon and burrowed into his arms. 

With a gentle murmur he began to wake and opened his eyes a little; a sliver of deep blue appeared half-concealed beneath his thick black eyelashes.

His breath audibly caught in his chest at the sight of you curled against him, but he didn't move. Neither did you. 

Giyuu's shallow breaths fanned across your brow as you gazed into his eyes, caught in the duality of wondering if you had unintentionally crossed a boundary and feeling as though you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

"Is this okay?" you whispered.

He nodded once, and his hand gently tightened around yours. "Please… stay with me."

Heart thrumming against your ribs, you raised your interlocked hands to your lips and pressed a slow, tender kiss to each of his scarred knuckles. “Always.”

A sharp exhale blew across your forehead. You heard him swallow before he mirrored the gesture, his lips brushing against your aching hands, as soft and tender as new leaves warmed by morning sun. And when he had kissed each knuckle, he pressed a long, slow kiss to the pulsepoint of your wrist, closing his eyes, pulling in a deep breath.

Outside the world carried on as normal; birds sang, people chattered, carts rolled down the streets, but in your shared sanctuary everything changed. You repaid the kiss to your wrist with a kiss to his shoulder. He gave you an achingly soft kiss to your temple. You pressed your lips to his cheek, and he exchanged it for a kiss to the very corner of your lips which curved into a smile to mirror his own.

You were both breathless, pink-cheeked and dizzy with trepidation as the space between you closed and he touched the very tip of your nose with his. The warmth of his breath against your lips stirred up butterflies in your stomach. The hazy, almost drunk look in his eyes made your chest tighten. 

Bringing up his palm to cup your cheek, he stroked his thumb along its curve. He closed his eyes and kissed your lips; softer and lighter than mist at first, then deeper, and deeper. You might have missed the quiet moan which escaped him if not for the vibration against your fingertips which pressed lightly to the hollow of his throat.

Kisses cascaded between you, each deeper than the last. Giyuu moaned again as you slid your tongue over his bottom lip, opening his mouth to permit your entry. With every new sensation he grew bolder, pressing his body against yours, sliding his hand down to your thigh to hitch it over his hip, rolling you onto your back with his weight and pressing you down, once more interlocking his fingers with yours.

The soft smile Giyuu had given you as you exchanged kisses faded, replaced by a silent intensity as he rocked his hips against you, shivering at the sensation. Both of you were clad in thin pajamas, and the shape of his body, as well as the heavy swell of his erection were unmistakable. He groaned as he felt the intoxicating heat of your pussy through your nightclothes, both of you desperately craving closeness in any form. 

“Please…” he whispered, the only word his mind could summon as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, fighting with the compulsion to keep rubbing his cock against you.

Heat tingled on your cheeks as you nodded in consent. “Yes.”

You were no less desperate, wetness soaking through the fabric of your pajamas as he grinded against you again. 

You were both functioning on instinct as you pulled off your shirts, and Giyuu’s lips closed around your nipple, lapping at it with his tongue. He lifted his hips and the pair of you pulled down his pajama pants, freeing his erection. It wasn’t the first you’d seen, but it was by far the prettiest– gently curved toward his belly, crowned with a sweetly blushing tip and adorned with serpentine veins. It was also the largest you’d seen. By a long way. 

He must’ve noticed the widening of your eyes, or the trepidation written across your face at the sight of it, because he released your nipple and glanced down with a worried expression which made your heart ache.

“You’re big,” you explained, wrapping your hand around it and giving him an exploratory stroke. 

A choked cry burst from Giyuu’s lips as his cock twitched against your palm and a white rope of cum shot from the tip, spraying over your stomach. He hurried to clean it up with his pajama shirt and collapsed into you, burying his face against your neck, red with shame and arousal. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. Oh, Gods, I didn’t mean t–I’ve never felt anyone touch–”

“Giyuu…” You placed your hand on the back of his head and stroked his hair, gently and shushing him. “Stay with me, it’s okay.”

His breaths blew hot and heavy against your collarbone, each one accompanied by a ragged whimper until the sensation of your fingers threading through his hair calmed him. “I don’t think I’m done,” he said, lifting himself up and glancing down at his cock. He was still erect, a pearl of cum dripping from the tip. “I…don’t want to stop… please…”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Please don’t stop.”

You smiled and spread the cum over the blushing head with your thumb, arousal flushing your chest as his face darkened and his eyes fluttered shut. As much as you craved his touch, watching Giyuu fall apart was the most beautiful and delicious thing you had ever witnessed, and a part of you wanted that again and again. 

But Giyuu’s fingers gave yours a reassuring squeeze and then let go. He drew back away from your hands to kneel between your thighs. Inch by inch, he removed your pajama bottoms, kissing every bit of skin he exposed; your lower belly, your hips, your thighs, down to your knees. He removed the garment completely and glanced at your rosy face before his gaze fell reverently to your pussy. 

His lips were maddeningly soft as he kissed your cunt slowly, his tongue delving into your entrance as his groan curled your toes. His eyes flicked up to you, gaging your reaction before he traced the shape of your pussy lips, with his tongue. After each experimental caress his eyes returned to your face, so desperate to please, to give you everything he could. 

He lapped his tongue against your clit and your hips bucked toward him. “Fuck, Giyuu– that... Gods, yes–!”

Oh, there was nothing of the shy, quiet boy in his eyes then. Seeing your reaction, knowing he was pleasuring you well, tilted his lips into a smirk before they returned to their newfound purpose of driving you to absolute ecstasy. The blush on his cheeks spread as he licked at your clit, breaking away to breathe and circle it with the tip of his nose before continuing his kisses. His hot, wet mouth against your slick skin applying such divine pressure you couldn’t help but place your hand on the back of his head and sink your fingers into his thick, black hair, silently encouraging him to go on.

His name tumbled from your lips as you fell apart, grinding against his mouth. He savored every drop of your essence. Everything was new and fascinating to him; the way your thighs tensed and trembled, the powerful throb of your muscles as you rode the waves of your orgasm. He adored it. He wanted to give you more. More pleasure, more kisses, more love. He needed it. 

 As you came back down to earth, Giyuu kissed your pussy with such affection and tenderness your heart ached. He desired you, deeply and truly.

“I want–” he began, losing his voice to his shaking breath. “I want to be closer to you… can I…?”

You sat up, still trembling, anchoring your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him. The taste of you remained on his lips, mingled with the comforting scent of him. You wanted it too. You needed to be closer, to feel him inside you. 

Pulling him back down, you stroked a hand up the back of his neck as the other pressed his cock between your folds, coating the tip of it in your slick before pushing it into you.

Despite the fact he had already cum, he was entirely unprepared for sensation of fucking you. His back arched, pressing his pelvis firmly against yours, bottoming out in you suddenly and eliciting a cry from both of you as his feet slipped against the futon for purchase.

“F—fuuuck,” he gasped, lowering his head and gritting his teeth as his arms trembled beneath him. It was all too much. 

His body pressed to yours entirely, craving intimacy and closeness. He didn’t thrust–he couldn’t– he simply ground his hips against yours, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit as he gasped and the crease in his brow grew deeper. He was hanging on by a thread, overwhelmed and desperate to hold on, to make it last, to–

“Giyuu,” you whispered, placing your hand on his, “stay with me.”

He nodded, intertwining his fingers with yours and pulling in a breath. “Always… always.”

You held each other’s hand; that simple, innocent gesture of love and comfort, now more meaningful than ever. For years you had shared grief and guilt, loss and loneliness and the sweet comfort and solace you found in each other. And now you shared this. 

Giyuu Tomioka, that quiet boy whose hand once trembled in yours, now held firm and just as securely as you did him.

[captain-camille]

_𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞_

‣ Jack Sparrow x f!reader

‣ As a young woman of noble blood, society is a golden cage. There is no mention of you unless the subject is marriage or manners while your trip to Port Royal has become a rescue maneuver. One faithful night aboard the Dauntless you finally snap. And meet the captive Captain Jack Sparrow...

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 18+ language, old society rules, emotional chaos, very light angst ‣ 3,4k words

Your dress weighed heavy on your shoulders, the corset strangled your lungs to a delicate point where you began to feel dizzy.

Silver cutlery laid untouched next to your empty plate. The hunger had long passed. 

Either way was it impossible to properly eat with this torture device crushing your ribs. You would fetch a banana later.

“Miss Sheffield“ Lord Somerset hardly drew your attention while he adjusted his white wig “I find myself greatly invested in the many stories of your brother. They're indeed impressive, are they not?“.

It took nerves to hinder your eyes from rolling.

Instead, you gave him an appreciative but short nod. There was bitter sarcasm within the subtlety of your gesture.

Another man's head, adorned with a teal hat with feathers, turned towards you. Father.

“They are, clearly“. You verbally lend weight to your faux-assent as your father's stern gaze fixed on your face.

You suspected him pleased now.

However, his interest in you promptly vanished and a song of praise of someone else continued to fall from his pale lips.

Sweet, boisterous praise for your great brother, of course. 

You were sick of it but with time had begun to see it as an opportunity to reign over your own life as freely as possible.

For as long as possible.

Every eye and word was on your brother while you, the sister of the new Governor of Nassau and member of the Privy Council, were neigh invisible.

And still you could never leave the shiny prison that was the English noble society. Like living in a nightmare that had occasional sunlight in it but was full of madness anyway.

As the men's triumphant laughter echoed across the room, you pictured how Davy Jones' Locker would be a better place to bide your time.

Or maybe you should run away and live a seamstress' life. Alternatively, a barmaid.

In the corner of your vision you saw Norrington slightly leaning over to you. The new Commodore stationed in Port Royal, as he was.

“You look fabulous tonight, Miss“ he cooed, voice low.

His blue gaze rested on the glittering necklace you wore. A collective of silver, sapphires and pearls Lord Somerset had gifted you upon boarding the Dauntless.

Or perhaps Norrington's gaze laid on your cleavage but if so, he concealed it well.

He had to. Hell would come upon him.

You flashed him a polite smile and a demure “Thank you, Commodore“ before your eyes wandered off to the sea that was painted in the colors of a tropical sunset.

The windows were small but still incapable to diminish the glimmer. It went straight to your heart...

“Since you are a young woman, too-“ the man continued, hoisting a chalice to his lips. Beneath the table, your hand balled in a fist.

It did little to soothe your nerves, though.

“-I wondered whether you would think Elizabeth liked such jewelry as, um, a wedding gift?“ his smooth voice asked but the hesitant tone betrayed him.

You had long seen it in his eyes that Norrington's desires to marry Swann's daughter weren't as honest as he tried to make it seem.

Just as Elizabeth struggled to let go of the young blacksmith Will Turner she was currently trying to rescue.

Just fellow souls lost in this noble dilemma, you almost chuckled to yourself.

Luckily, you were quick enough to bridle any inner jests and looked back in Norrington's eyes.

“I’m most certain she would be delighted. However, it occurred to me that Miss Swann prefers silver to gold.“ you advised him before he got dragged back into a naval discussion with the men. 

Not even thanks were left for your input.

Once again your brother's name was thrown around like a cricket ball. 

The urge to just leave this charade of a dinner grew stronger while darkness began to fall upon the majestic Dauntless.

Candle light reflected in the men’s white and grey wigs like it would in the feathers of doltish pigeons.

Nearly scoffing, the focus of your eyes blurred.

Thoughts wandered off to the small bits of information you had grasped throughout the last two days; a business trip to Port Royal had turned into quite an amusing rescue maneuver as Norrington spotted the smoke signal Elizabeth was sending from a lonely island. 

She was brought onto the ship along with a mysterious pirate who turned out to be none other than the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow.

Lord, he seemed so different to the men you were used to. So interesting…

“Yn, the Lord's question was, would you be his companion on a visit to your brother?“ The raspy voice of your father suddenly cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife. 

You cleared your throat, hiding a muttered “god, no“ along the cough.

No, you simply couldn’t do this any longer tonight.

Tomorrow morning the misery would begin anew and the nights were too short anyway.

Dinner was over for you, you decided and shot up, heading towards the door. 

“Young Miss, where do you think you are going?“ your father called across the room, causing you to spin and face him along with everyone else seated on the grand table.

An unreadable expression settled on your face, lips moving on behalf of your temper. 

“Father, I do believe you won’t miss me much while conversing solely about my brother“. 

Norrington let out a shaky breath, his head turning to expect your father’s answer. Obviously, he was used to Elizabeth's docile manners.

The grey wig beneath Lord Sheffield's hat shifted slightly as he cocked his head.

He looked ridiculous. 

“Then go, yn. I do not have the time nor the patience for your behavior right now“ he sighed, waving his hand in an enervated gesture of dismissal “Check on Miss Swann when you pass by“.

The stingy sensation of the corset fighting your big breaths vexed you, along with your father's aloof attitude.

Nevertheless, he granted you exactly what you wanted; to leave and mind your own business.

A business that had preferably sparsely to do with these men.

“Thank you, sir. I will“ you curled your lips, forcing a hasty smile before your knees bent in a curtsy. “Lord Somerset, thank you again for the generous gift. Commodore“.

The Lord stood up with his chest puffed, trying to address you. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Sheffield. I wish you a good-“  

But the rest of his irrelevant set-phrase was cut off by the door closing behind your back. It snapped shut with a soft rock of the Dauntless.

As if she felt sorry for you.

Taking a big breath of the fresh sea breeze your tongue finally spoke some truth. “Damn you, Somerset“.

It felt good, even if it did little to improve your situation.

You knew you had to get away from the cabins or else your words of pent-up frustration would eventually find them.

Maybe you would find solace on the quarterdeck instead?

As you marched up the stairs with a grimace on your face from how impractical the heavy dress was, a young maid brushed past you with filled wineglasses on a silver tray. 

She smiled with respect, but could barely hide her excited look at the luxurious necklace.

Her soft lips parted when she spoke up in awe “If I may, Baron Somerset really is doting upon you, Miss“.

At her comment, the matching earrings with the similarly cut sapphires began to itch.

“So it seems“ you answered flatly, still trying your best not to let it all out on the innocent girl. 

“I happen to have overheard him talking about how beautiful your children would be“ she added with enthusiasm, unaware of your aversion to said nobleman.

You felt your gut twist and tighten at the vision alone. 

Children with this man? No.

On the brink of screaming or crying, your hand flew up to grab one of the glasses.

“Did he now?“ You hoisted it and bathed your upper lip in the sweet taste of Portuguese wine “Golden me“. 

Hearing her colleague call for her, the maid quickly curtsied and made her way down to the main cabin.

You sighed heavily, taking another sip.

Up on the spacious quarterdeck you wasted no time, set the glass down on a random barrel and began to take off your earrings. 

They were burning on your skin now.

Anger, chagrin and despair rioted in your veins like a hurricane.

So untamed, you didn’t even notice the man at the helm observing your actions through curious eyes.

“To hell-“ you shouted, kicking your right foot so that your shoe flew overboard in a wide arc “with you, father“ the other shoe followed suit.

“And Somerset“ you tossed one earring into the black sea, holding the other one while you unhooked the expensive necklace.

You didn’t hesitate a second to proceed with this macabre yet somehow weirdly freeing act of rebellion.

With your right arm outstretched, jewelry in your hands, you stood at the ship’s railing, wind in your face.

“And to the depths with this society of hypocrites and it's stupid rules“ your now hoarse voice exclaimed bitterly before your tossing arm got stopped mid way. 

What?

Twisting on your stocking feet, you ended up only inches away from Jack Sparrow’s face who was grinning at you with a pleased sparkle in his dark eyes.

You didn't dare to breathe, mouth agape.

He was still holding onto your arm even though you had lowered it in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Not good. Ye wouldn't wanna be doin' that, lassie“ the pirate purred, gold teeth adding to the captivating shine of his eyes.

Since the Navy took him prisoner, you had never spoken to him. Only eves-dropped when he had persuaded Norrington as if it was easy.

And now you could feel his breath fan across your face, the scent of the sea and rum intoxicating your brain.

Slowly, he unwrapped and lifted his fingers off your arm. One by one like a fan.

“Why not? You cannot stop me“ you eventually found your courage again and yanked your arm away. 

The man scrunched his brows, lips closing. The many trinkets in his dreadlocks clinked as Sparrow cocked his head.

Your eyes were slaves to his eccentric mimic for a little while before you finally got to step back.

His presence somehow calmed you down, brought your nerves to a halt. All the way to the point where you remembered your manners.

“My apologies, Mister Sparrow. I didn’t mean to-“ you began to apologize for the snappy behavior but he interjected with a finger pointing at you.

“Never be sorry for disobeying rules that aren't worth following, luv“.

Irritated by the unexpectedly wise words, you found yourself at a loss for an answer.

This man was a real pirate after all. The closest thing to an anarchical life there was. 

Your heart pumped awe through your veins that began to pacify the storm within. 

Features dropping from trained, polite distance to honest distress, your gaze darted down to the jewelry in your hand. It was worth at least as much as your entire collection of summer gowns. 

The blue stones seemed somewhat black tonight.

As grim as your future. With Somerset. Or any other noble, dim-witted aristocrat. 

The pirate just stood and watched the tragic poem being written all over your beautiful face. His silence allowed the gears in your mind to shift.

Then, you seemed put.

“What even are you doing at the helm, Sparrow?“ You asked to avoid any potential questions when you mindlessly chucked the bundle of jewelry to him.

He grinned again as an audible clink and clatter signaled you that he had caught it.

You were sure that Sparrow had a better use for it than you did. Whatever it may be.

Admittedly, you would have just thrown it overboard or locked it away in a random jewel casket for eternity.

A husky gravel met your ears when he cleared his throat after sinking the necklace deep into the inside pocket of his brown jacket.

It was as if he knew you didn't have any expectation of thanks or desire for inquiring about your deed.

“Isla de la Muerta can only be found by those who already know where it is-“.

Slow steps of heavy boots on wooden tiles neared you from your left.

“And rumors have it me, meself and I have a heading Norrington doesn’t, savvy?“ Sparrow slurred, snapping open a compass as he leaned his back against the railing next to you.

With your eyes raking over the dusk ocean, you couldn’t help but risk a peak over to his hands.

You grimaced. The compass obviously didn’t point north.

Was he tricking the Commodore?

Suddenly, Jack chuckled, clearly having seen your expression.

“Nah... tale for another night“ he simply stated closing the small, brown box again.

His intense gaze crawled all over your side profile and pinned updo. “Tell me somethin’ about ye, Missy. Plagued by those wig-suckers, eh?“ 

You gave a snort of laughter, enjoying his unfiltered way of addressing the men you were used to calling 'Lord', 'Governor' or 'Commodore'.

“You know exactly who I am. Do not call me Missy“ you snapped, biting down a playful smile no one had ever elicited as easily as the foreign pirate did.

Perhaps it should worry you but it didn’t in the slightest. 

Jack arched his figure to lean back more and study your edged expression from the front. You tried to shoot him an unfazed look but the pirate saw right through it and smiled widely. 

How he could read you so emphatically was far beyond what you were used to from men. It confused you. 

Just as it puzzled Jack that your behaviour was so devoid of any of the hospitality and judgement he had come to expect from your class.

It only drew the both of you deeper into whatever this conversation would become.

“Apologies, me bad. Miss Sheffield“ his deep voice cooed, finally cracking your surface and putting a soft blush on your cheeks.

“It never occurred to me that Pirates can be this charming“ you snickered with a hint of irony, eyes resting on Sparrow’s unique features for a moment.

His tanned skin was reflecting the flickering light of oil lamps. Sparrow was a handsome man, you realized.

Effortlessly and in tune with the ship's rocking, the man pushed off the railing to trail behind you.

“I always expected Pirates to be more- rogue, I suppose“ you mused, more to yourself.

Sparrow tsk'ed but he didn't seem hurt.

Your head cocked when you felt his hot breath close to the nape of your neck.

“A Shilling that I can alter your outlook on Pirates all by me onesies, eh?“ His comment was nonchalant and smug but in a swinging way.

This man had nerves. 

“Didn't I just give you a collier worth far more than one Shilling?“ you asked rhetorically, amplifying the perky tone.

The pirate hummed, as if contemplating. “Alright, then. Consider your debt paid“.

It was utterly refreshing to converse so freely without any rules or boundaries. You grew fond of it with every passing second. 

When Sparrow didn’t re-appear on your other side, you turned around to spot him chugging down the wine you had abandoned in your rage.

“Sorry, it’s no rum but-“

“-good. That’s good“ he complimented the red liquid, analyzing the ornate chalice through narrowed eyes before he sat it back down.

Carefully, with his pinky stretched out with decorum.

You caught yourself giggling but promptly covered your mouth with a palm. Habits. 

“So, Miss Sheffield...“ the pirate urged you, swaggering closer until he stood by your side again. His elbows were quickly propped on the reddish railing.

“Pray tell“.

You sighed. However, the will to empty your heart was unbreakable. 

It was easier when your gaze found shelter in the darkness of the Caribbean night but Sparrow’s stare lingered on you nonetheless. 

“I- I feel like- No, I am trapped. Trapped in a golden cage with only dull bumbles who want to possess women of standing as if they were accessories for their prevalence-striven plans“ you began to complain, your words gaining speed and intensity throughout the sentence. 

Honest pity flashed behind the pirate's charcoal outlined eyes.

The man had never thought he was capable of pitying those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

And still, there he stood, stricken by the pain in your melodic voice.

You gasped for air, your mind wanting to go on but your throat began to burn on the verge of crying.

“I must behave according to the rules of society, no matter what it is I truly desire. All the poisoned praise goes to my brother while I am only of importance when the subject of my marriage is discussed“.

“Ye brother be the new Governor of Nassau?“ Sparrow eventually asked, his gaze sliding down to where your nails were nervously scratching lines into the wooden railing.

You couldn’t help but scoff in annoyance of his title. “Yes, that be him“. 

The man next to you shrugged his shoulders, the trinkets and charms once again clinking. You would love to find out where he got each of them from.

“I could, in fact, sack Nassau port for ye as soon as I rip me Pearl from Barbossa’s slimy, old hands“ a tad of disgust infused his bold words at the foreign name.

“Jus' a humble offer. What ye say, lassie?“. 

Sparrow was trying to cheer you up.

A small smile began to reign over your lips again, toes curling. “That would only get you killed, fierce pirate“ you noted, trying to sound as judicious and rational as possible.

Instead, he grinned even broader and spread his arms in an eccentric, self-presenting pose. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, luv“ he declared as if it was self-explanatory.

For the first time in a while the sea breeze caught and carried your sincere laughter.

Sparrow’s braided goatee twitched as he found himself biting his lip at the pretty sound and look.

You were a stunning woman in noble clothes with noble blood in your veins but with a spirit as wild and ravenous as his own.

You enthralled him.

“Bring this to my daughter. She shall eat, at least. The Commodore risks too much by rescuing young Turner, he cannot afford to see his fiancé unwell“ Governor Swann’s order suddenly boomed across the main deck, followed by hasty steps of a maid.

Instinctively, Sparrow snaked his hand around your shoulder, across your chest and pulled you back with him.

Out of sight.

His rough hand on your mouth muffled a shrill cry just enough. 

“They thinkin’ yer asleep, eh, Miss Sheffield?“ His voice was lowered, almost just a husk and yet it was filled with this mischievous, flirtatious tone.

God, this man sent shivers down your spine like no other. 

But he was still a lawless pirate.

A prisoner, even.

Suddenly, whyever, the gravity of your situation and the futility of tonight's zeal made you feel how cold and wet the floor was without shoes.

Brown dreadlocks pressed against the back of your head irrevocably disheveled your updo. 

“Asleep, as I should be...“ you muttered, infused with a hint of re-surfacing anger and despair.

You wriggled yourself out of his protective grasp. The pirate's brow was raised, eyes narrowed on your face.

There was a haze of danger and waywardness about Jack Sparrow that made you question your own courage and spirit. 

“Why did I even tell you all that in the first place?“ you exclaimed, hands thrown up. Slowly stepping away from him, you felt all the emotions crushing your mind.

��You most likely do not care, neither do I profit by wailing. It doesn’t bear contemplating...“.

Sparrow wrapped his right hand back around the handle of the helm, looking rather unfazed by the confusion that was spreading in your system like the Portuguese wine in his own. 

Heavy silence and the occasional laughter from the men in the Captain’s cabin mingled with the soft splash of sea water. 

Your feelings were now as erratic as the rhythm of the crashing waves.

“Look 'ere, luv“.

Your gaze was just about to turn from pleading to the usual bored emptiness as you saw his free hand wander down to his leather belt.

A smirk adorned his bearded face when skilled fingers rapidly detached the compass and threw it over to you.

Stumbling slightly as the ship rocked, you caught the brown box before it could hit the ground.

You heard Sparrow mutter a muted “Thank god“ that made you want to snap at him but the gesture was too interesting not to query.

Why would he think you needed a compass?

Fluster painted your features when you met his weirdly satisfied expression.

“Aren’t you Captain Jack Sparrow? Don’t you need a compass for... that?“ You asked with less challenge in your tone than initially planned.

He chuckled beautifully, shaking his head with eyes closed.

“What?“ You probed when his dark gaze began to rise up from the floor, along your figure.

“I may be without me compass but not without heading and a plan“ the pirate finally explained, taking another step closer to the helm “You, contrastingly and tragically, lack both“. 

Your arms came up and crossed defensively in front of your chest.

But his words and the tight corset made you drop them again rather quickly. 

He was right. You had been lamenting about your situation barely three minutes ago.

“So? What exactly is your compass going to change about that, Sparrow?“.

You peered down at the inconspicuous looking box.

“Everythin'.“ Sparrow stated with a touch of mystery. “Listen what ye heart wants and the compass is gonna give ye a heading, savvy?“.

A big part of you wanted to believe what this infuriatingly interesting man promised while another voice was whispering to you how it was literal magic he was implying.

Magic. 

With a hesitant gesture of offering it back to him, you hoped to find out which voice to listen to.

“But you would want it back, right? It is yours after all“ you commented your action with genuine concern and a small smile.

Plus, the fear that Norrington would kill Jack if he couldn’t find the Isla without his compass. 

Captured by the pirate for one last time, you watched his gold teeth flash in a wide grin, his tattooed hand spreading on his chest as a sign of integrity.

He was being honest, you felt it.

“I will be gettin’ it back, luv. Don't ye worry“. 

Before you creeped down the stairs and eventually headed for your cabin to ponder on your heart's desires, the last you saw of Captain Jack Sparrow was a charming wink. 

The last for now, at least.

♡ thank you so much for reading my very first POTC fic ever ♡

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐨

@mochie85 @holdmytesseract @socksracoon10 @goldencherriess @chronicallybubbly @kcd15 @always-on-hiatus

[blondbrat]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 1 : 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ‘23

𐙚 Rafe Camerons!breeding kink

warnings ; smut, breeding kink, f!reader

Rafe who doesn’t love family ‘get togethers’ with a grumpy attitude and noticeable frown :(( maybe their more enjoyable with other families? families who weren’t obsessed with the latter of success and violence? rafe included. it just seemed pointless to him. unnecessary opportunities to argue and manipulate. that’s the only aspects of family he had ever known. until he had met you of course !!

here he was. letting u squeeze your delicate hand over his. fingers enlaced as you two walked down the stairs, into the buzzing yearly Christmas party.

he didn’t want you being there :(( you were like a ray of sunshine — his bubbly, sweet princess. your beaming grin on ur beautiful face was just so pure to him. he felt so overprotective !! letting his angel in the same house same room even as his psycho family just felt so wrong !!

but you convinced him everything would be all right !! he didn’t believe ur sweet words until he found himself leaning against the kitchen counter, listening to petty drama and chatter — he truly hated these kinds of things !! a pounding headache forming in rafes blond head :( his family were truly the humbugs of christmas in his eyes.

he could have sworn your pretty hand was curled in his. until he realized they weren’t, where did u go?? where the fucks his pretty girl? he couldn’t help but panic a bit, this was his crazy family after all !! his blue eyes darting around every room as he frantically looked for you. but rafe was just being protective as always, finally letting himself breathe when he found u upstairs, in the playroom he and Sarah used as kids. now all occupied with his darling little cousins, and you?

rafe was in awe. watching u play dollies with his little cousin darla <3 the brightest smile spread on ur face. simply playing with his lil cousins as ur eyes meet his, sapphire and laced in adoration. giving him a sweet grin. could you be any more angelic? any more beautiful? of course you were drawn to the adorable babies ((: taking not a single notice to his families tension — and letting ur bubbly mind find probably the only bright area of the party !!

u stood up, scurrying over to him as you smooched him a cheeky kiss. “m’ sorry, were you looking for me?”

“I sure was, baby.. your good with kids y’now” why was he smirking? oh !!

it isn’t long before he has you bent over his desk (!! his family still downstairs !!) thick thighs sprawled open as he pounds into ur puffy cunnty !! ur cock drunk lashes fluttering back as ur drooled over mouth let’s out pretty moans !! <3 his deep voice spurring praises like a prayer ‘fuck baby, so fucking’ good with kids’ ‘gonna look so pretty with a baby belly princess’ ‘cummin’ in ur pretty pussy like u fucking deserve’ hes a man of his word. ur gummy walls squeezing his cock as he slams agaisnt ur cervix. thick, warm ropes of cum spurring right into ur womb. how could u not cry out in ectasy? ‘need’ta be quiet’ he groaned. he couldn’t control himself !! u were so warm, so sweet — how could he not fill you with his creamy cum?!— “can’t think of a better gift baby, your gonna be the mother of my baby sweet thing” of course it doesn’t stop after one round !! u’d just look so beautiful with his blond lil baby !! ((:

[sapphire-scarletta-wol]

I just had this thought awhile ago and now I am curious to see what y'all would think.

Imagine a scenario where they have to fight the Wol with all their strength,maybe the Wol got possessed(again),lost control,or whatever final fantasy shenanigans would happen,which of them would have the best chance of defeating the Wol?

~~~~~~~

Edit: I forgot editing posts exist so imma just put this in here too

So I didn't expect this to blow up this BIG

But thank you to all the interactions even if it's just a poll,it's been fun reading all the tags and such!

I just want to give a little update thought on this as the tags and reblogs gave great points on all sides.

Mostly I was thinking of a situation where the Wol does not need to be killed,rather just pacified or beaten up enough to make them return to their normal self.

I still think raha is the strongest and best candidate for this,he has the CT on his side,an all rounder,knows the Wol incredibly well,has 300+ years of experience,has matured a lot as the exarch,mayhaps even be an 8th rejoined shard,made time travel and world hopping basically possible,and a handful of other powerful tricks and spells on his sleeve.

In the case of a situation of killing the Wol,I believe raha would have a much harder time as of course he would never ever want to do that ever and would rather die first than think of that so either estinien or y'shtola is the better candidate.

The answer also changes depending on the specific Wol one has

( in my case,sapphire is a monk and a dark knight,but is incredibly dense as lyse.she would be too fast for y'shtola to properly finish her spells though she is a lot smarter and could easier use tactics to confuse her,estinien could hold his own against her but would be defeated nonetheless.even with nidhoggs power we have defeated him once so when it comes to pure strength,Wol beats him. Lastly comes raha,he is incredibly smart and just as versatile with 3 classes to keep in pace with her,combine that with his intellect and he can form a plan while defending himself long enough to either deal enough damage to her or bring her back to normal.that or prolly have someone else do the final blow.)

I would like to formally apologize to alphinaud as it took him 1k votes for someone to finally vote him,I did not mean to bully you 😞

[throneofsmut]

Sweet Little Prince

Dorian Havilliard x Reader || WC: 1.9k || Warnings: None

Summary: Dorian finds out he has a son he didn’t know about. Based on this req.

A/N: Whoever req this i hope you like it. Idk if this is what you expected but it’s what came to mind.

****

Your son had finally fallen asleep causing you to let out a relieved sigh as you brush back his raven-black curls from his face.

A smile gracing your lips before placing a kiss on his forehead and quietly making your way out of his room, heading down stairs back to the kitchen.

You find Rowan putting the chocolate cake into the oven to bake.

“You finished it?” you ask as you step up beside the oven. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I didn’t know how long you’d be.” He replies without looking over his shoulder at you. “And I know you want to get the recipe just right for his birthday tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

He gives you a nod before rising to his full height again and moving to the sink to wash his hands. “Your sister wants to talk to you.”

“About what?” You lean on the island that’s in the middle of the kitchen.

Rowan turns around facing you as he dries his hands. He doesn’t say anything until he’s done and places the damp towel on the counter. “About you being Queen of Terrasen and ruling beside her. Together.”

You shake your head, brows furrowed, “Since the war ended, I think I made it pretty clear I don’t want to be Queen.”

“Why?”

“I told you, why already. You, Aelin and Aedion. I don’t want it.”

“Tell me again.”

“Rowan—“

“Tell me.”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, glaring at him for a moment before telling him. Again. “I don’t want to rule. I don’t want a crown or a throne. I have no taste for duty. I’m not suited for it.”

He crosses his arms across his chest. “Have you ever considered that, the best ruler, might be someone who doesn’t want to rule?”

A small chuckle slips through your lips earning a glare from him. “No, I don’t. Because I don’t want it.”

“Your sister just thinks that—“

Aelin walks through the front door of your cottage, “I just think that, it’d be safer for both of you if you moved into the castle and were crowned. She reaches the two of you in a few long strides. “You would be Queen and he”—your son—“would be the crowned Prince.”

Now it’s your turn to cross your arms across your chest. “He’s technically already a prince and I’m capable of keeping us both safe here—in our home. We don’t need to be in the castle.”

Your sister’s—your twin’s— face softens and she walks up to you. “I know he is,” she says gently. “I know you are. . . but please think about it. And if you don’t want to be Queen here, what about Adarlan? Dorian keeps asking about you.”

“Aelin,” you sigh, “you’ve been telling me to ‘think’ about it for two years now and I don’t want it. Or Adarlan’s”

She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can your son’s voice cuts her off.

“Mommy?” he calls out. “Mommy, where are you?”

“Coming, baby,” you call back.

Aelin steps back and you make your way upstairs to his room. As soon as you walk into his room he sits up in his bed. “I hear Aunty Aelin and Uncle Wowan, downstairs.”

“Did they wake you up?” You ask as you sit on the side of his bed.

He nods his head, rubbing his eyes—one sapphire blue and one bright ashryver blue, ringed with gold—“Can I say ‘hi’?”

You breathe out a small laugh, nodding, “You can say ‘hi’ but then you have to go back to sleep.”

He nods his head and lifts his arms for you to pick him up.

You head back downstairs with him in your arms. His head resting on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around you.

Aelin and Rowan both walk up to meet you, closing the distance. “How’s my favorite nephew?” Aelin coos.

“He’s your only nephew,” Rowan points out. Which earns him a glare from your sister.

“Say ‘hi,’ baby.”

“Hi, Aunty Aelin. Hi Uncle Wowan.” His little voice is still thick with sleep.

They both greet him back with loving smiles.

“Why are you awake, little prince? We trained a lot today.” Rowan asks him as he brushes a rogue raven-black curl behind his little pointed ear.

“I hear you and Aunty Aelin and I wanted to say ‘hi’.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” Aelin praises.

Your son smiles, his cheeks dimpling, and he turns to look at you. You can’t help but beam at him in return. Your own cheeks dimpling too.

He lightly tugs a golden blonde lock of your hair before whispering—not so quietly—“I go sleep now?”

“Yeah, baby.” You chuckle before giving Aelin and Rowan a quick look and they nod back at you.

And as soon as you’re done tucking him back in he’s sleeping. You kiss his forehead before heading back down stairs, “Sweet dreams,” your whisper into his night filled room.

“Fireheart!” Rowan scolds your sister as she shoves a forkful of steaming chocolate cake into her mouth.

She spits it out before even chewing it and you frown. “That bad?”

She shakes her head, brows furrowing sadly, “No. It’s too hot.”

“I told you to wait,” Rowan grumbles.

“Anyways,” you drawl out. “Why’d you come so late, Aelin?”

“My meetings ran long today and I had an unexpected visitor come.” She blows on a new forkful of cake to cool it down. “They’re going to be visiting for the week.”

You arch a brow, “Who?”

“A friend.”

Your gaze slid to Rowan, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’ve been here all day.” And he was right. He’d been here since the morning teaching and training your son because the raw magic he’d inherited from his father began showing.

And a two—practically three—year old with raw magic and fae ancestry needed to be taught control early it seemed.

Also because fae males—even half fae males were deadly. Rowan and Aedion knew that so they came and helped you teach your son control. Fenrys and Lorcan had given up after your son had learned to summon fire and burned off their eyebrows.

Aelin groaned as she chewed a new bite of cake. “Good?” you asked. She nodded, still not finished chewing her first bite before getting another. “Are you still going to be able to make it to his birthday tomorrow?”

She gave you a look as if to say, Obviously, before finally telling you with words. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Your sister and Rowan said their goodnights and Rowan had to practically drag her out because she was still trying to eat the chocolate cake. So to make it easier for both of them you just told her to take the whole thing with her. Her eyes glinted as soon as the words left your mouth.

You woke up early the next day to get everything ready for your son's third birthday and you had practically finished setting up and getting ready by the time Aedion and Lysandra came to help set up.

An hour later the rest of Aelin’s court—your little family—arrived.

Everyone was enjoying themselves and eating while your son and Lorcan and Elide’s daughter played together while Evangeline watched over them.

You got up from the table to go get the cake, still needing to frost it and add the candles.

Aedion rose with you, “Do you need help?”

Giving him a small smile as you gestured for him to sit back down, “No, I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick.” You reassured him.

Setting the cake on the counter that was in front of the window where you could still see your son playing with his cousins. He was conjuring fishes with his water magic and making them dive in and out of the lake in front of him. His cheeks dimpled as he laughed along with the girls.

You were so distracted by your son and the cake that you didn’t hear anyone walk in until they called your name.

“Y/n?” He called.

You stilled as your heart dropped before slowly turning around. The frosting spatula clutched so tightly in your hand your knuckles were white.

“Dorian,” you breathed.

He was still as beautiful as you remembered him. Tall, tan skin, sapphire eyes and raven-black hair. But, he was broader now—more muscular. And in place of the black collar that was around his neck the last time you saw him was a pale line.

“Why— How—“ he stammered.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m visiting. . . I got here yesterday evening and Aelin said you were all celebrating a birthday and invited me.” You were going to kill her.

“You settled.” He pointed out, his eyes taking you in.

Even though he wasn’t necessarily asking, you responded anyway. “Yes.”

“How? You’re twenty, I thought you weren’t going to settle for a few more years.”

“I didn’t think so either, but, uh, I actually settled while I was pregnant.”

Dorian’s face flickered with so many different emotions before he schooled his features and simply asked, “Pregnant?”

“Yeah. . . and not only did I settle but my son’s magic made me fully fae.” You didn’t know why you were just telling him everything. “The healers don’t know how either, but him being half fae confirmed it.”

“Son?”

“It’s his birthday today,” you told him.

Dorian’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything your son’s laugh drifted all the way back to the cottage and cut him off. His sapphire eyes shot to the window and he sucked in a sharp breath.

There was no denying the resemblance. He knew he was the father of your son.

His gaze turned back to you and there was so much pain and regret in his eyes but hope too. Maybe even love. “Why didn’t you tell me?” was all he said though.

“I was going to,” you admitted. “But before I got the chance to,” your voice cracked, “your father ordered you to kill me when he found me trying to talk to you.” A tear rolled down your cheek and he stepped closer to you and wiped it away. “So I ran. To keep us both”—your son and you—“alive.”

Your words weren’t malicious, just honest.

“You don’t remember?”

His eyes were still on you as he shook his head before looking out through the window again. “I missed so much,” he whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry.”

Dorian pulled you into a hug, “Don’t be. You’re both here. Safe and alive. That’s all I care about.” His words made you cry harder and he only held you tighter and kissed the top of your head.

You both were so caught up in your own world that you didn’t hear the little footsteps that bounded into the kitchen.

“Mommy?” Your son called and you and Dorian pulled apart.

He walked up to you and you crouched down to get to his level. “Why you crying?” He asked, his small hands wiping away your tears.

“I’m just so happy, my sweet little prince.”

He smiled and turned to look at Dorian. “Are you mommy’s friend?”

Dorian chuckled as he crouched down too, tears welling up in his eyes, as he looked at a small version of himself. “Yes. Her best friend.”

Your son smiled impossibly wider and stuck his hand out towards him and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Dowian.”

Dorian looked at you and this time a tear fell. He cleared his throat, taking your son’s hand, “Hi, Dorian. My name is Dorian too.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part three)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

After his proposal, the reader and Aemond have a heated confrontation in the gardens.

themes/warnings: jealous!possessive!Aemond (no surprise that I have to write this for every part of this story... I mean...), angst, language

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

"Will you choose me?"

That managed to stop you in your tracks. Will you choose him? As if you had not chosen him over and over, at every turn, every proposal - only for him to choose to lie with another woman in the end.

And what is worse, he does not seem to find his actions wrong, only defending them. For the good of the realm, he says. 

But what if he is sincere about marrying you? Will it only be you, for all time, war be damned? Knowing Aemond, it will not be that simple. 

You feel caught in a snare, helpless, for but a second. Weighing your options in your mind. 

Yes. Perhaps. No. Fuck you, and your witch. 

Your mind finally settles, and you turn to face him, your face cold and unreadable. "That has to be the most selfish thing you have ever said to me."

Aemond appears stunned, unmoving, as he watches you stride towards him. 

“Selfish? My desire to be wed to you is a selfish thing?” he asks.

You approach him quickly, breathing heavy as words spill out of your mouth. “I know you, Aemond. Tell me this. Why do you wish to marry me now, after all this time? Why did you not do it fucking seven, eight moons ago? You only want this now because you know that I am serious about getting married to someone else. And what of the unspoken understanding between us that we could never do so because you are a Targaryen, oh great one, and I come from a lowly House of cattle-tending farmers?” You sound venomous, unrestrained, but you do not much care.

Aemond matches you in your ferocity, when he says, “Is that truly what you think? That I would marry you for some foolish reason? That I would do so on a whim? It is true that my family, the council, and perhaps the smallfolk will frown upon our union, but you know what?” He grips your elbow, and you can feel his ragged breathing fanning your face as he drags you closer. “I don’t care anymore. I have always wanted this, and I should get what I want. After everything I have done, all that I have sacrificed for this war, I deserve to marry for love.”

“No, you - ”

“Listen to me, my love,” he leans in, close enough to capture your lips in his if he wishes to. “I’d rather burn everything to the ground, rather than watch you wed another fucking man. I thought you were already well aware of this?” 

His lips brush against your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and he whispers, “Do not underestimate my love for you. You’re mine, do you hear? Perhaps you will try to be with someone else, with that Ramsay. But know that it will not end well for him.”

You understand that he is not speaking lightly. That he will make do on his threat if need be. Dangerous, intense, cunning. This was the Aemond you fell in love with, so why should you be taken aback  at his words? You crave all of this, all that he truly is.

But you had also thought that all of this, all of him, was only yours. 

“No,” you breathe.

“What?”

“My answer is no,” you repeat. “I cannot marry you. Not like this.”

“Because of him?” Aemond accuses. 

“Not exactly,” you meet his eye and find a storm of emotion resting there. “You know that I would marry you in a heartbeat.” You remember when he said the same, but it does not sit right with you that he could only have said that out of desperation. Just as he is asking for your hand now, in the heat of the moment. 

“Then we shall have it done. On the morrow, if that is what you wish, my love - ”

“But we cannot marry when I do not trust you. When I cannot be certain that you will not go scurrying back to bed with Alys each time you require her visions or her spells.”

Aemond implores, “But it should all end soon. The war… we shall be sure to prevail against our enemies. And then I will have no further use for her. We can have her banished or mutilated for all I care.” 

Typical of Aemond to be so thick-headed, and to stick to his ambition.  So will he lie with Alys a few more times, breaking your heart, after he has just professed to love and marry you? “I cannot have that.”

“Do you not understand - ”

“I understand perfectly,” you almost hiss at him in your exasperation. “If you wish to wed me, then you cannot have anyone else. By the gods, you should not even remotely desire to be with anyone else, for any reason. Whether it be for the fucking realm, I do not care.”

You pry yourself away from his hold, every step walking back from him giving you room to just breathe. “The very thought of you with her, the truth of it happening, sickens me to my core.” 

Laughing menacingly, you add, “Just as the thought of myself with Ramsay angers you so. Tell me, my love - what would you do if I were to ride him, as Alys does you?”

Aemond glares daggers at you, his jaw clenching so hard in his rage.

He seethes, “You would never get the chance. I will bury him long before then.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” you raise your hands in surrender. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“You do not get to simply leave - ” He starts to say, but he is interrupted by someone else rounding the corner.

“Brother,” Aegon greets, an ornate cup of wine held loosely in one hand. Several members of his Kingsguard shadow him, a few paces away.  “How come you get to escape our council meetings out here, whilst I waste away with those droll sycophants?”

“Aegon,” Aemond greets, his voice giving away irritation at his brother’s intrusion. “I had no standing affairs today, and I am occupied with something else.”

“Someone else, you mean to say,” Aegon raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Nice to see you again, my lady.”

“Your Grace,” you curtsy. “I shall take my leave, so that you might speak to Aemond in private.”

Aegon responds lightly. “Stay, if you please. I do have something to ask you as well. And what is with the ‘Your Grace’? It is just Aegon to you, as always.”

“Of course, Your G-” you catch yourself, smiling now. “I mean, Aegon.” Aemond’s siblings have been more than civil towards you, and if everything else were simpler, then you might even call them your friends. 

Now and then, Aegon would make a comment about your status in poor taste, though he means well. One of them being, “What a shame you cannot be made my good-sister through Aemond. The family would surely wed the pair of you, if only you had been a Lady Baratheon, or gods, even a Lannister, though I find the lot of them unbearable. What a shame.”

“So,” Aegon excitedly clasps his hands together, preparing to share some piece of news. “I’ll be holding a small gathering on the morrow. A supper of sorts. Only a few chosen people. Our inner circle, which includes you, my lady.” He wags his finger at you, playfully.

“A feast? Won’t it be improper, Aegon?” Aemond asks, with a tired sigh, already used to his brother’s proclivities. 

“Not a feast, dear brother. A small, subdued supper.” Aegon looks to you for support, and you shrug in agreement. He takes a step closer, whispering to you in secret, “It is a feast, actually.” You have to bite back a laugh at his absurdity. It’s somewhat hard to believe that Aegon is the face of the Greens - their cause, their reason to wage this brutal war. Was he not just a young boy who did not choose any of this? A neglected son who was forced to abandon his dream of escape? A crown of thorns thrust upon him in spite of his resistance?

“Aegon - ” Aemonds warns, wary of his brother’s proximity to you. What in the seven hells could he be saying?

“Aemond,” Aegon sings in response, unfazed. “I’ve said my piece. My lady, I shall have my guards escort you when it’s time.” 

“Alright,” you say, aware of Aemond’s watchful stare on you. In a split decision, or mayhaps a calculated move, you find yourself requesting, “do you mind terribly if I take Lord Ramsay Beesbury as my companion?”

“Oh, him?” Aegon looks to his brother, weighing his reaction, and immediately growing amused at the fury that he sees. “Well, you may take whomever you please, my lady.”

“She may not,” Aemond quickly counters. 

Aegon merely grins, “It’s my party, brother.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“I am your King,” Aegon states. “My word is final.”

"You could be the Smith himself, and I still would not care. She will not be taking him." Aemond says firmly. Only he can talk back to Aegon in such a way, and he surely takes advantage of this when he can.

They lock eyes, until Aegon bursts in a fit of unbridled laughter, his wine sloshing out of his cup.

"Gods be fucking good," Aegon wheezes. "You can hardly control yourself, dear brother." Winking at you, he says, "I suppose there is a damn good reason why they call us Greens. Aemond here is practically greener than Vhagar's slimy old scales with envy."

"Seven hells." Aemond curses in exasperation. Still, after all that, he throws you a look of warning.

You only smile sweetly in return, your mind already made up.

Satisfied with the outcome of this exchange, you nod to both of them, "I shall take my leave, Aegon. Aemond. But we shall see you on the morrow. Thank you for the invitation."

Aemond bristles at your emphasis on we.

Yet he cannot help but watch in adoration as you walk away, your skirts billowing lightly in the wind. His woman.

That Ramsay will not be able to anticipate what's coming for him.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading all of your comments from the previous parts!! Glad we are all on the same page - Aemond should suffer 🤷🏻‍♀️ (or at least, grovel and prove himself, for the next few chapters.)

taglist: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @aemondswifeisme @bash1018 @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstoms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @youtoldalie @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @whitejuliana1204 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ananas26t @iloveallmyboys @carriellie @summerposie @verycollectivecreator @toodlesxcuddles @brie-annwyl @dc-marvel-girl96 @bellstwd @bibli0thecary @happinessinthebeing @magnificentsapphiresoul

[blueberrypancakesworld]

You are ours - Greens

Greens x fem!reader (hostage)

characters : Aemond, Aegon ii, Helaena, Alicent, Criston

warning : hostage (capture), hurt/comfort, implied obsession, emotional, kiss, war, fear, implied death, smut (lightly implied), targaryen incest, f/f, m/f, no use of Y/n

Summary : Captured as a hostage before the escape of the blacks, the princess of the realm could do nothing but finally hope for rescue while the color green enveloped her more and more in emotions that went far beyond hate and love.

info : yes yes the second season is coming up in a few weeks and even if the war about the two teams breaks out on the internet, both teams will be played here. So have fun and a peaceful read :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ameond : The second prince of the realm, the prince after Daemon his uncle, the prince after his brother the king, the prince who was the sworn sword for his brother.

After the Blacks had retreated from King's Landing and Rhaenys had fled with her dragon, they had managed to lock a room so that she could not escape. ,,It seems your cousin has forgotten you,” came his words with a hint of scorn from his fine lips as he pushed aside the bar of the privacy screen and looked into the spacious room of his father's sister.

The former sole princess of the realm, handsome and beautiful, guarded the youngest of the three royal children at the time, only a few years younger than his uncle Daemon…and yet she surpassed everything in beauty. ,,Princess Rhaenys had to flee, I would have stopped her,” she said, giving him a warning look that they both knew would come to nothing as the violet of her eyes met his, his eyes flashing every time he saw her.

And he often did that the first few days they exchanged words, her knowing him rejected him, his teasing forcing her to react. He looked at her through the slit during the day and at night when she slept she could feel his gaze on her, fascination and ulterior motives.

Her nephew the prince, the son of her beloved brother king…and yet she had to thank him because it was apparently he who brought her out of her room one day. ,,A princess of the realm should not be left alone in her room,” he said and let her out, accepting her words of thanks with a grin before she moved forward through the castle, Ameond always behind her.

,,A hostage should always be watched, shouldn't she?” she asked as she walked with him into the garden, a place where she could finally feel the air, smell something different from the distress and finally see the sun with the sky, the sky where she once flew with her dragon Dreamfyre before it passed to Helaena…she had been passed over.

But these words amused Ameond even more she stood with her back to him but her eyes met violet again violet of lavender flowers. She did not escape him like a dragon guarding its blood relative and she would not get rid of him. She was almost at peace when she suddenly felt his hand on hers, not leather but skin on skin.

Moving around to yell at him to let her go, her eyes met a white rose and an expression that she didn't try to take over and control. He seemed honest. ,,A spirit of such beauty should be treated with gentleness or the dragon will come closer and closer and devour you, dear,” he replied and placed the rose behind her ear, his fingers running over the strands of her hair and she saw that sapphire flash again as she felt him kiss her.

She was no longer a hostage of the empire she was a hostage of his all this time she was a hostage of his senses…and now the dragon had devoured her the green had wrapped itself around her and never again would she see the black of her family.

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Aegon ii : The crown on his head heavy with burden, war and worry. A war was at the gates of his now owned city and he was the king proclaimed by his mother dowager queen and grandfather…for his father had not wanted him to inherit all he was a dream long extinguished.

He knew that, the queen knew that, his brother knew that, his sister's wife knew that…everyone in his family seemed to know it, she knew it too. Every time he ran away a few months ago, every time he drank since forever and every time he hurried around since he was a boy, he wanted to get away from this throne and the inheritance he knew was forced upon him at best, but now that he realized how quickly sides could tilt at his coronation, he knew it was time to take a sword, saddle Sunfyre and give orders.

,,A playing card we have the sister of the rough prince, mother figure of my half-sister and my aunt” he had heard his words as he sat in the small council with his family and they discussed the plan.

His aunt was the only one who had ever shown him kindness, who didn't see him as a nobody…who held on to him and never gave up on him until now.

The look of her fascination at his actions made him want to say, This is my family, this green blood, it's not me but he had only given her a quick glance before leaving her room. ,,She hardly knows anything about the strategies like my insects say…but other methods might help,” he heard Lary's voice and saw his hand tighten around the walking stick.

Aegon had such thoughts, knew what could be done, knew that feelings could be used. That he had once used her, that he should have always seen her kisses as an encouragement after a night of tears and pain…but he had always felt more and now…no, he would not let her go-not when he now had something worth protecting besides his family and his children.

,,I'll personally take care of our dear hostage, she knows how to answer to a king and I know how to deal with maidens,” he murmured and rose from the table, ending the meeting for himself and yet knowing that his family was still talking…especially ignoring the punishing look of Aemond who had known for a long time and unlike their common mother did not ignore it.

But Aegon didn't care what his brother thought, he was the king and for the first time he would use this power given to him to do something, something he himself decided to do and he would not be taken advantage of. ,,Seeing you so quiet without a kind smile makes me sad aunt,” he greeted her, came into her chambers and found her sitting by the fire.

He saw that she was still wearing her clothes, the dark black, the red or gold a distant memory of her brother, her niece and her former king. A fact that Aegon disliked, he was king now, she should wear his clothes not those of his no good vile father.

He came closer to her and sat down by the fireplace looking at her face the same light hair as his a touch more silver and the violet looking grayish in the light and yet she was still beautiful. ,,Sad? Aegon I am a hostage the kingdom broken and my brother dead…for you I have no mercy” she replied and avoided his gaze looking instead into the flames that seemed her only warmth in these cold lonely times.

But Aegon saw it differently, ,,I am the king and if I don't want you to behave like this?” he replied with a question, coming closer to her but it was an empty threat an empty threat that surprised him when she suddenly turned to him.

The crackle of burning wood could be heard as their eyes met and he felt her cool hand on his cheek. It was her sad smile as she held him close at night, trying to help him through the withdrawal.

He wanted to escape her and at the same time wanted more, ,,Behave Aegon, you have always behaved as you please, I have no kindness but neither do I hate,” she murmured the calm words and even though he saw her resentment, pain and hatred for his family, it did not affect him.

A fact that disturbed him and made him vulnerable Keep your enemies and especially your friends away from you he faintly remembered the words of his torturer Larys who had told him this one day. Words that had no meaning until now…until now.

But now, as his hand lay on hers, he kissed it, allowing her closeness just for one last time, one last time, like the last few times they both knew. ,,You should hate me, though, because as your enemy you would do well to…it would do us both good,” he whispered before pulling her into a reluctant kiss one last time, even though she knew the door to her home would never open again, that he was watching over her, that the crown would protect her even beyond her brother's death.

Aegon would not leave her, he would stay with her, take her in, kiss her, possess her again to draw her into the green memories of the past when she had lulled him with good…but now it was the fiery green fabric of the green that slowly wrapped itself around her and held her to him forever until the end of this dragon dance.

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Helaena : The new Queen of the Kingdoms, Helaena Targaryen the dreamer second daughter of Viserys the Peaceful and his second wife Alicent the now dowager Queen. A princess of the realm the wife of Aegon her husband her brother, her brother and the father of her three sweet children.

A queen who cared for her children, who occupied herself with her dreams and the crawling sounds of her insects only she seemed to understand. Detached from the small council she never attended, trying to find an answer in the words and signs seemed impossible, however, nothing since she felt the gaze of those eyes on her.

,,Seeing eyes envelop colors, one man's quiet is another man's joy too late when the wind catches us,” she said, seemingly suddenly in her room, looking from her embroidery to an unfinished flower before she felt the light touch of her mother still looking beside her. Unwanted and cold unknown and yet normal because she knew it. She didn't have to see her mother's dark eyes to recognize the worry and helplessness.

But above all, the new queen still felt something elriehcteurng. Relief after Rhaenys had fled, they had been able to take a ghost. The first and true princess of the kingdom, her own aunt, who had been imprisoned in King's Landing for weeks, probably knew that she would not be governed in the coming months.

,,Do you know what it means?” her mother dared to ask, but her daughters only shook their heads before silence fell between them again and Helaena still saw the only image in her mind - the image of the hostage. ,,Please take care of the three of them for a moment, mother,” she asked Alicent didn't wait for an answer in the end it was an order from the queen and they both knew it but Helaena wouldn't take advantage of her power just yet.

The queen's footsteps echoed through the corridors her cone did not grace her head the metal was too unfamiliar, too uncomfortable and too horrible.

But that didn't matter because she had something else she wanted to get to now, something she had to get to in order to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. ,,Come in,” she heard the muffled voice and stepped into the princess's large bedchamber, where she sat in her armchair with a book in her hand.

Helaena knew that others reproached the princess, her family the green ones ridiculed her for being so quiet, but the queen knew better. ,,My dear Helaena… you have seen it again” she hit the nail on the head, knowing why she had not come to her as she did almost every day, seeking her contact and closeness, her comfort, her voice and her answers.

The younger girl nodded, she still wasn't sure if her aunt had these dreams too or if she just felt it…but maybe that was why they were looking for each other. ,,It hasn't left me since Aemond did it, it's like a wind that will come over us,” she confessed and slowly sat down next to her on the wide armchair, paying attention to the books of kings and queens only for a moment before she looked into her aunt's violet eyes.

Helaena put her hand on her aunt's and saw that something was going on inside her, ,,This wind began to blow when the blood of your brother's husband touched your mother's hands,” she replied and Helaena felt a clarity as words slowly became something in the mist. It was a clarity her father had once told her about many years ago when he had once again taken an interest in her dreams, but that had passed.

The queen knew that she now had someone to help her who did not see her as something strange, ,,One lucidity from you my thanks is not enough for you in such a situation” she tried to make it easier for him knowing what it was like to be trapped, unheard and not taken seriously.

But in the end she knew that there was at least the two of them, that when Helaena needed her, her beloved aunt was always there for her, whether day or night.

She allowed her cheek to be touched and felt the older woman run her fingers over her now barely visible freckles again, the same loving laugh and warm gaze meeting Helaena's eyes. ,,I'm sorry,” slipped softly from the queen's lips as she pulled the older woman into a momentary embrace that wasn't cold and stiff, it was warmly welcoming and understanding.

,,I know Helaena…I will be too” the princess replied knowing in her own dreams that from now on the wind would not only take hold of her own body the power of the sword and dragon's deeds will drive Helaena to her death hand in hand with herself…but until then, whether as a ghost or still a proud princess, she would not accept her beloved and help her, for the thread of the green had long, long since been bored into her heart and would not let her go…she was bound to her queen by dreams and life.

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Alicent : Once she was queen, once she was queen over the royal land and had power. Had power that she had never used, however, and if only in an area that was more harmful than anything in the shadows.

Alicent Hightower, not even half her age, had given up her crown again to her young daughter, hardly a young woman and with such a responsibility.

A thought the brown-haired woman disliked but that was the way it had to be…that was the way it had to be if she wanted to protect her family from Rhaenyra from her from the self-proclaimed Queen of Dragonstone and Westeros But Alicent herself she now seemed like a ghost of the past only for a moment she had been the most powerful woman of the lands with the death of Visery she had the full decision and what had she used it for?

She knew the answer, she had interpreted it with tears over a past pleasure that she would not get back and now knew that when she looked at her children, her Aegon, that he now had to protect his family and also her, that Helaena now brought children into the world and Aemond protected his siblings with his sword…but she had only protected and defended her children for the last two decades at what cost?

The price was those violet eyes full of understanding and no aversion, despite the fact that the eldest princess of the kingdom was in her power, she still looked at Alicent with understanding. How can she do it? the dowager queen asked herself the hours over and over again when she looked at the green fabric of the dress the question green her color the color of her house and yet she felt this aversion again.

Dislike in her family because this dislike resulted from her fear of not being able to protect the last thing she had left of herself. To lose herself, to lose her children….to lose her family that she had only tried to protect.

But perhaps these violet eyes of understanding were the reason why the former queen went to the princess. Maybe it was something else, or maybe it was just desperation - did that even matter in a kingdom?

Knocking and waiting for a short answer, she stepped inside and saw the woman standing in the ramp, apparently she had just come back in from the balcony of the bedchamber. ,,Do you miss our walks?” Alicnet asked immediately without thinking and immediately offered her something, not wanting her to feel bad, but she only got a slight shake of the head and a gentle smile.

,,No widow queen it's bearable I understand why” she assured the younger girl that everything was in order, even if she had a hostage she was a princess but both had advantages and disadvantages in such a situation. But this calmness seemed to drive Alicent crazy. why was she so in control, but not herself?

A question to which she had no answer, a question that caused the former queen to reach for the elder's hand and hold it, her dark eyes meeting the violet ones. ,,How? How can you take it all after everything?” the question came again faster than she thought, but the princess continued to hold Alicent's hand and slowly pulled her into a hug.

A hug like they hadn't hugged for years, loving, understandable when they were younger and the world was still in order. And then Alicent heard a sniffle and a shaky exhale, ,,I can't, not when I look into those brown, deeply hurt eyes Alicent my dear I just have to…for my family…and for you,” the princess finally confessed after what seemed like an eternity between them but she said it.

The truth was that they were both suffering from this war, unable to support their family and their loved ones who stood on the other side. Alcient put her hand on the cheek of the older one, their eyes looking at each other before she put her forehead against the other's, they held each other for a moment.

The scent of the candles and the smell of the bushes from the sacred places of the seven surrounded them, the scent that had always clung to alicnet and the light smoke and the scent of the princess's roses, the scent of the dragon that did not pursue the rose petals as a chosen symbol as the first princess of the realm.

Before the princess gave the widow queen a chaste kiss, a clear sign that it was all right for her to forgive her. A kiss that they had only exchanged a few times, a short chaste kiss of uncertain feelings and yet affection.

A sign that the black and green around them were tightening as the different colors on the dragon came closer and closer, killing each other one by one until there was nothing left of the one-time love they had ever shared.

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Criston : The sword of the white queen for years, the teacher of metal for the king and his brother and the protector of the three royal children who never really had a father.

He was the leader of the bodyguard of the new green royal family, a sword that came into action when he was called, when he was ordered to do something and when he had to protect.

But a few months ago he had acted of his own free will, a fact that still leaves him with questions to this day. He had acted on his own initiative, having been ordered by the royal family to watch over them while he ran through the castle, sword in hand and a hunch that Rhaenys would have more on his mind than just escape and warning.

He couldn't get that look of pain, of betrayal out of her dark eyes, a look that pained him as his hand wrapped around her body and pulled her away from the balcony she was about to plunge down to land on the red dragon.

,,She belongs to me and she is my hostage, Princess Rhaenys disappears…I don't belong to any crown!” he had shouted at her and pulled her cousin back into the room, not wanting to grab her so roughly, but it was his own fear of losing her.

The first woman after Rhaenyra who had not taken advantage of him, who had not turned her own power and position against him…it was even stronger than his feelings for the dowager queen.

But it had worked, it had worked with the words of her cousin that the princesses withdrew, Meyleys relaxed and the princesses of the blacks disappeared.

But today, when his rounds took him back to her, the doubts came back to him: she was his hostage, the hostage of the green, and yet, apart from the pain, he saw no hatred, a fact that worried him.

,,Have you no other way to know Sir Criston?” her voice rang out and she peeked slightly out of her room or even her cell which was unlocked but escape was futile without a weapon or her dragon she would not get far. She was that smart but Criston knew she was smarter, she always had been.

The knight came to a stop in front of her door, the clatter of his armor breaking through the style, ,,Of course, but it's my duty to look after you princess,” he replied calmly, a look of peace hitting her he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

Not after he had treated her so roughly. But a sad smile crept onto her lips and she glanced at his sword for a moment, ,,You look out for me yes-yes you do by making me your hostage,” she spoke out what had apparently destroyed the friendship, the feelings and the affection between them.

It was his fear of losing her to that stuck-up twat that he had hurt her. But just because his princess in the flesh was his hostage didn't mean it had to ruin everything, did it? Couldn't there be some kind of court, because he was a knight, a protector, she just had to understand that he had always protected her.

He saw her about to close the door again, but this time it was he who stood there again, not wanting to let her go, and put his foot between the door and the rattling of the armor could be heard again. ,,You know why I did it,” the knight defended himself with a shield of words knowing their feelings could cut deeper than any sword.

They both knew why he had done it which is why he stood here enruet his gaze fixed on her form his hands not on his sword, on his armor but on her waist holding her tight not wanting to let her go again ,,I know and…and that makes it all the worse to feel something like this in the middle of a war” she admitted admitting it was between them as she didn't back away not pushing him away knowing he wouldn't hurt her and yet it was right.

Was it right that she let him in, that he didn't close the door and that he didn't raise his sword against her when he wasn't even under control.

The kiss that was finally allowed, a kiss that was overdue, a kiss to erase her bitterness, a kiss from the knight who had sworn to protect her and would do so.

Even though his kiss had plunged into her body like a sword, her blood had turned from black to green and they were now more than just hostage and hostage taker.

He was now her own sworn shield, he was her personal protector and the man who would not only be her downfall and death in the end, but also the man who had always loved her.

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