#like he clearly shows when he's hesitant or even frightened

[h0ped3lusion]

I just found out that not only does Drifter refuses to pull out his sword in the Central, he also refuses to throw out explosives but would throws out little flowers instead,,,

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Unbidden

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader x Aemond Targaryen Warnings: Cuckolding, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3k

Summary: Noticing his nephew's wife appears dissatisfied in her marriage, Daemon sets out to show them both that there is pleasure to be found within the marital bed...

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She has scarcely been able to take her eyes off of Daemon since he first arrived at the Red Keep. He possesses the classically handsome features bestowed upon those of Valyrian blood, carries himself with self assured confidence, and embodies an air of dangerous unpredictability which both frightens and excites her in equal measure. Though it is none of these qualities that keep her gaze fixated upon him.

Her interest is piqued by how utterly devoted he is to his wife. When she stood beside her husband, Aemond, in the Great Hall, as Vaemond Velaryon challenged the succession of Driftmark, her attention was focused solely on Daemon and Rhaenyra. He had been glued to her side, his gaze always seeking hers, and when Vaemond had dared to call her a whore and her children “bastards”, he had not hesitated in unsheathing his sword and slicing the man’s head in half. She wonders if her own husband would defend her so staunchly.

She is not blind to their starkly different situations; Daemon and Rhaenyra’s union is one of love, it is plain for all to see. Her and Aemond’s is one of political necessity. Although they have grown fond of each other over the last six months of their marriage, and he has never been unkind to her, she cannot help the jealousy that swirls, ugly and acrid, within her chest at the ease of which her husband’s half sister and his uncle interact with one another.

The two children they have together already, and the one that currently grows within the swell of Rhaenyra’s belly are proof enough of their passion for one another. However, the looks they exchange at the dinner table this evening are smoldering and filled with intent. Their fingers brush against each other as they pass dishes of food between them, and Daemon’s hand seems to find its way to her stomach, caressing her lovingly, unaware he is even doing it.

Her and Aemond’s intimacy is not so effortless, though it is not from a lack of trying on her part. He beds her frequently, and she greets his advances with enthusiasm, yet his stoicism renders him incapable of ever fully losing control. He is receptive to her pleas of “harder”, “faster”, but she is always left with the dissatisfaction of feeling he is holding something back, and outside of their shared bedchamber it is rare that he ever touches her. She has attempted to broach the subject with him before, framing it as a means for them to find greater satisfaction within their marital bed, but he always waves her away dismissively, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

She can sense something dark and urgent bubbling beneath the surface of him, and longs to draw it out, to experience the full force of the fire of the dragon that runs through his veins, but she does not know how to entice it. 

It had appeared prominent in his seeing eye as Dark Sister had cleaved the Velaryon man’s skull in twain, a potent mixture of bloodlust and desire, as his pupil had dilated ever so slightly. It had sent a shiver up her spine, heat pooling between her thighs, causing her to squeeze them together to fend off the dull, throbbing ache.

She longs for that look to be cast upon her, for her to be the recipient of whatever wrath that follows, and now she is sure that it is Daemon that holds the key to coaxing the darker side of her husband out to play.

The dinner is a tense affair. Aemond sits beside her, so tightly wound she is sure the lightest of touches would cause him to shatter like glass. When he finally loses his cool, throwing barbed words towards his nephews, resulting in an exchange of blows, the evening draws to an abrupt close, with each of them being dismissed to their respective quarters. As they depart the dining hall, her husband and his uncle lock eyes, a smirk of amusement flashing briefly across Daemon’s features as Aemond’s nostrils flare in irritation.

She can feel the heat of his anger radiating from him as he strides through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast, scurrying alongside him in an attempt to match his pace. That look has returned and with it her desperate feeling of lust. If she doesn’t seize the opportunity now, then she is unsure of when it will present itself again.

Reaching out for her husband, she grasps his elbow, her fingers taut against the leather sleeve of his tunic. His steps falter and he turns to look at her quizzically, chest heaving with the laboured breaths of his barely concealed rage.

“What is it?” He snaps.

Instinctively, she shrinks back, second guessing her decision as she sees the way he glares down at her, lip curled into a snarl. Despite her fear, she reminds herself that this is the side of Aemond she had been seeking, and leans into him, placing her hands upon his chest.

“I want you,” she whispers, gazing up at him pleadingly.

“Not here,” he sighs, his expression softening, as he gently grasps her hands in his, moving them back to her sides.

Though she remains outwardly calm, in spite of her disappointment, internally she feels so frustrated she could scream. The look she craves is gone, he has rebuffed her advances and she knows that once more she is destined to an evening where he will treat her as though she is made of bone china.

“I believe you were told to return to your quarters.”

The intrusion of Daemon’s voice causes Aemond to take a quick step backwards, away from her, as she turns to look. He stands before them in the corridor, posture rigid and chin raised up ever so slightly, giving the impression that he is looking down his nose at them both.

“We are on our way,” Aemond responds icily, drawing himself to his full height and staring down his uncle.

The smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of Daemon’s mouth, clearly unphased by his nephew’s hostile demeanour. “I shall escort you both, to ensure there is no further delay.”

Before either one of them has the opportunity to protest, he steps forward, one hand reaching for Aemond’s shoulder, while he places the other at the small of her back. Aemond wrenches away, huffing irritably as he continues walking. She makes no such effort to struggle away from Daemon’s touch, his fingers feeling like a brand against her flesh through the fabric of her dress. 

The three of them walk in uncomfortable silence, the only sound is the echo of their footsteps against the flagstone floor. Her eyes widen in surprise when they reach her and Aemond’s shared chambers and, instead of bidding them goodnight, Daemon follows them inside, closing the doors behind them.

Aemond stares at him quizzically, eye narrowed. “What are you doing, Uncle? If you are here to reprimand me for what was said at dinner then–”

“I am here for your wife, actually,” he interrupts, turning his head towards her as his eyes move from her head to her feet and back up again.

She feels her skin grow hot under the intensity of his gaze, swallowing thickly as he regards her as a cat would a mouse.

“What do you want with my wife?” Aemond asks, his voice lowering in quiet threat.

It is the first time she has ever heard her husband speak of her so possessively and it makes her pulse race. She wants more of this, there is an intense thrill to having the attention of two Targaryen men placed solely upon her.

“Do not think I have not noticed,” Daemon says to her, ignoring Aemond as he continues to stare at her. “You have been ogling me all day. Why?”

Embarrassment prickles at her, and she lowers her gaze. Her voice is small and pitiful sounding to her ears as she answers. “Forgive me, My Prince. I did not mean to stare.”

“Look at me when you speak to me,” he commands, “and answer the question.”

She exhales shakily, lifting her eyes to meet his. His stare is piercing, his eyes darkened and predatory in the low lighting of her and Aemond’s apartments.

“I found myself…rather taken by how you engage with Princess Rhaenyra. You are quite affectionate with one another.”

Daemon’s brow furrows slightly as he cocks his head in curiosity. “Does your own husband not show you affection?”

A wave of sadness washes over her, causing her shoulders to sag at the reminder of the lack of intimacy between her and Aemond. She spares him a glance, noticing he has not moved from where he stands. His expression could be mistaken for neutral were it not for the fury that rages tempestuously within his seeing eye as he glares at his uncle.

Drawing in a deep breath, she looks back to Daemon, answering simply, honestly: “no.” Shame shrouds her, suffocating and dense, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry, her head dipping as she focuses on the spot where the hem of her skirts meets the stone floor. She cannot bear to look at either man, knowing she has spoken out of turn about her husband, not just in front of him, but to his uncle as well.

She gasps as Daemon steps forward, crowding her space, his finger crooking beneath her chin to lift her face up towards his. The touch of him makes her knees buckle slightly and she leans back against the table behind her for support, no longer trusting her legs to keep her upright. “What a brave little thing you are,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that twists her stomach into knots.

“I–I am sorry,” she stammers, eyes flitting nervously between her husband and his uncle. “I should not have–”

“There is nothing wrong with expressing your wants, your desires,” Daemon reassures her. “Perhaps my nephew just needs a little help in learning how best to please his wife?”

She squeals in surprise as he grasps the backs of her thighs, lifting her until she is seated upon the edge of the table she had been leaning against. Lips parted and eyes wide, she turns her head towards Aemond, and though his fists are clenched at his sides, his breathing accelerated in silent fury, he makes no move to stop what is happening. That look from earlier has returned, ravenous and half crazed, she interprets it as silent consent, wanting to do all she can to keep it fixed upon her.

“What of your wife? Will she not mind you…helping us?” She asks timidly, as Daemon’s hands make quick work of rucking her skirts up around her hips.

He chuckles drily in response, dragging her smallclothes down her legs, allowing them to dangle from a single ankle. “You and Aemond have much to learn, sweet girl. Fucking is a pleasure, and Rhaenyra does not mind how or with whom we seek it, as long as our loyalties do not falter.”

The very idea seems scandalous to her, yet wetness gathers between her legs all the same. Aemond has now taken up the seat beside the fireplace, watching them both intently, his stare unblinking and fiery. 

Daemon’s fingers travel up her legs, until they reach the insides of her thighs. His fingers are thicker than Aemond’s, his touch is calloused and rough, where Aemond’s is deft, yet hesitant. His fingertips dig into her soft flesh, hard enough to bruise as he pries her legs apart, a hum of approval rumbling in his throat at the arousal he finds glistening there.

“Does your husband make you this wet?” He asks with gentle curiosity.

She nods enthusiastically, looking over at Aemond and seeing a small, prideful smile ghost quickly across his lips before disappearing.

“Good,” Daemon tells her. “No problems there then.”

His fingertips swipe through her sodden folds, his middle finger quick to locate her pearl and circle it with precision. The movement makes her tense, a jolt of pleasure causing her hips to buck as she mewls helplessly.

“Does he touch you like this?”

“N–no…” she whimpers in response.

“Hmm,” Daemon glances over his shoulder, before looking back at her. “Well, ensure he does in future. I am sure he will; he is paying close attention.”

Looking back over at Aemond, she feels herself clench around nothing, her desire building with a steady, rhythmic ache as she sees the lacings of his trousers strain against his hardness. He is enjoying watching this, lips slightly parted and eye hooded. The sight of it rids her of the last of her inhibitions as Daemon moves his focus away from her bud and dares to push his two forefingers inside of her. She tilts her head back, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she feels her muscles stretch to accommodate him.

“You must be prepared, thoroughly, before you are fucked,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear.

Her mind is foggy, struggling to comprehend Daemon’s words as he presses the pads of his fingers upwards, dragging them against a spot inside of her that causes her toes to curl and moisture to trickle down onto the tabletop. Does he really mean to fuck her? Surely that would be a step too far? Yet she finds it difficult to care when he is pushing her towards the precipice of pleasure itself with simply his fingers. Her mind reels with the possibility of what it would feel like to be stretched out around his cock.

As his fingers pump faster, she moves her hips in tandem, chasing the urgently building pressure that is growing inside of her. He pulls them from her suddenly, causing her to whine in frustration at being robbed of her peak.

Daemon grins wolfishly as his hands move to unfasten his breeches. “I think we have learned enough in that regard, and are ready to move on.”

She averts her gaze as he frees himself, her eyes finding Aemond’s, another silent check in for consent. His throat bobs as he swallows, his knuckles almost white with the force of the grip he has on the armrests of where he sits, but he makes no move to stop what is happening.

Her hands grasp at Daemon’s shoulders as he sheathes himself inside of her, knocking the air from her lungs. Aemond and his uncle are similar in many respects, but this is a matter in which the pair of them could not be more different.

It is odd to her that, despite being between her thighs, he has not tried to kiss her. Whether it is a mark of respect for hers and Aemond’s marriage, or simply because he does not want to, she is unsure, but she is grateful for his abstinence. A kiss seems too intimate a gesture, there is nothing sweet about this.

Daemon sets a brutal pace, once she has had a moment to adjust, rocking into her with a force that causes the table legs to scrape loudly against the hard floor. He is so much more self assured than her husband, utterly unafraid to violate her, and it is freeing to be handled so roughly.

She moans wantonly as he moves a hand to wrap around her throat, applying gentle pressure at the sides. “Do not be afraid to be a little unrestrained,” Daemon grits out, a statement clearly not meant for her, even though his eyes bore into hers. “I have yet to bed a woman who does not enjoy it.”

He has the right of it. The hand around her throat, coupled with the almost violent manner in which he thrusts inside of her is dizzying and, as he slips a hand between them to stroke at her pearl once more, she knows she will not last long. It has never been this intense with Aemond before; a lack of experience, coupled with a fear of hurting her means he is always gentle, hesitant where he need not be. 

The grip on her throat tightens, the ministrations against her bud grow more insistent as she feels Daemon pulsate inside of her, his jaw clenching at the telltale sign that he is close. With a final, harsh thrust of his hips, she cries out in ecstasy as the warmth of his seed spills inside of her, triggering her own release as she tightens around him in rapid, successive pulses.

“Good girl,” he mutters quietly.

He is quick to pull out of her, as she leans back against her palms, pliant and breathless from the experience. She barely registers Daemon tucking himself away and slipping out of the chamber doors, as Aemond moves into view, standing before her.

Under ordinary circumstances, the wrathful insanity she sees reflected in his blue eye would frighten her, but tonight it has butterflies fluttering ceaselessly in her lower belly. His hand moves to the back of her head, gripping her hair tightly by the roots, tugging her head forcefully backwards. Her yelp of pain is stifled by him pressing his lips firmly against hers, his tongue licking against her own in a kiss that is more a desperate display of possession than a loving embrace.

“You are mine,” he breathes, letting go of her momentarily to tug at the lacings of his trousers.

“Yours,” she whispers back, satisfied excitement causing her pulse to thrum at the knowledge she has unleashed the side of Aemond she has always longed for.

Daemon’s spend has begun to dribble out of her, and as she watches the head of her husband’s cock push it forcefully back inside of her, she knows he will remind her every night from now on exactly which Targaryen Prince it is that she belongs to.

[thebadboyfanclub]

The Man You Deserve (Aegon x Reader)

This was requested by @ksuumin : Okay, I have one!! Aegon is heavily drinking and is found by his betrothed, she takes him back to the red Keep and gives him a bath, during the bath he has a slight mental breakdown and she comforts him and is all fluffy. Enjoy, this was so fun to write btw

I would suggest listening to “everything I wanted” by billie relish or “line without a hook”

When (y/n) Hightower was informed that she would be wed to prince Aegon she almost passed out, she was set to travel to kings landing and meet with her cousin Queen Alicent, she hadn’t seen her cousin since princess Rhaenyras wedding.

When she arrived at the Keep she was greeted by a warm hug from the Queen and cousin Alicent who kept apologising for her son Aegon not being here to welcome her. (Y/n) smiled politely and nodded even though she was close to crying, her instinct kept warning her about her future marriage.

She had heard stories about her betroth, how prince Aegon spend most of his time at the Silk Road and hydrated with wine instead of water, a future with a lord husband that had those kind of habits was unstable and frightening to her, yet she put on a brave face and appeared unfazed but at night she would kneel in front of the candles and pray to mother for a happy marriage.

“What seems to be the problem?”

She questioned the young lady that stood in front of her. The girl did not meet (y/n)s gaze, she instead chose to look at her feet while her hands were clasped behind her back.

“Prince Aegon seems to be missing, he hasn’t been seen since he broke his fast on the morrow”

“Does the queen know about this?”

“Not yet my lady, Ser Criston has yet to decide if they should send guards to search for him”

“Very well, thank you for your information elina”

Before she could let her thoughts eat her alive, she ran outside her room to meet her sworn guard

“Ser Helias, show me the way to kings landing”

“My lady, you are not allowed to leave the keep at such late hour”

“You are sworn to me are you not? We must find my betroth before Ser Criston gets a hold of him”

The long legged man hesitated before he scoffed and nodded. (Y/n) smiled even if the guard did not whole heartedly agreed to this. As they got past the main gate it didn’t take long to find prince Aegon passed out just few meters away from the Red keep.

“Is he alive?”

(Y/n) asked the guard. As the man leaned into the passed out Aegon he placed his hand underneath the Princes nose for a minute.

“He is breathing”

“Very well, give me a hand”

As she grabbed Aegon by his one arm her guard grabbed the other and lifted him up in unison, their pull resulted in earning a grunt from the clearly intoxicated and rather smelly prince.

“Am I dead?”

“Unfortunately not my prince”

She couldn’t hold the sour comment any longer, she had grown tired of his antics on the other hand the situation of having to search for him brought her a new wave of anxiety for his safety.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing?”

“Carrying you”

She responded shortly. Aegon tried to open his eyes and look in her direction, seeing her lips pursed and her eyebrows scrunched together as she held on to him and mildly grunt under his weight made the feeling of embarrassment grow as it slowly took over his entire body.

He had attempted to remain sober in her presence, firstly to avoid the scoldings of his mother, second was that he did not wish for her to see him like this, drunk and dirty. She was his betroth, the woman that would eventually carry his children, the lady that would accompany him until the end of their days, that new sense of responsibility was foreign to him, how could he grow up to step up as a good husband and father when he didn’t have a good example of it?He had already failed before they even got to the wedding ceremony.

The walk back to the keep was not long still it was far enough for (y/n) to start huffing and puffing, she wasn’t a woman of petite frame moreover carrying a man up countless of stairs was an activity she was not prepared for. As they approached her chamber of Aegon (y/n) instructed her guard to stay outside, fortunately she was still capable to prepare a bath for the prince and with hesitation she stripped him off his clothes.

“I never thought this would be the way you would see me naked sweet (y/n)”

“Hush now, don’t make this worst than it already is”

She shot him down, her irritation clear as day in her tone, he could almost see the anger radiating off of her though oddly enough her touch was careful and gentle. She made sure to carefully assist him to step in the tub and even ask him if the water is warm enough for his liking.

Aegon observed her as she picked up a sponge and kneeled next to the tub in order to clean him properly all while the silence between them was comforting, this was the most genuine affection Aegon got in years, as the sponge glided on his body he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch as much as he could.

“Do you hate me?”

He spontaneously inquired before he gulped, anticipating a positive answer like he always got. (Y/n)s movement came to a halt as she was caught off guard by the topic of his question. She let out a deep breath before (y/n) regained her composure and kept on with her task.

“I do not loathe you my prince, I’m afraid my feelings for you are more complexed than that”

She explained with a voice so sweet he wished he could put it in a bottle and drink it. He turned to look at her, making a slight motion at the water as some escaped and fell on the ground, he gripped on the white tub like a small kid and eyeballed her like a small child. She smiled at the sight of him, (y/n) had never seen him so vulnerable, so true.

“Explain then”

“How could I explain… I believe you choose to self soothe and numb yourself with alcohol in order to avoid your emotions, from what I have observed you had to grow up in an environment where others expected you to be as wise, poised and skilled as an old maester, warrior and king before you even made your first step”

(Y/n) expressed her opinion and as they beheld one another (y/n) started to notice Aegons eyes fill with tears. She was shocked for a moment before she reached for his cheek, a touch that Aegon accepted and didn’t know he needed until he felt the warmth of her flesh on his.

“It’s alright Aegon, you can confide in me”

With that Aegon bursted into a full crying fest, as his entire body shook from the sobs and tears washed over his face, he was crying loudly and the emotion was so raw that anyone with a heartbeat would crumble at the scene that was painted.

(y/n) could not sit still, it was like watching a wounded animal mourn, yet there was no bleeding on the outside even though (y/n) was sure his souls was scattered in pieces, making him bleed internally for all these years.

(Y/n) got on her feet and placed her hands on his arms so she can pull him up, wrapping his lower body with a white towel before guiding him to his bed. Aegon kept crying even when his body hit the soft mattress, his hands covering his face to prevent her from seeing him like this, her words had such impact on him that he could not control himself, he just cried and cried to the point that even breathing was hard.

(Y/n) did not pressure him to put on any clothing on him, she let him keep the towel as she simply lifted the sheets and covered him, making sure his head laid comfortably on the pillows as he cried. She had observed him for days, she could always detect the sadness and pain he felt almost every day, such tragedy that (y/n) wanted to steal away from him, eat the darkness so he can finally breathe freely.

As Aegon let his emotions show he felt a pair of arms wrap around him and get close, he was being embraced, her hug was like a breath after staying underwater for so long, her presence was better than milk of the poppy, her scent was more pleasant than any flower, (y/n) was his fate, his sanctuary.

Immediately Aegon brought her as close as humanly possible, (y/n) remained silent and stoic as she felt every hiccup, every sob, she imagined this what it would feel if she was a rock while the waves of the ocean smacked it, a violent act that was not intended to harm her yet it cut deep. She wanted to do more even though this was for the best, he needed to let his sadness flow, like a cathartic ritual a cleanse of every emotional burden he was holding.

“Do you feel better Aegon?”

He gradually calmed down while (y/n) patiently waited for him to settle down, she brushed his blonde hair in a way to help him come down of his breakdown. He clung onto her with all the strength he could gather until he stopped sobbing all together, he looked up at her with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face, (y/n)s heart clenched at the sight of him, the damaged prince that was just a big child whom yearned for affection, for love.

“I’m sorry”

“Do not apologise, we are to be wed, what kind of lady wife would I be if I left you at such a vulnerable moment?”

Her kind smile brought him such comfort, he finally understood what it meant to have a partner…. A home even.

“I want us to be happy my love”

“Then you must try, do you promise to try for me? For us?”

It almost sounded like (y/n) begged, if you asked her she would say that she was. This was a small ray of sunshine for a bright future, she must grab the new opportunity and hold on to it with all her might. Aegon raised up a little to be at the same eye level as her, his fingers gracing her cheek in such tenderness, it was like he was afraid that she would float away if he reached for her, like a dream that he would soon be rudely awakened by.

“I swear it on the gods, I will become the man you deserve”

Requests are open!

[imsofuckingdonewiththisgoddamn]

When Our Stars Cross Paths; III Treech x Mentor!Reader

Pairing: Treech x Mentor!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Slapping

Sweet Angels🪻: @nemesii @mrsyixingunicorn10 @chmpgneprblem @thxmiss @storiesofmyhead

🎬Mood boards🎬

You were really starting to regret showing up.

Holding out your hand for the taller boy to shake, you hadn’t expected a warm reception or even a polite acknowledgment. After all, your people were the reason he was in this awful situation to begin with. However, these doubts weren’t going to deter you from making an effort.

So when Treech made no move to shake your hand you tried to not take it personally. A feat that became exceptionally harder as you glanced over towards the District twelve cart where you saw how well Coriolanus and Lucy Gray were getting on.

Your gaze drifted back towards your tribute’s, who had failed to take his eyes off of yours since you had made your presence known. Cold, calculating eyes studying you, as if you were his prey that he was in the middle of stalking. His stare didn’t hold any anger per say, but rather mistrust and suspicion. Something you had seen when first approaching many of the other tributes you had previously offered food to.

Gradually becoming more uncomfortable by the growing tension, you decided to offer the District seven pair food from your canvas bag in an attempt to diminish some of their skepticism—or rather Treech’s skepticism and Lamina’s outright terror. Shifting your bag off of your shoulder, you held the tote out towards the two.

“Would either of you like some food or water?”

You gave the pair a soft smile, praying they wouldn’t let their hesitancy prevent them from taking what was most likely their first meal in days. You were overjoyed when Lamina took a step forward out from behind Treech and towards the bag, her vibrant red hair glittering as she entered the sunlight. Yet your hopes were once again squashed as Treech held out his arm to prevent the younger girl from moving closer towards you. His umber brown eyes never once leaving your gaze.

“Don’t.”

His voice broke the ever growing silence, this being the first thing he had said to you throughout your short interaction. You weren’t sure if he was ordering Lamina to not come towards you, or rather demanding of you to step away from them. No matter his intention, Lamina shrunk away from the bag, despite her eyes showing an obvious temptation to go against the older boy and pursue the food she so desperately needed. While you wouldn’t force any of tributes to take anything from you, you wouldn’t deny the frightened girl food even if her district partner didn’t approve. So reaching into the canvas to pull out a water bottle and a persimmon, you held the offerings out towards the girl who’s eyes seemed to widen at the sight of the drink and fruit. However she still appeared to be to scared to take the food from you while the disapproval of Treech loomed over her.

“It’s okay Lamina, these are for you.”

This time Lamina didn’t wait for Treech to stop her and quickly scampered towards your hands to collect her treats, giving a final glance into your eyes as if she was scared you would pull the food away at the last second. However, after you offered a gentle smile and a small nod, the last of her worries were put to rest and she quickly snatched up the fruit and bottle. You involuntarily shivered as her cold hands brushed against your own, not failing to notice the dirt that caked the inside of her nails from long days of working in the forests back home. You suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for the girl and a desperation to help her stay alive, when you were reminded of the tribute you could in fact save-who also happened to be standing right in front of you. Taking your eyes off Lamina, who was currently peeling her persimmon, you brought your gaze back up towards the taller boy.

And oh fuck was he pissed.

“Just who the hell do you think you are?”

Treech was clearly infuriated by your persistence in talking to the two of them—which was largely due to your inherent stubbornness, as well as Lamina’s approaching of you, even after he deemed you untrustworthy. The stare that once held only skepticism and wariness, now contained a multitude of resentment and irritation. You were just about to start fearing for your safety when a piercing whistle broke through the air.

“All tributes into the van, now!”

Peacekeepers began marching over towards District seven pair, and you saw this as your cue to make your way down to the other districts you hadn’t reached yet to offer them food and drink as well. Remembering the little girls who couldn’t have been older than twelve that you had seen during the Reapings, you felt especially desperate to make sure they were hydrated and well fed. However, as you attempted to move around the pair you had previously been standing with, you felt a strong hand suddenly grab onto your arm, sending you stumbling backwards into a solid chest.

Twisting around to meet your assailant, you sent your hand flying across the face of who you assumed was a peacekeeper. Unfortunately to your horror the groans you heard upon impact did not belong to a grown man, but rather a teenage boy. Now mortified at the knowledge that you had just slapped your tribute-who’s safety you were responsible for, you sheepishly brought your gaze up towards Treech, who was rubbing his own hand against his cheek, clearly more shocked than angered at you hitting him.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You were taken aback by his words. Not only for the fact that his voice had lost the sharp edge it previously held, but also that he cared more about you answering what you had assumed was a rhetorical question, than you striking him across the face. You felt your face heat up as you gazed into his still hard set eyes, unsure of how to answer his question, you had already informed him that you were his mentor.

luckily for you, your embarrassment was cut short by a peacekeeper pulling on Treech’s shoulder and yanking him towards a van that was parked on the opposite side of the train station. The taller boy tried to fight against the armed man, but his attempts were quickly shut down by a gun being nudged into his back. Treech spared one last look towards you as he was marched off towards the van, witnessing a slight scowl on his face as he eventually left your range of sight. Lamina, who you hadn’t noticed had already left, was waiting for him by the doors. Next to her was Lucy Gray and who you assumed was her district partner, Jessup.

You shifted your canvas bag back onto your shoulder, disappointed that you weren’t able to meet the rest of the tributes from the lower districts, who were currently being rounded up. The number of peacekeepers eventually dwindled as the last of the tributes were shoveled into the van, and you were just about to turn around and head for the exit when a flash of vibrant red clothing caught your eye.

Coriolanus was sneaking into the van with the tributes.

You wouldn’t usually think of yourself as an impulsive person, however something in your gut told you to follow your classmate. If not for your own curiosity than his safety. So watching diligently to ensure the remaining few peacekeepers’ attention was diverted, you swiftly made your way across the train station and hauled yourself into the now cramped vehicle.

You regretted your decision almost immediately.

A/N

So sorry for the short chapter and lack of updates this week as i’ve been sick, however more chapters are definitely on the way and i’m really excited to start building the relationship between Treech and our mc! I promise my posting schedule will start to be more often and consistent, please bare with me and thank you so much for your kind words and comments 😊

[captain-mj]

Arranged Marriage

This is honestly just porn with a ton of plot, hope y'all like it

Ghost was a frightening concept. He knew that well enough. People shied away from him. His presence caused discomfort. 

Maybe it was his status as Prince or that he had become more of an urban legend than a person. Or maybe it’s his appearance. Permanently wearing a facial mask and being so clearly not human at all times will do that. No one particularly wanted to be around him. 

It was probably what made the idea of just… arranging a marriage so… disturbing. Forcing someone to have to hang around him when he unsettled everyone else. What a cruel thing to do to another person. 

So he wasn’t exactly pleased to find out it was arranged already. He wasn’t entirely sure which of his advisors did it. Just that one of them did. And he now had a… fiance. 

Soap. What a name. Apparently he hailed from a place further north that was… brighter. That was the exact term used. How funny. Bringing a bright thing like this… Soap to Ghost’s clutches. 

However, the deal had already been made and he couldn’t exactly… do anything about it. To suddenly back out would show that he was… weak. Either he couldn’t control his people or he was inconsistent. Possible even unstable. His reputation couldn’t exactly take the hit and he needed a partner before he could technically be King and it was… 

Ghost sighed. He supposed it was for the best. With his dad dead… 

Images of his body, frail from disease as Simon watched him, let him wither away. 

Digging his nails deep into his skin, he quickly came back to reality.

Soap. Soap. Soap. 

He repeated the name a couple of dozen times. Trying to make it feel right. 

Soap Riley. 

It was a name. 

If he researched the right culture, he was pretty sure Soap was a nickname. Apparently they did not give out their first name easily. Something to do with superstition. 

A superstitious person was paired with Ghost, a person who was slightly to the left of being human, he hoped his new partner had a good sense of humor. Or at least a sense of irony. 

Preferably a sense of humor. Ghost liked making jokes and it would be rather lame if they didn’t even laugh. 

He didn’t expect love in any way. Not at all. At best, he was hoping for cordial. Maybe friendly. Realistically, he expected them to hate him. 

Two nights. All they had to do was pretend for two nights. The day before the wedding and then the day of the wedding. 

Would they have to… consummate? 

Even when he was completely human, he never really slept around. Besides a short few times, he wasn’t the most experienced. He really hoped he didn’t disappoint. But as soon as it was over, they could just go about their lives. He’d give Soap his own room without hesitation. 

Ghost looked at his hands. Dark nails. Sharp and pointed. Smoke drifted from them. Ancient magic. He wasn’t blind. His people assumed deals with demons. Something dark. 

They weren’t completely wrong. They just assumed it was he who made the deal. 

All of this… thinking was getting to him. He lit a cigarette and tried to drift off somewhere else. Maybe to sleep. 

Tomorrow, he’d demand a picture of him. Something to put a face to the name. 

-

Ghost didn’t have to demand it. They had a portrait of him readily available. And fucking hell was he gorgeous. 

Soap had modeled himself for this. Clearly wrapped the robe around his body in a way that was supposed to both show that he was innocent but that exposed him just enough to be seductive. An angel in some ways. Flowers bloomed around him and Ghost wondered if it was a gift he had or an artful interpretation. 

It made his mouth go dry for some reason. Judging by the look on some of the people in the room, he was also blushing. 

His hair was cut oddly. Shaved on the sides. 

The hairstyle was… attractive. Of course, even if his hair was horrid, his body and face more than made up for it. Soft tan skin and thick thighs. So gorgeous. Fucking hell. 

One of his advisors said he might want to send a portrait back which he agreed with but then they pointed out that he should do something similar. Expose himself. 

Ghost snarled and put his foot down about it. He absolutely would not do that. The idea of being stripped down was… 

Soap could just wait to see him. 

And then the day was there. It was jarring. He had some letter correspondence with Soap’s family, but never this mysterious Soap himself. For once, someone knew more about Ghost than he knew about them.

Ghost had the temptation to find something to distract Soap. Refuse to see him or just keep him so busy they had to talk. 

Soap laid eyes on him and Ghost’s breath caught. 

Even prettier in person. 

His ears were slightly more pointed and he could now see the scar on his chin. 

Before he could speak, Soap’s eyes left his, scanning all over his face eagerly. Something shockingly sweet in his expression. 

“Hello.” 

A punch to the gut. His accent, undeniably attractive. 

“Nice to meet you, Soap.” He offered his hand, a bridge between them. His leather gloves kept them from actually touching. 

Soap watched his hand, raising an eyebrow slightly. Little grin splashed across his face. 

“Ghost? That the only name I get?” He tilted his head and leaned in, having to look up at him through his lashes. 

Ghost’s heart started to skip around violently. Trying to escape his chest and the situation. 

“Is Soap the only name I get?”

Soap smiled more. A geniune thing that only aggravated the thing trapped in his ribcage. “Until we’re married, yes, that’s all you get. On our wedding night, will you give me your name?”

Ghost thought about the fae and how you should never give them your name. He got a funny sensation that if he uttered his name to Soap, he’d be trapped in a more permanent way than marriage. 

“No. It’s just Ghost now.”

“And Riley. I’ve heard you want me to take your name. Personally I think Ghost Mactavish has a better ring than Soap Riley.”

Ghost hated that he agreed just a little. “I’m the Prince here.” 

“Yeah, but I still think my name is better.” Soap brushed past him and Ghost followed. 

“Want a… tour?”

“This is going to be my house now. Makes sense for me to know the rooms.” It didn’t feel like he was making fun of him, even though he was clearly teasing. 

Ghost wondered if it was just because he came from somewhere else. If his mannerisms were somehow different enough that it didn’t feel like an offense. 

They were cordial. Just cordial. As expected. Better than expected. 

Soap looked at him as they sat down and tried to ask him questions, but Ghost just deflected. He wasn’t going to answer any questions he could avoid. Soap seemed to realize this eventually and gave up, staring at him with the same intensity that Ghost stared at him. 

“I like your hair.” Soap said eventually, still staring. 

Ghost felt his cheek turn pink. His hair was a soft blond and down to his shoulders, pushed back so it didn’t fall in his face. It curled, especially around his neck. And there was something hungry about the way Soap looked at his throat. Or how he looked at his face. He didn’t quite understand it, but it disappeared every time he started to focus on it. 

Ghost checked to be sure his mask was still covering the bottom of his face.

“Who is going to be the top?” 

Ghost turned red, gripping the table hard. “What?”

“Maybe you guys don’t use those terms. Giver and receiver? I’m trying to use polite terms here.” 

Ghost was shocked by how callously he asked that. “I’d like to be the giver. Or top. Please.”

Why the fuck did he say please?

Soap tilted his head and smiled. “Alright. Want us both to be comfortable on our wedding night.” 

“Yeah.”

“Children.”

“I could see us adopting older kids.” 

Soap brightened. “Perfect. I like that.” 

Ghost stared at him for a moment before sighing. “You don’t have to worry about the future you know.”

Soap paused and a tiny pout appeared on his face. “Why is that?”

“After tomorrow night, you don’t have to worry about appearances. I would never expect anything of you.”

There was a challenge in Soap’s eyes.

The questions became more pointed. Things about the future that Ghost had to answer. How would they make appearances in public, how often, where did Ghost plan to take his kingdom.

Eventually, Soap sat up. “Alright. Where is my room? I know you’re probably eager to get me into your room, but I think it would be more proper for me to be in my own.”

Ghost waved his hand and a maid quickly took Soap to his room as Ghost tried to catch his breath. What the hell? He was… strange. Made his insides twist.

Was this how he made other people feel?

He avoided Soap for the evening. He didn’t want him to throw him off guard like that. Get him all flustered like that. 

Until the wedding of course. He kinda had to do that part. 

So Ghost got dressed in the suit and quietly went to ceremony. Soap looked nice. Also in a suit, though it was a blue to his green. They held hands during one part, but Ghost made sure he wore his gloves. 

He didn’t utter a word so neither did Soap. When asked if they agreed, Ghost rather widely said yes. Big mistake. It felt too intimate just shared between the three of them instead of being transactional.

A cup of wine, supposed to savored. Soap took a sip first, the gloss on his lips smearing on to a part of the cup. 

Ghost pulled his mask down just enough to put his mouth over it, tasting Soap with the wine. 

Rather intoxicating honestly. He had drank this wine before and he knew exactly which notes didn’t belong to it.

The mask went straight back up.

Bright blue eyes didn’t let him escape. Watching him carefully. Cataloging him and his reactions. 

Ghost expected to walk away. Eat cake and dinner before they could leave. He was torn between wanting to leave immediately so he could get away from the people and not wanting to mess up one of his first public appearances in a while. He also wasn’t sure if he was excited to bed with Soap or nervous. Either way it made his insides roll and twist.

Soap said hello to two guests, people Ghost only vaguely registered as his parents when he called them as such. It occurred to him that maybe he should’ve had a conversation with Soap’s family besides just letter correspondence. He went to speak to him and Soap grabbed his belt loops and tugged him along. 

One of his advisors flinched and their hands moved immediately to separate Soap from doing that, but they paused, stuck between trying to warn the newly wed that Ghost was a feral animal not to be led around and touched and the trained thought to not ever touch the royals without asking first. 

Ghost didn’t put a fight so their hands went back down, watching Soap lead him with confidence. Maybe Soap was trying to get this part over with so he could enjoy the party. They could consummate and kiss and… 

Ghost could top him. 

And then they’d come back and act normal. 

Yeah, normal.

Ghost’s hands looked deadly against Soap’s skin. Harsh nail points and dark flesh against Soap’s soft wrists. 

“Probably should be careful with those.”

Soap nodded and grabbed some fabric, tying his hands above his head. “There. Now you don’t need to worry.” He smiled. 

Ghost’s heart fluttered. Yeah, he could easily snap the fabric, but Soap didn’t know that and something about the position was… intoxicating. Especially when Soap shoved him to be laying down.

If Soap did something he didn’t like, he could easily escape. It’s fine.

“Inhuman, right?” Soap undid Ghost’s shirt carefully. He gently ran his nails over his skin before pulling away to watch the lines appear and disappear. The lines felt weirdly good. It had been so long since someone touched his chest.

Ghsot closed his eyes tight. “Yes…” 

Soap kissed his jaw, feeling Ghost flinch away from him. He smiled and slid down Ghost’s clothing. “You’re such a tense King, you know that.” 

Ghost’s heart sped up and he let out an embarrassing noise. A rough sorta whine.

“There you go. Just relax.” He gently trailed his fingers down his body. “You’re so…” Soap sighed. 

Ghost leaned his head back further and let his eyes fall back open. His cock twitched and he wanted to get swallowed by the Earth for enjoying this so much. It was just a simple touch and he felt like Soap was being unbearably teasing. 

Soap ran the tip of his finger up and down his cock and Ghost bit his lip hard. “This looks pretty human. Underneath all of that fear and gruff, you’re just a man aren’t you?” 

Ghost went to argue and Soap grabbed him more firmly, making him whimper. 

The feared Ghost. Known for finishing all the wars started by his father. Killing plenty of people. Cursed by shadow. 

Whimpering because his new husband just touching him. Not even touching him a lot. His sensitivity was sky high. Every brush was enough to send him hurtling towards the oblivion of pleasure. 

“It’s okay. You’ll just be human around me, right?” Soap’s silky voice. Hard in the right places and so very inviting. “Still have all sorts of desires. Especially for this.” He twisted his hand and started to move.

Ghost tightened his hands around the bedframe and his bindings. “Yes.” He wasn’t sure what he agreed to but Soap’s hand started to move and that’s all it took for his thoughts to disappear. His thighs tensed and then he felt a warm tongue run up his cock. Another broken little sound fled his mouth. 

“How long has it been?” Soap asked him seriously, settling on top of him. 

Ghost shuddered as Soap ran his thumb over his head, sparking pleasure up his spine. It was running through his brain, wrecking any thought other than Soap and what he needed to do to have him keep doing this.

“A while. Couple of years.” 

“No wonder you’re so pent up. Just having your hand.” Soap’s hand sped up and he reached over to grab something. He poured the oil over his hands. One of them continued to stroke Ghost as the other started to prep himself. 

Ghost squirmed and his eyes rolled back. It felt so warm and slick. His hips jerking forward of their own accord. 

“Please.” He whined. “Please, please, keep going.” He shuddered and forced his thighs to open a little more. It let Soap grip him better. Soap had bitten into his lip as he watched him. 

“Ghost, you thought we would just do this for one night?” 

Ghost nodded, feeling himself reach his peak. He couldn’t though. Not yet. More animalistic whines and whimpers broke out. He was normally so quiet, not just in bed but everywhere and Soap so easily just ruined that.

“When you sound so pretty?” Soap purred to him. Sinful and sultry and with that fucking accent. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Ghost’s hips shuddered. He kept his eyes closed tight as he came all over Soap’s hands. It smeared between their stomachs and he felt the heat from his blush going all over his skin. 

Soap didn’t stop. His hand kept going and Ghost felt his back arch a little. 

“Stop, stop, stop.” Pleasure and pain started to ricochet through his body but Soap just kept idly going. Ghost shuddered and started to groan. “Please, oh god, please.” The cheap fabric stayed wrapped around his wrists. He didn’t even try to snap.

Soap’s hand just kept going up and down, oil starting to drip from his fingertips. “Only if you tell me your real name.”

Ghost whined and his eyelashes fluttered. “Oh god, fuck. I…” 

Soap’s hand sped up, clearly intent on dragging another orgasm from him. Ghost was pretty sure he didn’t even have time to get soft, still achingly hard despite coming. He started to try biting back the whines this was getting out of him. Pleasure was threatening to drag him down to the fucking abyss. 

“Simon. My name is Simon. You can have it.” Ghost knew the way he phrased it. It was purposeful. 

Soap stopped and smiled at him. Then he straddled him and sank down. 

Ghost felt that tight heat and felt like he was going to break in to pieces. It was so good. Too good. He started panting as Soap slid his hands back up his body up to his masked face. 

Ghost gave him a small nod and Soap took it off, admiring him as he bounced. His eyes never left Ghost’s face and it unsettled him. Those soft hands of Soap’s grabbed his throat lightly and Ghost immediately was back in heaven. As the lack of oxygen made him dizzy and he felt so good, he just melted into what Soap wanted. 

“Keep going.” Ghost begged, tears filling his eyes. “Please.”

Soap kissed his cheek, staying consistent. He was looking affected now. Stupid, pretty face turning red. The man was wrecking Ghost and did it with a smile. 

It wasn’t enough. The realization was getting to Ghost. Soap wasn’t moving quite fast enough. His cock was twitching and so hard, but he couldn’t get there. 

Soap watched him, eyes getting heady, clearly close himself. 

So Ghost snapped the fabric, watching the way Soap’s face lit up with a small bit of fear before he flipped them around. Ghost rutted into him, careful to keep hitting Soap’s prostate but he was lost in pleasure. Needing Soap much more than he needed to breath. Soap’s legs wrapped around him, letting him go even deeper, exactly where he wanted to be. 

Their panting mixed together along with the grunts and soft begging from Soap for him to keep going. 

Ghost was pretty sure his heart would give out if he dared to stop. 

So close. 

So goddamn close. The pleasure was driving him insane as he kept chasing the edge. 

Soap groaned and threw his head back right as Ghost felt warmth between them. He tightened around him as he came, finally drawing Ghost to the end. 

Ghost half sobbed and whimpered, continuing to slowly roll his hips, desperate and trying to drag it out. 

Soap Pet his hair gently. “I got you, Simon.” 

Ghost’s cock twitched inside Soap and he groaned. “Can’t do anymore.” 

“Your body says otherwise, but alright. If you’re done. There’s always tomorrow night.” 

Ghost was never letting this man out of his sight again.

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden pt.4

(Cersei x Fem Reader x Jaime. Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

WARNING: IMPLIED SA and Physical Abuse

The journey from that point was infinitely more pleasant. Not only because of the infinitely improved dynamic between yourself, your mistress, and her brother, but also because you'd finally mastered the basics of riding on your own.

"Ride by me today" Jaime advised you, acutely aware of the mounting tension between yourself and Clegane. "Sometimes it best to just steer clear of men like him"

It was stretching the bounds of protocol, a handmaid riding this close to the leader of the goldcloaks and member of the royal family, but you knew no one would question it if the queen approved.

It had been almost 3 weeks since you departed Kings Landing, and Winterfell was only a few days away by now. The North was beautiful country, much more sparsely populated than The South, and the inns grew farther and fewer between.

Some nights you camped out off the road and some nights you rode straight through without sleep.

By the final inn before reaching Winterfell, you were eager for sleep. You ate with the other servants in the dining hall that had been cleared for the royal party, but keep glancing up at the head table, constantly gauging if you were needed.

The king had been drinking far too much, growing loud and boisterous in a way that clearly embarrassed the queen, who took long drinks from her goblet with a deep frown.

When Cersei left the high table, you rose to follow her quickly.

"Shall l draw a bath, your grace?" You asked, knowing a hot bath was one of the best ways for you mistress to relax.

"No" she said shortly, "Just help me undress, we will be sleeping early tonight."

"Surely, Your Garce" you fumbled with the silken scarves and gown, more catching than undressing as her stripped with haste.

"Lock the door" she snapped. "Firmly"

You obeyed cooly, trying to maintain calm in the face of the Queen's obvious frustration.

You passed the evening in silence, the queen switching between pacing and sitting on the bed until the sun sank and the sky went black.

Before long, there was a heavy shuffling outside the door. It sounded as if someone was pressing their weight against the wall for support as they stumbled down the hall. Cersei stiffened and eyed the door cautiously.

"Your Grace?"

"Be quiet" she snapped in a harsh whisper.

The footsteps stopped outside the door and the door handle tried to turn, stopping firmly against the lock. There was another, harder turn followed by a violent jerking of the door against its hinges.

For a moment there was a heavy, tense silence before the room was full of the sound of cracking wood and squealing metal. You screamed at first, stumbling back in fear as King Robert ruefully examined the damage.

"Is that any kind of welcome for your king?" He rumbled, slurring his words.

"You're drunk" Cersei growled lowly. "Leave my room"

"No" Robert stumbled over to where she sat, leaning against whatever was available to steady himself. "Tonight, I will be with my wife"

You stared with large, frightened eyes at the exchange, but Cersei looked more annoyed than frightened.

"No, You've had too much too drink, there would be no point"

"You!" He wagged a sausage like finger in her direction "are my wife, and you will do a your King commands!"

Cersei looked him up and down a moment with disapproving eyes. "Y/N, leave us"

"But Your Grace!"

Her sharp green eyes flashed at you, "Did I say stand there and talk back? No, I said *Go*"

"Oh, let her stay if she wants" Robert half laughed, "Don't think I don't know you've been showing her your favors already"

Cersei drew in a long breath. "Out. Now"

You hesitated a moment before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind you.

To your surprise, you found Jaime stationed outside the door, face grim as a funeral. You stared at each other a moment before he sighed.

"This doesn't happen very often, not like it used to anyway" he assured you.

You frowned deeply, "It's not right"

"No" Jaime agreed, "it's not."

You waited dutifully beside him, trying to block out the sounds emanating from within the room. It did not last long, maybe 10 minutes.

When it was over, Robert came bumbling out and down the hall, not even noticing you or Jaime watching him go.

"Y/N" the voice that crawled it's way through the door was laced with venom. "Come. Here"

You swallowed hard but peered into the room before entering. Cersei was still clothed but her robe was rumpled, her golden locks a tousled mess in the back. Her face was drawn in tight, angry lines

"Your Grace."

Your head whipped to the side sharply, and then to the other side just as hard. Cercei's ringed fingers left red welts and small cuts across your cheeks as you began to tremble.

"Don't you *ever*, in your pathetic life, question me again." She grabbed a handful of your hair and shook you. The yelp you let out prompted Jaime to enter and blanched at the sight.

"I ought to have you lashed for your insolence, do you hear me?!"

"Yes, your grace." You sobbed, feeling some of the hairs at the back of your head begin to pull out of you scalp. "I'm so sorry, please I beg your forgiveness"

"Beg all you like." Cersei dropped you and watched as you scrambled backwards. "I want you out, I don't want to see your face or hear you voice until we reach Winterfell. Do you hear me?!"

You nodded in silence, fumbling to get to your feet and flee before you could face worse punishment.

Jaime watched you go with a blank expression before turning back to Cersei.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Shut up"

Jaime sighed, "it wasn't her fault, you know. She just didn't want to leave you alone."

"What she wants" Cersei growled. "Is irrelevant. She is here to serve *me* and obey *me*. If she can't do that, what is she good for?"

Jaime pulled an amused face and looked back at the door you fled through "I can think of a few things"

"Fine" Cersei spat at him, "take the little whore into your bed for the night, see if I care."

Meanwhile, in your flight you found yourself by the stables once again. You all but collapsed into an empty stall, trying to catch your breath and slow your racing thoughts.

She didn't mean that

Yes, yes she did. It was clear as the nose on her face.

No

You sobbed into your knees, hoping the hay you sat on would swallow you whole.

Jaime wandered out into the night, knowing better than to call out your name but at a loss wear to look first.

He followed the torch light from the stable and found Sandor Clegane sitting on a bench in front of one of the stall doors, sharpening his sword.

"Clegane" he called, "have you seen-?"

Clegane flashed him a look and raise a finger to his lips, jerking his head at the stall behind him.

Jaime peered over the door as he got closer and saw your curled up tightly in the straw, face still damp with tears.

"Cried herself out." Clegane grumbled. "Stupid girl didn't have the sense not to fall asleep where anyone could find her."

"I'll take her in" Jaime shook his head but Clegane jammed his foot again the stall door as the knight tried to open it.

"Why don't you just leave her be?" The Hound growled. "The both of you."

"What exactly are you implying?" Jaime jutted his jaw in indignation and The Hound stood up, towering over him.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He pushed but didn't elaborate further.

Jaime considered this a moment and smirked coldly. "Fine then. A good night to you both"

Clegane watched him go before sitting back down and returning to his blade, keeping a careful eye on each person who walked past the stable.

At dawn you rose when the sky was still grey and the sun was engulfed in clouds. A few souls stirred in the chilled morning air and you assessed where exactly you were. In a horse stall, thankfully a clean one.

A deep growl of a yawn pulled your attention and you sucked in a breath. Sandor Clegane had fallen asleep with his chin tucked into his chest, hand still wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

He blinked a moment, scanning this ground with his eyes before glancing at you and frowning.

"What kind of stupid girl falls a sleep out in the open like that?" Were the first words out of his mouth.

You flushed with embarrassment, both that he had found you and because he'd say up making sure no one else did.

"Thank you, ser"

"I'm not a ser, don't call me that" he yawned again, "Come here"

You stepped forward and flinched as he grasped your chin, running a thumb over your purplish swollen skin. The cuts had scabbed over but a few looked red and angry.

"I've seen worse" he sniffed "make yourself useful and fetch me some water will you?"

You moved to go but paused, replaying the events of last night in your mind.

"What is it?" Sandor rolled his eyes as you turned back to him.

"I- I think I got sacked last night" you said blankly. "I think the queen might have dismissed me?"

Sandor shrugged. "Good, that means you can help get the horses set."

You gaped at him a moment and he gave an exasperated sigh.

"Come on, if you're going to ride a horse you should know how to saddle one"

[shinjisdone]

Hii! Hope youre having a marvelous day. Is it ok yo request Thorfinn x nun!reader? In a scenario where Askkelad and the others raid a church, and the reader notices Thorfinn is injured so she rushes to help him, showing compassion to the people who are destroying their holy ground,,,, and Thorfinn is like, infatuated with how delicate the reader is with him.... pretty please

S1!Thorfinn with an Nun!Reader

Kinda hesitated and didn't wanna put too many religious things here.

TW: Heavy mentions of religion, killing and raiding, religious objects belittled in the eyes of the vikings, the line 'love your enemy' Is used as a reason to help Thorfinn, mentions of Thorfinn being your savior

This one is really interesting.

Imagine the Danish vikings invading an English coast town and moving their way to the church. They only act as mercineries yet still they chose to be brutal.

Thankfully, all you could do was hide and so far no one seemed to have found you. Staying here was a death wish, for the vikings would take their time to gather anything of value, anything covered in gold. That included your holy intruments.

Sneaking out as best as you could, you quickly found all exits to be crowded by them. They knew survivors were here and knew they'd want to leave.

It seemed pointless. You were destined to die here in the church.

Though maybe fate had a different plan for you.

Stumbling across a young man - leaning against the wall, injured and panting. Something urged you to help, to guide. After all, you were taught to love your enemy.

Quickly you hurried to his side. The blonde startled and a part of you knew you were doing something foolish. The blood, the clothes, the dagger in his hand.

And when you touched him, he spoke unintelligable words to you.

Clearly this man was part of the vikings that are attacking your holy ground.

Still, you choose to love your enemy.

Your touch was gentle even as you hauled him into a safe room. You patched him up using the church's belongings.

The rest of the band is heard screaming on the other side of the door. Yet you chose to stay here, treating him.

Thorfinn cursed at you. Can't you see that it isn't safe here?! Just a second too late and one of the men are going to barge in and kill you!

You aren't safe here! Even you cannot be that foolish to not know!

He belittles you in Nordic. Though you may not understand, you do get that he isn't very pleased. Whether or not he tells you to run or threatens to kill you himself, is something you cannot tell.

Instead you gently responded in English. Thorfinn only knows a few words but not enough to understand what you are saying either.

You are both foreigners to one another. Hunter and prey.

Still even in his injured state and stubborn mind, the man's eyes widened. Your touch was the most gentle he has ever felt as you treated him, took out a needle and sew each cut shut - so softly, akin to a sigh that hit his skin caked with blood. As if you weren't allowed to have him feel any more pain.

His grunts slowly subsided and he simply watched you tend to him. Shouts and screams continued outside, both of you clearly heard metal clanking and furniture tumbling down. You acted as if they didn't exist now.

You acted as if nothing but Thorfinn existed here.

Lips pressed into a nervous line, the pain ceased as he started to feel his heart beat against his chest instead. He shifted in his position and you asked if something was wrong.

His pupils widened as the blonde made a face. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as his breath got caught in his throat again and again.

It frustrated him but he managed out a careful: "...Thank...you..."

His pronounciation was awful but you smiled at him nonetheless. It made his heart beat faster. The warmth in his chest was all he could feel.

Getting up and inspecting the work youve done, Thorfinn grew quiet. Standing still in his spot, he hung his head contemplating.

For a moment you grew frightened as he drew his dagger yet he took your hand with his other. You couldn't understand what he whispered but he was already dragging you behind him, with you having no chance but to follow.

It was as clear as they that this young man was part of the band that is attacking your church - yet as he rushed through the hallways and dragging you with him, contantly on the lookout for his bandmates while keeping you close to him - it felt like he was a hero sent only for you.

Thorfinn made sure to be out of anyones's sight at this point. If one, no matter who, was to spot him, he was ought to kill them and that was something he hesitated to do in your presence. There was no need to upset you, especually when he was trying to find a damn way out of this place.

He took you and ran - ran and ran and ran beyond the church doors and beyond the town up until a place seemed the most safe to him.

The young viking looked at you and spoke, even as you understood nothing. With a few more words he pointed towards north before pushing you to its direction but staying back.

There was a soft gleam in his eyes and you reckoned there was hesitation in his heart as he reluctantly let go of your hand. His fingers slipped off yours as he stared at them as if it hurt to even part from your touch.

Again, he eyed you up and down before pointing forwards. First he ordered in Nordic, then in English.

Thorfinn stood as unshackable as a mountain but his eyes showed longing. Still, he pointed.

"...Run...away."

Your enemy became your savior.

[trigunwritings]

The Masks We Wear

Summary: Vash the Stampede is an an enigma. Human and myth, intelligent but a fool, so easy to befriend and yet so very alone. You decide to peel back the layers—both literal and metaphorical—to see the honest, beautiful man hiding behind the mask.

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Fem!Reader/Vash

To blame what unfolded in the late hours of that evening on having one drink too many would have been easy. Too easy. Each stray bit of clothing lost on the floor, each lingering gaze and gentle whisper to be blamed on the excuse of simple inebriation and a lack of restraint. If there had been an ounce of doubt—so much as a flicker of hesitation—it would have been all to easy to toss your actions aside and pretend that you had misread his own, if only so that he wouldn’t feel embarrassed by it come sunrise.

But it’s just a show. You and Vash know that both of you had sipped at nothing but water since arriving at this quiet little town. But it doesn’t change the fact that you waited, pausing after every forgotten layer, approaching step or touch. Waited to see if he would stop you.

But he never does. Instead he lets you undress him in smooth motions, not in the way that he wants you to do the work, but simply because he doesn’t know what to do himself.

The man looks almost lost, his eyes darting about behind his glasses but never quite meeting your own gaze as hands unzip one thing after another, until he is bare-chested and turning his face away, eyes shut tight.

It’s almost as if he expects something of you. From you.

“Vash?”

After a moment, the man’s eyes open and shift so that you’re more in his peripheral, but still not quite lifting them towards your face. He looks… almost frightened, and it’s only then that your hand passes across his naked chest—covered with scars ranging from thin slices to what seems to have been jagged claws or other machinations—only to feel his heart racing. It pounds so hard against his ribcage that you can’t count the individual beats.

“Vash,” you repeat his name, ducking your head slightly to try and make his eyes catch your own. “Are you okay?”

He is silent for a few moments, but his heart doesn’t slow.

“… I uh… I’ve… never… done this before,” he finally admits with a soft whisper. Vash lifts a hand and gestures, pointing his index finger from himself towards you, then back again.

“Had sex?” you offer, hoping that verbalizing it might help.

Vash turns his eyes forward and says “No,” before quickly smacking his hand to his forehead. “Wait—I mean yes. But also… this.” He gestures again, only this time waving his hand over his upper body. Over dozens of scars that must have years of history behind them all; injuries that didn’t heal correctly, wounds that were too deep.

And that’s when it hits you.

“You’ve never let anyone see you naked before.”

He nods slowly, trying to play it off with a force laugh, “Some people like t’ say that scars are hot, but I think I might have a few too many to qualify. Not uh… much of a looker underneath it all.” The humorous tone sounds so fake that it’s almost unnerving as he adds, “Sorry for disappointing you.”

”Vash,” your tone is perhaps a little too sharp, as the man flinches slightly and quickly ducks his eyes away again. But all it takes is a gentle nudge of your fingertips against his jaw, your other hand reaching up to pluck the glasses from his face so that you can see his sky-blue eyes clearly, bright and wonderful that you could get lost in them.

“You’re beautiful.”

He stares at you. For several long moments it’s as if he had been frozen in time, lips parted just enough so that you can see his tongue behind them trying for form words as his face grows flushed with heat. It isn’t hard to guess that he is seconds away from turning his attention away again, so you hold his chin and force him to hold your gaze.

“Vash, you are so beautiful.”

And that is when, in a gentle but firm motion, you grab Vash’s shoulders and push him onto the squeaky old bed.

What follows is admittedly a bit of a visual blur of clothes falling to the ground alongside the constant creaking of a bed frame so aged and worn that it could collapse beneath your bodies at any moment—considering how much you were focusing on the man atop which you straddled, it easily could have without being at all noticed.

For better or worse, Vash wasn’t very good at masking his thoughts. They were all too plain upon his features as you removed your clothing in turn. Shirt, pants, bra and underwear shamelessly discarded upon the floor all while you did your best to remain astride his lanky hips.

If the crimson hue over his cheeks and ears didn’t give away his interest, then something else certainly did; it wasn’t hard to notice the hard shape pressing in the space between your thighs, separated only by Vash’s pants and whatever he wore beneath them.

“You’re cute when you blush,” you can’t help but tease, hands reaching down to undo his belt as your eyes roamed languidly over his chest and up towards his face. Flushed even more, if that was possible. “Is this the first time you’ve seen a woman naked?”

He glances away, but only for a brief moment as if to fish out the right words from the sea of chaotic thoughts.

“N-No,” he finally whispers, trying to stifle any perceived stammering with an awkward chuckle, “I mean—almost once, b-but I think the lady got my inn room mixed up with someone else’s at the time. Was barely able to explain it before she had her shirt completely off. C-Crazy story huh?”

You lift an inquisitive brow but don’t prod any further, instead deciding to use the moment to pull Vash’s belt free from the loops of his pants, then start tugging them down over his hips and legs.

“Woah woah wait a minute—“ he says, “Do we really uh, need to take those off?”

“You needed to have them off in order to have sex the last I checked,” you say upon tossing them onto the ground. “At least the kind I assumed we were going to have.”

Even in the brief glance allowed from the motion, it’s easy to see that the scars go all the way down the full length of his body; not an inch is without some faded mark, blemish or old wound. Pushing back a sympathetic urge as hands trace up his legs, your fingers curl around the hem of his boxers.

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’re hiding in these, Vash.” Your laughter echoes in the small room, tone and words soft and without an edge, but you’re keenly aware that the line between the man’s consent and non-consent is as thin as as string. When he doesn’t otherwise try to resist or offer other words against the you after several seconds, you move to take off the last layer of clothing on either of your bodies.

If it had been hard to tell that he was aroused by the tone of his voice or the burning of his cheeks, then Vash’s cock would have made it plainly obvious as it bounces aching and flushed from the confines of his boxers.

There isn’t even a spare moment to let him try to make a self-depreciating joke before you’re sitting astride him once more, settled in a way that his arousal presses against the curve of your lower belly.

“… How are you feeling?”

“I… think this mattress could be hiding rocks in it with how hard it is on my back.” Vash offers you the slightest smile, shy but not overly so. “Also, terrible interior design. Zero out of ten.”

“You doofus,” you gently slap a hand down onto the center of his chest and push him down into the bed, “would you like me to stop?”

There is a pause, silence that is filled only by the muted and distant sounds of rowdy bar goers on the floor below.

His heart is still racing.

“… no, this is okay.”

“Good,” you smile, then shift so that both of your hands are pressing palm-down over Vash’s bare chest. You can feel the shape of several scars against one, while the fingers of the other splay over where metal meets with knitted flesh at his left shoulder.

There would be a time to ask and ponder, but this precious moment is not it. Instead of bitterness and the weight of past pains and memories, you want it to be good. You want him to feel good. To feel adored in a way he had never allowed someone else to offer him before.

After the gentle silence of two breaths echoing in tandem, your eyes narrow in mischievous joy.

“I won’t let you out of this bed until you admit that you’re wonderful in every way.”

“I’m not,” Vash says, the rejection sounding stiff and instinctual. Then he tries to shoot you a smile. “You’re the wonderful one.”

“It’s not a competition, Vash.” your hands begin to roam idly across his chest, fingertips tracing idle shapes and along the seams of several old, long scars that looked as if something sharp had torn through the flesh.

His hands lay next to your legs, fingertips just barely brushing against bare skin; if you were to hold your breath, you’d feel them shaking ever so slightly.

Nearly imperceptible, like the mask that Vash wore around other people. But not you.

Not you.

”I see you,” you murmur, leaning down and pressing your lips into the curve of his throat. “All of you. Every inch—and it’s wonderful.” One kiss leads into another, then another, uncountable as each press sweet and purposeful against the myriad of scars across Vash’s upper chest. Even your voice is gentle as it hums against his marred flesh. “You are so wonderful Vash, my Vash…”

A breath catches in his throat every time your lips fall upon his chest. Aching. Wanting. Horny and touch-starved in a way that he never could quite comprehend or realize he so utterly lacked the satisfaction of.

The kissing continues, tracing over his right shoulder until, slowly, your attention moved down his arm and up to his hand that you brought up to your face. As your lips met the inside of his wrist, you murmur, “Do you want me to keep touching you?”

As your eyes flutter open and glance towards his face, you find Vash nodding—silent, but honest. Horribly honest. Terribly, beautifully, wonderfully honest; his flushed face and racing heart could never hide the soft desire he held behind those eyes of his.

Your lips curl into a smile. “Good boy.”

In that moment, there was a shift in Vash’s gaze. Something deep and carnal that blossomed with every syllable of the words that left your mouth.

��Such a good boy, Vash. Let me make you feel good—will you let me help you feel good?”

Another nod, softer than the first but just as sure. Maybe it’s the way you say his name. Most people tended to call him ‘Stampede’ or ‘the human typhoon’ or any number of other titles that often seemed to hang on his shoulders like stones, but you can’t help but love the way his eyes light up whenever you say his name, as if entranced for a single fleeting moment.

It doesn’t take long before your hips shift so that your body is hovering over his cock, seemingly harder than it was before. He isn’t particularly large, but neither is he particularly small either—it helps that you’re just as aroused as he is, but the slow motion down is as much for your own benefit as it is to simply tease Vash in turn.

He whimpers, hands shaking a bit more obviously as his left one comes to gently hang onto your hip. It is cold, but he doesn’t try to force your hips down any faster than you are willing to go.

“That’s a good boy…”

Your voice is breathless and tight. Even when the full length of Vash’s cock fills you, it takes a few moments to collect your thoughts and reign them in properly; every instinct in the back of your mind wants nothing more than to bounce up and down, repeated motions in a carnal need for pleasure, but it doesn’t take more than a moment to stifle them and turn your eyes back towards the man beneath you.

A beautiful, flushed mess.

“It’s okay,” you whisper with a smile. “You don’t need to hold back if you’re about to…”

“IthinkIloveyou.”

A moment passes. Brief. Soft. The words begin to sink in like the precious drops of water from a leaking pipe. Words that had been understood, but not quite spoken so plainly between the two of you—words that you knew Vash had been so afraid of speak.

All you can do is look at him, hoping that the joy and warmth bubbling within is clear across your expression. “I love you too.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re setting a gentle pace, hips bouncing up and down with just enough speed that his cock is barely missed before it is pressing inside of you once more. Languid and loving, careful and continuous. Each blip of pleasure is enough to make your walls constrict around him tighter, which in turn draws out a series of sweet whimpers and moans from Vash’s lips.

“That’s it baby,” you murmur in broken breaths. “You feel so good inside me. So beautiful.”

To emphasize the words, a series of kisses pepper across the man’s chest. Each press of your lips earn a soft gasp of your name mixed with broken pleas for more. You never knew it could sound so arousing to hear him begging.

That alone was its own addiction.

Between soft whispers of encouragement and love, you can hear Vash’s whimpers gain volume and fervency. His own body starts to shift and squirm desperately, hips lifting up to meet the motions of your own to try and bury his cock as deep inside you as possible—and all the while, your name is a prayer upon his lips.

“You can cum.” Your hands finally settle back on Vash’s chest, then move so that your palms are cupping against either side of his face even though his eyes are shut tight. “You don’t need to hold anything back, Vash. Let me help you feel good—cum inside me, baby.”

It doesn’t take any further encouragement for the man to practically sob as he finds a beautiful climax beneath you. His hips move desperately for a few seconds while he spills his seed inside of you and then slow down, all the while his chest is heaving for air. After a thin whimper, Vash’s eyes finally flutter open.

They’re beautiful.

He looks at you for a moment before breaking the gaze to look down towards where his body meets yours in blissful union, and then lifts it back up to your face.

“Are you…?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

The smile that pulls at your lips is filled with warmth and honest pleasure, happy if for nothing else then to see Vash vulnerable and trusting in your intimate embrace. He starts to complain, but you shush the sound with a kiss that lingers long enough for the man to fall into a peaceful afterglow.

“There’s plenty of time for me later,” you whisper upon breaking the kiss. “Right now is for you. Just you.”

He is silent, but it doesn’t last for very long before he asks in a murmur, “Can… we stay like this for a few more minutes?”

A chuckle breaks past your lips before you can stop it, not meaning to make Vash feel bad for asking a simple question.

“Don’t you remember what I said earlier?”

He stares at you, a little dumbfounded, though that might be the orgasm tossing his thoughts around.

With a smile on your lips, you repeat the promise, “I won’t let you out of this bed until you admit that you’re wonderful in every way—even if that means being here kissing you ‘till sunrise.”

[tanmono]

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN MAIN ROUTE....

BOTH ENDINGS BONUS.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

trigger warning: mildly suggestive.

minors and ageless blogs dni.

I decided not to love anyone anymore.

I decided not to trust anyone anymore.

I broke that old vow without hesitation.

It was very frightening.

Emma: How is it, Lord Gilbert?

Emma dances in an empty dance hall wearing a jet-black dress that looks like the night sky.

There is no music, no audience, only a dance hall that has lost its former glory,

Emma’s dance was more alive and brighter than the starry sky that covered the windows.

(I don't know what you enjoy so much….) // (I don't know what's so fun about it.)

The dance partner is a sickly man who has been forced to live on a bed for years.

Unlike most of the world's most skilled dancers, I am by no means a good dancer.

Even so, Emma’s smile was bright with joy.

Gilbert: You're getting better than you were the first time.

(When you danced at Rhodolite, it was like you just learned on the spur of the moment….)

Even if she were to join society today, no one would doubt that she was from a commoner family. // Now, if she were to join in a social gathering, no one would suspect that she was a commoner.

Gilbert: Who did you practice with?

Emma:….No one.

Gilbert: Eh— really?

Emma: You already know that, don't you?

Gilbert: I'm being a skeptic man.

Emma: Please rest assured. Since Lord Gilbert always had his eye on me, no one would go out with me.

Gilbert: Ahaha. That's good to hear.

Emma:…..It's not good.

Gilbert: What, you want to dance with another man?

Emma:…….

The eyes that are looking at her with a steady, questioning gaze are passed off with a smile.

She is the only woman who is so undaunted by the royal family, the symbol of terror.

Gilbert: By the way, I won't allow you to go around the place just to show off. It's a big deal if pests come near you.

Emma: Originally, I had no intention of showing off except to Lord Gilbert. // Originally, I was only going to show it to Lord Gilbert.

Emma: And this is...well, a party…to celebrate your recovery.

Gilbert: To celebrate my recovery. If that's the case——

I tugged Emma’s hand and pressed her lips against mine.

Gilbert: Does that mean I can do this too?

Emma:….Of….course.

Not only her face but also her ears turn red, and she kisses me back.

The fact that it is awkward no matter how many times she has done it is a sign that she’s not used to being with men.

I placed my hand on her cheek to chase her lips, which quickly parted, and takes her breath away again.

(…But to be honest, I didn't expect to be loved by you.)

(I thought I was going to die without ever having been involved in love or anything like this.)

(It's truly amazing how a series of coincidences have led us to where we are now——)

Gilbert: Hello, big brother.

Akatsuki: Ah, you're here again, pipsqueak.

The time I spent in the beautiful country of Rhodolite, full of roses and art, was filled with joy.

Among them, I was especially looking forward to the second-hand book market that is held regularly under the blue sky……

I got along especially well with the merchant from Kougyoku(Ruby), who opened his shop almost every time.

Gilbert: Wow...there are a lot of interesting books again this time.

Only his store had so many rare books that I couldn't understand why people were avoiding it.

Akatsuki:…Every time, you only pick up the most difficult books, don't you?

Gilbert: I like academic books from other countries because they contain a lot of things I don't know.

Gilbert: I've read all the books from my country, so it's boring. Oh this book looks interesting——

When I reached out, I bumped into another hand reaching out from the other direction.

Gilbert: Ah….

Blonde boy:……

He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was clearly an aristocratic boy.

He's a little taller than me, but he's about the same age as me.

Gilbert: Are you interested in this book?

Blonde boy: Yes.

Gilbert: How strange. It's the world's first legal book written in ancient achroite script….

Blonde boy:…I'm surprised anyone else can read this.

He was clearly different. And I instantly knew it.

He, like myself, deserves to be classified as a genius.

Gilbert: Then, shall we read it together?

Gilbert: My name is Gil. And you are?

Blonde boy:……

We went into a nearby back alley and read the book we just bought side by side.

The blonde boy was surprisingly quiet.

Gilbert: I wish you could tell me your name. // You could have at least told me your name.

Blonde boy: We’re not going to get along.

Gilbert: But if we read a book together, that means we're friends.

Blonde boy: What's with that rule?

Gilbert: I just decided. I wanted to be your friend.

Blonde boy: Why?

Gilbert: Because I’m lonely.

Blonde boy:……..

Gilbert: You seem to have no problem making friends like this, so…..I'm never letting you go.

Blonde boy:…..Sighs.

The first friend I made at Rhodolite was a blunt, impertinent boy who honestly didn't seem to be good at socializing.

Still, he is intelligent, and he is willing to engage in discussions that even adults could not come close to.

Every time I met him at a used book market, we would exchange books while reading it together.

Gilbert: I wonder why people with powers are always so corrupted.

At one point, I sat on a barrel in a back alley, closes a thick book on my lap, and uttered a few unrelated words.

This is my impression after reading all the history books of the continent written in ancient languages.

The blonde boy, sitting on the ground with one knee, was listening while reading the book without stopping.

Gilbert: They say continental history is from the nobility, but there are none.

Gilbert: Those who killed their own people to gain the throne, those who cheated other nations to expand their territory, and those who turned a blind eye to the suffering of their people……

Gilbert: Because it has a long history, there should be someone with a benevolent and kind monarch who is equal to everyone.

Gilbert:……No, people like that don't go down in history.

Blonde boy: No wonder.

Blonde boy: In today's society, a monarch who claims to be loving and equal would be the first to be eliminated.

Blonde boy: The one who has seized power will never let go of it again. If there is even a slight disadvantage, they would turn a blind eye.

Blonde boy: I don't know about the pain of others. That is part of human’s nature.

Gilbert: Hmm, I see.

I put my dangling feet on the ground and smiled brightly.

Gilbert: I think human beings are inherently conscientious creatures.

Gilbert: It's the world that makes people greedy, not the people themselves.

At this time, the images of Albert and my mother were in my mind.

The loved ones always lavish their affection on the sickly prince.

If Albert survives the battle, he will take the throne,

I was sure that he would be a king of love and equality.

While knowing that our homeland is a land of deceit and corruption,

I thought people had a conscience and took it for granted.

Blonde boy: According to your theory, there are no real bad people in the world.

Gilbert: Yeah. Because the essence of human beings is love.

Gilbert: The rotten monarchs who spun history could have been kind to others if the world was different.

Blonde boy:...You say very dreamy things, don't you?

Gilbert: It is, but whatever.

Gilbert: I like people.

My friend snickered at me, but at the time I was really thinking about it.

The sickly prince was surrounded by kind people——

Because they didn't know about the real deception and corruption.

Akatsuki: Hey, pipsqueak, what's up? You don't look so happy today.

When I arrived in the land of roses and the four seasons had come and gone, the letters I had received from the home country suddenly stopped.

A sense of foreboding swirls in my heart, and my smile is drawn back into a tight line.

Gilbert:…I think it's time for me to go home. Today is the last time I'll be here.

Akatsuki: I see.

Gilbert: Hey, big brother. Here, I got something for you.

I looked around, made sure no one was near us, and then, I handed him over the pass to Obsidian.

Obsidian, which had strict checkpoints since that time, was a difficult country for outsiders to enter.

An exception to this rule is the passport issued by the royal family, which allows easy entry into the country.

That is how strong the position of the royal family was in the country.

Gilbert: I wonder if you can sneak in and sell some books for me.

Akatsuki:…..All right. I also wanted to visit this country once.

Akatsuki: I promise I'll sell you books.

Gilbert: Thank you. Then, big brother is also my friend.

Akatsuki:….Yeah.

Perhaps the reason I wasn't too surprised when I handed over my Obsidian pass was because I had a vague idea of ​​what was going on.

Akatsuki puts the pass in his pocket and pats my head.

Akatsuki: I know it's a tough country. But....don’t change, pipsqueak.

Akatsuki: If you grow up to be the man you are today, you will become a wise ruler.

Gilbert: I don't know if it’s true....but, thanks. I'll keep that in mind.

Gilbert: ——Today is the last time I'll see you.

Blonde boy:…….

After Akatsuki, I have to bid farewell to the blonde boy.

In the past year, even though we had a fair amount of interaction, nothing had changed, whether it was bluntness or impertinence.

Gilbert: You're so heartless. I can't believe you're not even sad for me.

Blonde boy: You've always been a one-sided talker. // It's probably just that you were always talking one-sidedly.

Gilbert: Well, that's right, but in the end….please tell me at least your name.

Blonde boy: It's a hassle.

Gilbert: Even though we are friends.

Blonde boy: I’m not sure. // I don’t know.

Gilbert: I'm going to cry.

Blonde boy: Then cry.

My first friend sighs in annoyance and hands me an envelope.

Gilbert: What's this?

Blonde boy: You’ve been coughing violently from time to time.

Gilbert:……

Blonde boy: I have a foolish younger brother who gets sick a lot. The doctor has been giving him tea regularly, but he's been sulking.

Gilbert:….I can't believe you’ve been nice to me at the very last minute.

The envelope is even carefully marked with the sender's name.

"Chevalier=Michel"...that seems to be his name.

I knew that, but it's the name of a prince of Rhodolite.

Gilbert: Hehe, thank you.

Gilbert: I'm Gilbert, by the way. Gilbert Kloss.

Chevalier:…."Kloss"….yes…

Gilbert: I hope we can remain friends the next time we meet.

Chevalier: We’ll see about that.

There are no more words for each other——

The exchange with my first friend also ended there.

Gilbert:……Albert…..

Gilbert: Mo….ther….?

The first thing that awaited me upon my return to the land of deceit and corruption was a row of corpses lining the walls.

The two stared into the distance with empty eyes.

The happy and peaceful time in the land of roses crumbled all at once.

Gilbert: Ah——……..

Gilbert:……Aah….AAAAAHH!

━━FLASHBACK━━

Albert: Listen, Gil. I'm on your side no matter what.

Albert: I promise. I won't leave you alone…..okay?

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

Gilbert:…Liar…..

Gilbert:…You Liar….

The sunset stained my eye.

The sunset was like the color of blood.

As I stood frozen like a stone statue in front of this unacceptable reality, a tap on my shoulder came from behind.

He was the patriarchal grandfather of the Kloss family, one of the noblest bloodlines in Obsidian.

Grandfather: Gilbert, I hope you are all right. I'm glad you didn't do anything foolish.

Gilbert: Foolish?

Grandfather: Yes. Of course, those two were against the emperor.

Grandfather: They deserve to die. They’re a disgrace to our family. Gilbert, you're the only one who can't bring any more shame on us.

Gilbert:……

The gentle world shatters into pieces.

And that's how I finally learned about the real world.

Eldest brother: What, you're still alive? You're so stubborn for a sickly man.

Eldest brother: But the brother you loved is dead. There's no one left to protect you now.

Eldest brother: You can't wait to die eventually, but you want to see Albert as soon as possible, don't you?

Eldest brother: He took my idea seriously that if he wanted to stop killing each other, he should give his opinion to the emperor…..

Eldest brother: Ahaha, he’s an idiot. The Kloss family doesn't need weaklings like you guys.

Gilbert:…..Is that all you have to say?

As we passed each other, I stabbed my brother's heart with a knife.

This was the beginning of the trampling beast.

Eldest brother: Y….You…..

Gilbert: What an idiot. We are in the middle of a battle for the throne, aren't we?

Gilbert: The weaklings should disappear quickly from my sight.

Mocking people's deaths and covering up the truth with deception.

There is no one who takes pleasure in oppressing the weak, and there is no one who cares for the weak.

There was a world out there that I could not have known when I was bedridden.

The land of corruption that Albert and my mother hid so well was full of stench and unbearable…..

I killed and killed and killed.

The innocent boy who believed in love found himself killing almost all the members of the royal family,

I have done things that no one with "love" would ever do.

My own heart was false love.

Every time I kill someone, I realize that there is no such thing as love.

Both my mother and Albert betrayed me.

The foolishness of choosing death with the mouth that spun love is truly false love.

Whenever I saw something beautiful, I began to suspect that it was all just a trick of the mind.

The trampling beast has gone as far as it will go.

The emperor: You…..

Gilbert: Ahaha, you fool. I can't believe you fell for such an easy trap.

Then, after 10 years, on the bloodstained rose day.

The Emperor, who had decided to march on Rhodolite, was running across the battlefield,

He used several bribed soldiers to get false information and lure him into a deserted area.

The mad emperor, the root of all evil that caused the brothers to kill each other.

But I kept him alive until this day because I was not strong enough.

The emperor's swordsmanship was so divine that if we tried to interfere, we would be killed.

To kill him, I needed a weapon.

The weapon was finally completed on bloodstained rose day.

Gilbert: If you die, I will be the only member of the Obsidian royal family now, won't I?

I pointed the rifle of my cane at the emperor.

The normally bloodshot eyes of the emperor were somehow calm on this particular day.

Gilbert: I've been working on this weapon without your knowledge.

Gilbert: I am an impotent member of the royal family, so I have to use my cowardice to fight against you, a barbarian…..

Gilbert: Well, no words will ever reach you, so I guess that's enough. Good-bye.

The emperor: ——……As expected, of my red eyed son.

The moment I tried to pull the trigger, my fingers stopped at the words I heard.

Facing his own death, the emperor suddenly clapped his hands in praise.

The emperor: A beast among beasts. Indeed, the future of Obsidian is safe.

The emperor: You are the one who would be the best suited to the bloodstained throne. I have longed for such a successor.

Gilbert:……

The emperor: Come, kill me. And it would be better if the bloodstained country was more blackened by your generation.

The emperor: In the end, you were destined to become a trampling king…..just like me.

The emperor: Haha…..ahahaha!

Gilbert:…….

This time, I pulled the trigger without hesitation.

The emperor's body is thrown back and falls down the cliff.

Deep in the woods, where no one would ever come, became the graveyard of the mad emperor.

Gilbert:…. I see. I was wondering how a crazy emperor like you was born…..

Gilbert: I….guess I went the same way as you. // I….must have followed the same path as you.

I have killed relatives, I have killed nobles, my body has been defiled, my heart has been shattered.

Killing my biological father doesn't make me feel anything, but rather makes me smile.

Anyway, I couldn't stop laughing.

Gilbert: I’ve already….

Gilbert: Gone insane.

━━FLASHBACK━━

Akatsuki: ——There's a girl who recently started coming to my store.

I suddenly remembered a trivial conversation that Akatsuki had with me while he was selling books.

Akatsuki: She's as lovely and adorable as a little rabbit.

Akatsuki: The girl had given candy to a crying boy in front of the store.

Akatsuki: That candy was her reward for helping me.

Akatsuki: She was happy to receive candy, but she gave it to someone else without hesitation.

Akatsuki: Seeing the boy stop crying, she looked even happier than when he received the candy.

Gilbert:….Heeh?

Akatsuki:…I thought she was just like you when you were at Rhodolite.

Akatsuki: She's a beautiful girl with a pure heart, just like you.

Perhaps Akatsuki had noticed.

That the innocent boy's heart has been broken and soiled…..

He may have started talking about her in an attempt to keep me forgetting about my broken heart.

She is a girl from the land of roses, like my former self, who believes in human love and has no doubts.

Every time I hear about her story, I am reminded that there are beautiful people in the world.

Even if I can't believe how beautiful it is….

Even if the child's heart is also false and may change someday anyway….

The "other me"(little rabbit) was my last hope.

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

Gilbert:…Oh well.

I put down the cane and looked up to the sky.

Gilbert: Even if it was an act of madness——

Gilbert: I don’t want her to be trampled by anyone other than me.

Gilbert: ——Now that I think about it, I wonder if it was my first love.

Emma: First love?

After returning to the room from the dance hall, Emma reacts sensitively to the words she accidentally spilled.

Emma: Did you have your first love, Lord Gilbert?

Forgetting that she was completely naked on the bed, she blinked her eyes.

Gilbert: Why are you so surprised?

Emma: Since I came to this castle, I haven’t seen any women hanging around with Lord Gilbert at all, which is surprising…..

Gilbert: Oh, man, I'm a handsome man, too, you know?

Gilbert: I do this kind of thing to you every day.

When I bit into Emma’s soft chest, her delicate body bounced while she was on my lap.

The fingertips that were on my shoulders tightened, and I secretly smiled.

Emma: W—What kind of person were you?

Gilbert: Let’s see….

Gilbert: I won't tell you for free.

Emma:……

(I don't think it's worth asking.)

(….Or maybe I don’t think so myself.)

When I looked into her eyes with a smile, a warm hand was placed on my cheek as she kissed me.

As she repeatedly nibbled over and over again to transfer heat to my cold lips, I felt more frustration than satisfaction.

Gilbert: Hey, are you doing this on purpose?

Emma: What…do you mean?

Gilbert: More like….this?

I put my finger in her mouth and lightly stroked her tongue, and she seemed to understand what I meant.

She nodded with a bright red face and kissed me again, deeper than before.

Her tongue was entwined with mine in a stuttering manner, and I felt the heat circulate not only through my lips but also through my fingertips.

As I teased her heat with my fingertips, and suddenly our kisses turned sloppy.

Emma: Haa…..nn——

Gilbert: That was close.

Emma:….It wasn’t good….?

Gilbert: Yeah, you got comfortable first. // Yeah, you made me feel good first.

I bit down Emma’s neck, which covers her face with both hands, and then leaves bite marks on her shoulder and chest.

Sometimes sucking on the skin and adding long-lasting marks.

The remnants of daily lovemaking pile up, and Emma is full of marks now.

Gilbert: Hehe…how pitiful.

When I kissed her to caress the marks, the hand that was holding my shoulder trembled.

Emma: If that's how you feel, then go easy on me.

Gilbert: I can't go easy on loving you.

Emma:…It's not fair.

Gilbert: I've only ever done this to you, by the way.

Emma:….Really?

Gilbert: Yes. I’m all for you.

Gilbert: I just wondered if this moment was my first love.

When I confess, Emma freezes for a few seconds and then lightly taps me on the shoulder.

Emma: Was it me….?

Gilbert: Yes. My first love is strong, isn’t she?

(Whenever I told Walter about the girl Akatsuki told me about, he would always ask if she was my first love….)

(….Yeah i might have loved her.)

I hate pure things because you never know when they will get dirty.

But at the same time, it reminds me of how I felt when I loved someone.

Akatsuki has told me about the little rabbit over the years…..

She showed no signs of changing, but I somehow developed a liking for her.

(Even if I forced myself, I wanted to see you at the end….)

(Maybe it's because I wanted confirmation that "no matter what happens, it won't get dirty.")

The "Last Judgment" was not intended to see if a compromise could be reached through communication.

If she doesn't change no matter what happens, then I think the essence of human nature is still love…..

I just wanted to do such a final struggle.

(….Actually, I was thinking about just watching over.)

(I had already sowed the seeds of malice in Benitoite and Jade….)

(By watching her face them, I was able to make the final judgment.)

But...in the end, I didn't.

There was no way I could hold back in front of Emma, whom I had admired for so long.

(I ruined her peaceful life for my own personal reasons….)

Gilbert:…Hey, Emma.

I inserted my fingers between her legs and asked her while she’s writhing.

Gilbert: Am I crazy?

Emma:……

(No, I don't even have to ask.)

Gilbert:…..Sorry, just forget about it.

Gilbert: If I’m not crazy, then who——

Emma: I….don’t like crazy people.

(…….)

Emma: You’re troublesome, difficult, jealous, and you do bad things without a care in the world….

Emma:….Never have I ever thought you were crazy.

I was hugged tightly around my head.

(….After I've killed so many people.)

(…….)

(Ah, but...I see. There is only one difference between the mad emperor and me.)

Gilbert: Because you were there for me.

The emperor loved no one as much as he loved himself.

But I decided to love again at the very end of my life. // But I decided to love again in my last moments.

The presence of the little rabbit, brought to me by Akatsuki, has connected our hearts,

Perhaps that’s the way of rebuilding my broken heart now.

Gilbert:….Don't go anywhere.

Our bodies flushed together.

When I hold her slim waist close to me, her sweet breath and voice stir my ears.

Gilbert: And you can't die before I do, okay?

(….I feel hot….)

I took off my shirt and hold Emma again.

At the time, the scars from the treatment were not very good to show, but now it's healed properly.

Emma: Aah…Lord Gilbert…please live…a long life.

Emma: I…would be lonely….without you.

(….I know.)

(Loneliness is a disgusting thing.)

(….It's an emotion she shouldn't have to experience as beautiful as she is.)

Gilbert: How bad has it gotten for the little rabbit to ask such a favor from the evil emperor?

(I thought the blood of the royal family should be eradicated….but like any human being, I got greedy.)

Because it is a wish that is contrary to ambition, I laugh bitterly at what to do.

(But……we'll figure that out later.)

Now I have another desire.

(To be honest, I'm still afraid to trust her…..)

(At the end of my life, I wanted to love her.)

(….That's all.)

[sixx-writes]

                                                                        Desire II

Frieza x Reader

Word Count: 1,934

cw: choking, noncon, pheromones, size difference, second form frieza, rough sex, vaginal fingering, stomach bulge, creampie, pwp, forced orgasm

AO3 Version | Masterlist

Summary: Frieza is in heat and reader ends up being the one to ‘help out’. PWP. Straight into the lewd this time lads hehe.

Part One

18+ ONLY NSFW BELOW

It's thrilling to imagine that you were most likely the first of any species that Frieza had fucked. It certainly seems that way with how he's selfishly taking his own pleasure without a care for your own fragile human needs. He's clearly getting off on how you tighten around his cock each time his tail constricts around your throat, using it to lift you up and down along with the movements of his hips, a lascivious smirk twisting his full black lips.

Still, this was Frieza, the most selfish prick in the universe, and even if he'd fucked a hundred before you the outcome would probably be the same.

You'd lost count of how many times he'd emptied himself inside you in this way. Three? Four? You were out of your mind for the last two times that you were aware of so it could have been more and he showed no signs of tiring. Whether he was bored or had thought of a new way to torture you his tail uncoiled from around your throat and you all but fell off of him to the side with a weak cry into the soiled sheets.

You gasped down lungfuls of air as your oxygen deprived brain righted itself. Through hazy eyes you thought you saw Frieza strolling around the bed before he began powering up until reaching a new transformation right in front of you.

In all your time as a soldier you had never seen Frieza in any of his other forms and now you were rightfully terrified of what he intended to do with you.

He was absolutely demonic with his intimidating height and much larger horns you blanched at the sight of it.

"I've had an epiphany during our time together," he mused, his voice deeper than before, sending chills down your back, "perhaps in my suppressed state I cannot fully experience my release. So, I wondered what would happen if I did this. Since you've so enthusiastically volunteered yourself I'm sure you are as excited as I am to explore this fully."

Frieza wore a wicked smirk and your eyes drifted down to his, Gods above, much larger cock that pulsed angrily with unsated lust. Even as slicked inside and out as you were it was frightening to think of Frieza trying to force himself inside you as much as it excited you.

You were paralyzed when he approached you again and it wasn't until his hand clamped down around your ankle in an inescapable manacle that you snapped out of it and tried to struggle pleading the entire time, "Please, Lord Frieza, it won't fit. Allow me to use my hands or mouth at least."

Nervousness made you act foolishly as it was never the right decision to deny Frieza anything that he desired, but he merely chuckled at your change in attitude, "What's wrong? There's no point in running away now is there? Not when you so obviously want this as well."

You jumped at the sensation of his tail trailing through the fresh slick mingling with his cum between your legs and you had to bite back a whimper. Perhaps he found your hesitance charming because he seemed more relaxed than before, almost playful. In a movement so fast that your head was left spinning you were turned over and your armor was suddenly gone from your lower half making you gasp.

Your cunt was fully on display from behind and Frieza ran his fingers along your folds parting them and learning your flesh for the first time. Humans had never interested the emperor as they reminded him too much of the saiyans that he despised so greatly and until now he had only felt disgust at the mere thought of copulating with them.

You, however, sparked a new interest in Frieza's cold heart that perhaps there was something to your species after all. The way you fluttered around his fingers when he slipped them deeper sparked something primal within him and he would have to take great care not to break you too early.

You bit back a whine as his thick fingers filled you nearly as much as his cock had in his first form, even in the inexperienced way that he probed your insides it still brought pleasure in your over-sensitized state. Frieza seemed to catch on quickly to your reactions, how you liked it when he stroked that uniquely textured spot along the ceiling of your cunt, unable to hold back your mewls.

His thumb accidentally grazed your clit and you moaned loudly trying to seek friction already so close but needing more. Frieza caught onto this immediately as well pinching the engorged nub and smearing it with your fluids. Your orgasm was nearly painful from being touched too roughly and your mouth dropped open in a soundless scream while he continued toying between your legs well past the point of over-stimulation.

"S-Stop," you choked out, feeling your eyes start to burn with unshed tears.

Again, Frieza surprised you by listening, ending the onslaught on your cunt. You turned to see what he had planned next and felt nearly delirious seeing his purple tongue sliding along those same fingers that were just inside you. His eyes were filled with an intensity that made your fear return like a lead weight in your stomach.

Especially with how his behavior was becoming noticeably less controlled with the way he stroked himself shamelessly and buried those fingers in his mouth with a low growl sucking until there was nothing left on them. It was both horrifying and horrifyingly erotic knowing how easily he could hurt you right then without even meaning to but those same feelings of fear only made you more excited. You silently cursed your own weakness.

Frieza noticed you staring and he grinned knowingly, "My turn."

You had believed he intended to take you from behind but his tail wound around your wrists knocking you flat before lifting you into the air with a startled squeak. Your back hit something hard, his chest, leaving you suspended over his cock while his lips ghosted along your throat. This new position was far too intimate and you couldn't help the flush that crept up on your cheeks and across your chest.

Frieza's hands were on your body again, this time removing the rest of your armor without any care for if it survived or not, easily breaking the straps of your chest piece until you were left fully nude. One big hand slid along your ribs until finding a breast and you gasped feeling your nipple harden under his palm. Like everything else about you Frieza focused his attention on this new discovery, squeezing and kneading pliant flesh, while your shoulders burned as if they would be torn from the sockets.

You were conflicted, panting, and could feel pulsating cool flesh brushing against your nether lips so near to having Frieza's cock back inside you that it had you salivating in anticipation. You were grateful when he stopped abusing your breasts and gripped your thighs from beneath, spreading your legs so there was no escape from what came next, the head of his cock starting to breach you.

"You should relax or this will hurt much worse," Frieza purred into your skin making you shudder.

 Easy for you to say..

How you weren't supposed to be tense in this situation was beyond you, although you did try, the first pop of his cock past your entrance made you hiss in pain. The stretch pushed you to the edges of your limits and he wasn't even halfway in yet. Frieza's hands flexed around your thighs while his own limits were being tested as he struggled not to claim your cunt fully in one stroke.

If you were torn you would have to be sent away to the healing tank and that would take time he didn't care to waste. Not when he could savor your velvety walls around him instead. Besides that, Frieza enjoyed the little noises you made when you came, or when he touched you in just the right way. It was more appealing than imagining your screams of pain and was very effective at quelling his urges. Although not nearly as effective as filling you with his seed over and over. The sight of your swollen little cunt dripping with his essence was truly delicious and something he could get used to.

Allowing his thoughts to drift in such a way Frieza couldn't stop his hips from reacting forcing in a few more inches that made you sob and arch your back overwhelmed.

"Gods, fuck, ah-"

Frieza's fingers returned to your clit molding your suffering into something so intense it scared you. It felt like you needed to relieve yourself, the familiar sensation of needing to urinate building, and you couldn't get the words out to warn him. Not with the way his fingers moved relentlessly against you faster and faster - fuck if he wasn't already too good at knowing how to touch you - until you fell apart spraying fluid from between your legs.

He groaned at the irresistible sensation of being milked by the tightly stretched confines of your cunt, finally brought to his own limit, he started to move inside you while you babbled uselessly for him to stop and wait just a few minutes more giving you no time to recover from what had just happened.

Frieza's primal instinct to breed you had finally won the battle and your words fell on deaf ears. Truthfully, it no longer hurt, and the pressure inside you had already shifted into blistering ecstasy leaving you a drooling moaning mess. His massive cock stimulated new places that had never been touched before and you were certain you had lost your mind already.

"Shall I show you something special?" Frieza said trailing his tongue along your pulse to taste your sweat. You were such an intoxicating thing for him with the way your arousal leaked from your very pores turning his claiming of your cunt violent. Wet slaps filled your ears as he took out his frustration on your body and you struggled to find your voice.

"Y..es.." you choked out and felt him grin against your throat.

Inside you, the shape of him changed, punching all the air out of your lungs as Frieza's cock grew even thicker. You screamed trying to twist away absolutely certain you would turn inside out at that point if you didn't. His hands clamped down around your waist halting your movements before he started using you like a literal sex toy, easily manhandling you up and down his length without moving his hips. You were reduced to Frieza's living fleshlight and he reveled in the bulge of his cock beneath your skin where it pressed at his fingers on each downward thrust.

Most of all, Frieza enjoyed your warmth, it brought him to greater heights feeling the heat of your body against his own. Something he could never experience mating with his own kind and the main reason he reached climax so quickly. The coolness of his cum felt blissfully soothing against your abused insides, trapped against your womb unable to leak out, plugged by his sheer girth, you were forced into another orgasm at the same time with a ragged sob pleading with the Gods for mercy.

Frieza's hearty chuckle made you realize you'd spoken out loud.

"I'm not finished with you yet," he promised, starting to move your body up and down his cock again.

[whumpwillow]

Demon's Haven 10

okay woo I've got this and the next three parts after this pretty much all set which is so good of me. how prepared am i ???

anyway here's the penultimate comf chapter before we get into some flashback stuff. platonic bathing trope my beloved <3

—  

masterlist

warnings: blood, past torture, description of wounds, nonsexual nudity, basically just more comf but they are both sad and awkward about it 

—  

Oh, what a fool he was.

He’d been doing everything he could not to anger the witch. He didn’t want to draw her ire just as he had with the angel and now he’d gone and ruined it. He must have, surely, for there was no other way he would think she’d respond to this situation. She was going to leave—had even told him as much—and here he was, asking her not to like he had any right to dictate her decisions at all. He had no will. No choice. No freedom here. She was the one in control and he was at her mercy, and he knew that. He knew how easy it would be for her to call the proper authorities and have him disposed of, or for her to simply do it herself. He was in no condition to fight back against anyone or anything, not in his wretched state, and he was wholly dependent on the kindness she continued to show him for some reason that might forever elude him. And now he demanded more of her? What a fool he was to think he still wielded that kind of power.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Her words came hesitant, more than a little unsure, but they broke the demon out of his spiraling thoughts. His head snapped up at the same time a gasp escaped his lips. He watched her, hands fidgeting with the cloth of her shirt. She gave him a smile and a little nod, as if to reassure him of her decision. She didn’t even look angry.

It was enough to know that she would even agree at all. She didn’t have to do what he said, and he knew that he had no power in this situation, yet she agreed all the same. The demon found himself echoing her same smile without meaning to, though his was a crumpled copy of hers, shaky and uneven. It seemed to have an effect on her, for her eyes softened, and she stopped fidgeting.

The demon realized he’d just been standing there silently like an idiot, and snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in. He blamed the blood loss. Or perhaps that dreadful trek through the city that had him stumbling over every cobblestone until he felt as if his bones had been ground into fine powder. That must have been the reason for the clouded, lightheaded feeling he had filling his mind.

He stepped over to the bath and ran his fingers through the water. He breathed out a sigh, his shoulders drooping. The warmth felt good, especially after having his wounds cleaned out with ice cold water. He’d have preferred it warmer, but just as the witch had gotten up to get it, a pang of fear so strong shot through him that it propelled him into the monumentally stupid decision of grabbing her wrist.

The demon had been shocked to find out even that wasn’t enough to test the witch’s patience and have him sent back to his former torment, or to an even greater one. He’d grabbed her without warning, and she’d clearly been frightened by the encounter. He could see it in her eyes.

And yet.

She didn’t hurt him. She stayed by his side.

The demon looked over his shoulder. The witch sat on the chair by the door, hands folded nicely in her lap. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked around the room like she had the intention of counting every tile and board that had been used to build it.

He didn’t know what had caused him to grab her like that back then. Or, why now, he had a fear so strong of her leaving that it overpowered his logical reasoning. He shouldn’t be asking for more from her on top of what she was already giving him.

He just…didn’t want to be alone.

Which was ridiculous. He’d been left alone in his cell whenever the angel had left. He’d been alone when trapped in the summoning circle after the witch had gone home for the day.

“Do you…need me to turn around, or…?” the witch asked, her words hesitant.

The demon tilted his head to the side. “Huh?”

The witch’s cheeks flushed and she looked to the side, biting her lip. She gestured loosely at him and the bath.

The demon realized at once what she meant. He’d nearly forgotten since it had been so long since he’d had a proper bath, once that wasn’t filled with holy water and meant to make him scream and thrash.

“Um, yeah, uh. Yes, please. If you will,” he stammered.

He grimaced at the delivery, wondering where all his eloquence had gone and if it had been bled out of him along with everything else. The witch said nothing of it. She merely turned around and the demon slipped out of his threadbare clothes and into the bath.

The water was lovely. The witch had managed to heat it to the perfect temperature for it to relax his tense muscles without aggravating his wounds. Nothing stung. Nothing burned. The demon allowed his eyes to close and sunk deeper, letting the steam envelop him.

He relished the feeling of becoming clean again, ridding himself of the grime of his cell and the dried blood he’d thought he’d never be free of. He inhaled the scent of whatever oils the witch had added to the bath—lavender, most likely—and scrubbed his arms and legs with the soap she had on the windowsill next to the bath. He couldn’t think of words to describe how it was to rid himself of the filth of his cell, of his torment, and to come back to himself and his body. He felt more like himself again with each passing moment.

The problem, because something always invariably went wrong when he was involved, presented itself in the form of his back and hair. He’d no way to wash the bloody scars there, even when he knew that was where the worst of it lie. Gods, he knew. And while he tried slipping down into the water to wet his hair, the movement aggravated his broken ribs and had him wincing and clutching the side of the tub.

He opened his eyes to find the witch at his side.

He jolted, sending water splashing over the edge. The witch backed away, though not before it caught her skirts, dotting them with the filthy water.

The demon ducked his head in what he hoped passed for bowing in his current position. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I—I didn’t—I—” he stumbled over his words.

Stupid.

He’d gotten carried away. He’d allowed himself to think he was anything other than a disgrace, a toy, a sinner. Too caught up in the luxury of warm water to clean his skin, he’d forgotten himself and dirtied the very same person who’d showed him nothing but compassion.

The witch held her hands out, palms facing him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

She put her fingertips to his shoulder, the slightest touch, as if he were something fragile and precious and he didn’t understand—

His breath caught in his chest. Hitched. He looked up at her, kneeling beside him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, and the demon couldn’t see it as anything other than a lie.

Of course he had to apologize. He had so many things to apologize for—for being evil, for hurting people, for his past, for his actions, for being what he was, for being a sinner.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” the witch continued. “You just looked like you were in pain.”

The demon swallowed. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

A soft kind of sadness overtook the witch’s expression then, one he had seen many times in the short time they’d known each other. The demon had no idea he could cause that kind of tenderness to appear on anyone, or that they’d ever waste it on the likes of him.

“I can help you, if you like,” the witch said. She paused, bit her lip again. “Or would that be weird?”

“Please.”

The witch nodded and repositioned herself at his back. She took his filthy, disgusting hair in her hands like it didn’t matter at all to her that it was matted with blood and grime. She set one hand on his cheek and told him to tilt his head back if he could and to close his eyes. He obeyed, leaning into her palm. It was like that of the angel’s—causing him pain with just a touch. It didn’t burn his skin though, not like what he’d experienced over and over again, but elicited a deep ache inside him from some unknown place that filled him to the brim with longing. He wanted at once to avoid it and to experience it forever so that this ache would never leave him, no matter how much it hurt.

He felt the witch pour water over his hair once, twice, and again. She didn’t yank on it or use her hold over him to drag him from the bath and across the floor, like he knew the angel would have done. Had done.

She just rinsed his matted locks, taking care to shield his eyes from the warm water by placing her free hand at the peak of his forehead. He even shut his eyes, allowing them to drift closed without as much fear as he thought he would have in the situation. She had complete control over him—but then again, when hadn’t she? And yet the witch had not once intended to use to hurt him.

The protection ward on the door he could understand. He was a sinner—in his past, he—

The demon shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. Yet that was how the witch must have taken it. She leaned over to his side, her face appearing in his field of view from a slant. She once again asked him if it was too cold and if he was comfortable. The demon could only nod, then correct himself when he realized she wouldn’t know which answer he was nodding in response to. He hadn’t been this comfortable in ages. Warm water that wasn’t blessed, didn’t burn. He wasn’t hurting. He was clean.

The witch returned to her work, gently threading her fingers through his hair to try and remove the knots. She could have pulled on them or cut them—a thought that caused the demon to grimace. It seemed he still had the last vestiges of his former vanity clinging to him like wet cloth on skin.

But she didn’t. She worked with more care than the demon knew he warranted and he couldn’t help but sigh. He tilted his head back into her waiting hands, eyes closed, on the verge of drifting off to sleep from the exhaustion that plagued him and the effects of being immersed in warm water.

“Hey, we’re almost done,” the witch told him.

A hand came to his shoulder and gently shook him awake. The demon opened his eyes and looked up at her from where he lay. She peered down at him, her auburn hair falling around her face. The demon held his breath for a reason he could not name.

In the end, the witch never left him. She sat in the chair she had by the door, which was really more a stool and too small for anyone to comfortably sit on for any long stretch of time, her back turned away from the demon as he emerged from the tub. The water sloshed to the floor, pink and grotesque, and the demon scowled at it. He quickly dried himself, which meant scraping fabric over his open wounds way more haphazardly than he would have liked. As soon as the towel touch the raw lashes on his back, he gasped, a sound as quiet as any but not nearly enough. The witch picked up on it, was about to turn, then stopped herself.

“You alright?” she asked.

The demon nodded, stupidly. She couldn’t even see him.

“Quite,” he replied.

In truth, it stung to try and slide the fabric over his body, but he wanted to move quickly so he could dry the water from the floor before the witch turned around. She’d already done so much for him. She’d stayed in the room even when he could see she’d have preferred to be elsewhere, but it was him and his stupid fear of not wanting to be left alone that had him aching for her to remain in his sight so she could remind him that he was out. He wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t trapped in a cell or heading inevitably toward an eternity trapped in a burning lake where the others disposed of their trash. He was here.

Free.

Sort of.

He remembered the soul bond the two of them shared, and figured he’d deal with the consequences of it later.

—  

next

(taglist in reblogs)

[221beloved]

Wake up call

When Sherlock entered the kitchen, John and Rosie were already sitting at the table. John had toast on his plate and Rosie was poking her porridge with an expression of utter concentration. “Morning,” Sherlock greeted and made his way to the counter to make tea. “Morning,” John greeted back and Rosie began to babble cheerfully. Sherlock smiled to himself while he was turned away from John. Little Watson really was a lovely girl. He poured his cup and sat across from John, who was clearly not yet sure what to eat on his toast. After a short frown he lifted his bare bread and asked: “Well Rosie, what do you think?” Rosie dropped her spoon and reached out for the bread, wearing an expression as if she just had a glorious idea. “Ma,” she said in her light voice, “Ma- ma!” She seemed quite determined and a smile was beginning to spread over John's face, but on the other side of the table, Sherlock froze. John looked at him, confused, but the man was like a statue, not moving at all, his entire body tense. He looked utterly shocked and John could see the wheels turning inside his head. “Sherlock?” he asked cautious, but Sherlock didn't seem to notice. “Sherlock?” he asked again, this time more forceful. Sherlock winced a little at that and turned his stare from Rosie to John, his eyes wide, his face pale. But before John could ask if he was alright, Sherlock blurted out: “What are you doing here?!”

John frowned. “I... We... are having breakfast? Sherlock, what is-” But Sherlock was apparently out of his mind. “It's- John, you shouldn't be here, you're wasting your time, you should be out, speaking to women, taking someone out for breakfast-” Carefully John placed his toast back on his plate and slid a hand across the table. “Sherlock, what are you talking about?” Sherlock glared at John's hand suspiciously and then back at him. “It's-” he looked like he would shatter every second. “It's the wake up call, John.” His voice, rather a whisper, was quiet and trembling. “You shouldn't have ignored it that long, but now...” John had no clue what Sherlock was talking about. “Sherlock, what do you mean?” The man across from him looked nearly frightened. “She needs a mother, John,” he said, as if in defeat. “She demands, a mother...” He lowered his gaze to the table, while John's eyes went wide. “What?” he asked in pure astonishment. “Why the hell do you think that?” Sherlock didn't look up. “She just said it herself: Mama, John. She demands a mother.”

John was frowning again, clueless what Sherlock was referring to, then it dawned him. “Oh, you-” he broke off. “Sherlock, look at me.” Sherlock was hesitant to lift his gaze, but finally he did, looking like a hunted deer. “Sherlock, she wasn't trying to say Mother or Mama. For some reason she can't just say jam, she is determined to say marmalade. I can't tell you why, but she is trying for quite some time now. That's what she was trying to say.” Sherlock looked disbelieving. “Sherlock, I think it is just fine the way it is. You know my dating skills, and now with a toddler it would be even more difficult to find someone and to hold that someone. And I think the last thing Rosie needs is a new face every week. Of course, it would be lovely with a mother, the classical family, but it's not necessary.” He hesitated, then John added: “And we have you.” Sherlock still didn't say anything, but he looked as if he would begin to understand. “We can come to you, anytime, you are there for us, there for her. Look, we're having breakfast together now. Wouldn't you say that's something? And there are Greg, Mrs Hudson, Molly, and even Mycroft is trying to show some interest. By the way, did you talk to him about this? I wasn't expecting that...” Sherlock shook his head slowly. “Oh, okay.” John tried imagine Mycroft showing interest by himself, but it didn't really fit and he discarded the thought and continued: “Sherlock, it's fine, it's all fine. I'm exactly were I'm supposed to be, and so is Rosie. She loves you, I- I mean, we-” he paused, frustrated. “As long as you don't want us to leave...” Sherlock shook his head again, with more determination this time. “Good,” John said, and he could watch the tension leaving Sherlock's body. “Good,” he said again. They would have to work on that. He would need to talk with Sherlock... But not now. Not yet. He looked at Sherlock, who was frowning at his tea. No, not yet.

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[eveenstar]

Toby falling in love with his doctor's daughter | Headcanons (part 1?)

This was revealed to me in a dream ✋🏻 yes this is inspired by David Near's The Morgue Files but since I wasn't sure if we could do fanfic about it, I created my own character inspired by it! I'll call this an experiment, so depending on how well it is received by you all I might do a part 2 :)

Doctor Frederick Faulkner, commonly known as Freddie or Fred by his co-workers, was Tobias' doctor. A man of prestige, but underlooked by his bosses. The fact he chose to treat a severe mentally ill murderer made everyone believe the doctor himself was insane.

He wasn't the first one though, his fellow co-worker Doctor Crow had also taken a murderer similar to Toby under his wing. The fact that there was someone else in the building who claimed to have seen the Tall Man frightened Toby at the time, as the boy wasn't quite a proxy yet, but close to being one. Stage 2, perhaps?

Throughout the sessions they had together, Toby found out Doctor Faulkner had a daughter just around his age. A very bright one, but a bit troublesome sometimes, just like any girl in her late teenage years would be like. He didn't know how she looked like, her father was very restrictive to that extent. His friendliness towards Toby didn't change what he was, a man who murdered his parents and set fire to his childhood house with the guests still inside.

However, this changes when you appear at the door unplanned. Just as Toby is being taken to his regular Wednesday's session, he sees you standing in front of the door, hesitant to knock.

At first, he doesn't know who you are. You're not a patient, but you're also not a doctor or nurse. Maybe a former patient visiting? Hell, does anyone actually leave this Institute?

But then the guards escorting him speak up, "Miss Faulkner, what brings you here?"

Oh, well, that's unfortunate. Toby didn't want to meet you either (though the curious part of his mind did) because even if he denies the existence of the Tall Man, he knows you'd be put in danger.

Still, he thinks you're pretty. The way you turned around to greet the guards, but how your eyes landed on him and he saw the oh-so-familiar glimpse of fear behind them. You must be aware of who he is, or maybe the chains around his feet and hands scared you enough.

What Faulkner said was true, you do have the fire of youth in your eyes. The urge to fight, to talk back, to party, to....do everything Toby could not.

The door to the office opens and there stands the doctor, eyes wild open once he notices his daughter standing there. Clearly you didn't announce your visit and you should've. Frederick sighs, before urging you inside and lifting his finger up for "one second".

The last time he saw you before you disappeared off of the radar (at least he didn't see you again so maybe you wouldn't come back) was after you walked off his office saying "You'll regret this!" and leaving a clearly disappointed Fred behind.

Don't fret, nothing serious happened. Apparently Faulkner was so caught up in his work that he missed his marriages birthday and well...his wife wasn't pleased.

In the following days, Toby did some sketches of you. Doodles, even. He's not a great artist but he's had time to practice, and it's better than drawing that creature over and over again, just to repeat the cycle the next day.

He's had crushes before, sure. Hallway crushes. Market crushes. Girls he'll never see again, but for that split moment of time he thought they were pretty. Surely he's not that bad that he became infatuated with someone who didn't even talk to him?

But he wants to know more about you; what do you do, who are your friends, how your pretty little life was like...yet he can't. There is no way your father will open up about you more than he already has; he's already this close to finding out about the drawings he keeps of you.

It's been a while since he sees you again; Toby's lost track of time but he'd say maybe a month or so until you show up, this time it seems you managed to convince your dad to let you stay during a session. Of course, when asked about it Toby didn't care despite the thought of opening up with a strange person present made him uncomfortable.

Even thought you're sitting behind him, he can hear you writing down notes. The doctor assures him it's nothing about him, rather the entire appointment as a whole. You're studying psychology, maybe to follow your father's footsteps?

Only when Doctor Faulkner turns around to grab some papers is when Toby manages to also turn around to take a glance at you; not expecting you to be already staring at him, or rather, your dad, and then looking over to him.

Before, your face was calm, monotonous of any emotion, with lips set on a straight line, but then....then your eyes landed on him and a nervous smile formed on your face.

"Hello," You said.

"Toby!"

Yeah, that was enough to scold him back into track. Your father didn't want you here at all, but now? Now Toby did. In his twisted mind, a dangerous idea pushed by whispers began to form.

"My daughter, would you be so kind to get me a bottle of water from the cafeteria?" Was that his way to send you off? Sure. But you'll be back.

But things don't always work our way, at least not in Toby's life.

The alarms went off a few minutes after you left. Everything is blinking red and it's too, too loud and loud and- screams. There's people screaming.

He knows it's here. This is his work. There's a dark cloud forming in the back of his mind, the same fog from the night he killed his parents and their friends. Faulkner is far too concerned with leaving the office and go get you that he doesn't notice Toby trailing after him.

But it wasn't Toby who did the final blow, thought you might believe otherwise because of the red stains all over his white hospital outfit. He doesn't know who it was, all he knows is that you were standing behind your father as he fell to the ground with a petrified look on your face.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[masterwords]

the eve of destruction

Summary: Hotch is in bad shape after his ordeal with Mr. Scratch, and while coming by his house to help out one day Spencer is faced with temptation. When he gives in, he has to find a way to fix it before it destroys everything he holds dear.

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: drug addiction (see the rest of the tags on AO3)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Notes: This is for my love @domestikhighway58 <3 Be kind, I wrote this is a matter of hours so there are probably horrific errors.

********************************************************************

Spencer hesitated at the door. There was a key in his hand, a key to a door he’d never opened, never been through, never even faced before. Hotch’s apartment lay beyond the threshold, and it was silent. The last time he’d seen Hotch, he was sitting hunched over and bleeding in the back of an ambulance arguing with EMTs and Rossi about whether or not he needed to be taken to the hospital.

Rossi and the EMTs won in the end, when he tried to stand and suddenly couldn’t. It was frightening to watch from afar, from beside the police car that was revving its engine ready to take Peter Lewis to the nearest police station. Watching Hotch’s knees buckle beneath him, watching Rossi reach out to try and catch him before he hit the ground.

“Just go check on him for me please, kid?” Derek had asked, and how could he say no? He desperately wanted to say no, send someone else, send someone more qualified. Someone who has been here, who has been inside Hotch’s home. Someone who belonged, but no. Derek insisted. “I want it to be you, Reid.”

Putting the key in the lock felt wrong, but he had to do it. He couldn’t chicken out now no matter how big it felt. How wrong it felt. The worry he was riddled with over what he would find on the other side – a gun leveled at his face, if Hotch wasn’t prepared for his entry? Hotch passed out or worse on the floor? There were too many scenarios, each one shockingly worse than the last.

What he found was nothing like those quick twitch nightmares, and the sense of relief he felt as he surveyed the apartment was immediate. Hotch was sleeping on the couch, sleeping peacefully from the looks of the gentle rise and fall of the blankets over him.

His instructions were to check the place out, make sure everything was good, and to disturb Hotch as little as possible. “He just needs to rest,” Derek had pointed out. “No tv, no phone, no books. Not a lot of conversation.” They had no idea what had happened to him in the hours that he was alone with Peter Lewis, but his injuries were extensive enough to warrant a few days at home. Spencer suspected that was mostly to do with him wanting to hide them, not to mention what happened in any case files. He could get away with a bump on the head and a few days off, but if he showed up to work clearly out of sorts people would ask questions. This was about the only way to get Hotch to take time off.

Read the rest on AO3!

[mattmurdocksscars]

Amanda, pretty super please with kisses on top can I request: 19. “Don’t talk, just spread your legs” & 3. “Aw, your legs are trembling~ does it feel that good?” With our boy Matt Murdock as a Demon or a Vampire? Idk whatever takes your fancy. Thank you!! 💕

Here you go, love! Its a little longer than I had planned, but I had fun with it!!! Could definitely do stuff with them again!

Warnings: smut, fem!receiving oral, use of girl in reference to reader (good girl, sweet girl)

They called him the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

No one knew who, or what, he was, other than someone who stalked the night and preyed on those who would prey on others. There was talk that he was a demon, with glowing red eyes and horns. Legend had it, that if you were in need and you called for him, he would arrive.

The night you met him, you had called for him for help.

Leaving the bar your friends were at had not been your best idea but it was late, you were tired, and you had your mace and a knife for worst case scenarios.

Too bad worst case scenarios didn't account for multiple men grabbing you.

"Help! Someone, ple- mmph!" A hand clapping over your mouth cut off your screams for help.

"Shut up! Scream like that again and we'll kill you."

Needless to say, the men who had grabbed you had not so innocent intentions. Thankfully, the Devil arrived and saved you. And what a sight he was.

Dark red horn curled up and away from his forehead where they protruded, red eyes moved listlessly, and a dark red tail curled behind him.

It turned out that for once, the legends were true.

But rather than be frightened of him, you were amazed. He had saved you after all. When he'd gone to leave you had called for him to wait. He'd hesitated before turned back to you.

"Who are you?" The fact that you'd asked for who he was not what he was had softened him to you.

"Don't you know, sweetheart? I'm the Devil." He'd said before leaping away.

You'd thought that would be the last you'd ever see of him. Yet seeing him turned into a regular occurrence.

It started as stumbling upon him one night when he was on your roof and you'd gone up for some fresh air.

"Fancy seeing you here, Devil." He'd merely cocked his head and smirked.

"Hello again, sweetheart. Staying out of trouble?"

You fell into an easy friendship after that. Learning that he really was a demon was not nearly as surprising as learning that he was blind.

"How do you move like that then?"

"Like what?"

"Like you can see!"

He hadn't explained it at first but then one night he'd told you about how his other senses were amplified and they allowed for him to 'see' in other ways. You'd accepted it easily enough. After finding out he was an actual demon, amplified senses was nothing.

Months passed and the two of you grew closer and closer. Tension building as both of you grew to realize you wanted the other. You were always surprised at the restraint Devil showed. He was a demon after all. Shouldn’t he want to give in to his desires? Shouldn’t he want you to give in as well? Which lead to an amusing conversation about his religious beliefs when he was a human.

“A catholic? Really?”

“That hard to believe, sweetheart?”

“No, no. It actually explains a lot.”

You had resigned yourself to just pining after the demon of your dreams after that conversation. It was clear Devil was concerned about tainting your soul and you wouldn’t push him into doing something that clearly made him so uncomfortable. 

Which is why it was such a surprise when it finally did happen.

Devil had shown up to your apartment, clearly coming straight from a fight. You’d offered to help patch him up, but he’d ignored you, choosing instead to pace your living room like a caged lion. You watched him for several minutes before finally speaking up.

"What-" Before you could even finish your sentence, Devil had you pinned to the wall. He put one hand on your hip and one on the side of your neck, then buried his head in the other side of your neck and purred.

"Don't talk, just spread your legs." You raised your brows, shocked beyond reason, but did as he said.

"Good girl." He purred. "Do you want this?"

"Yes, Devil. Please-"

"Matt. My name is Matt and it's the only one you're gonna even think for the rest of the night." Devil, no Matt, dropped to his knees then and yanked your leggings and underwear down in one fell swoop. Pressing in close, Matt took one of your legs and edged it over his shoulder to give him better access. He buried his face in your heat and purred again at the smell of you.

"You're going to taste so sweet, kitten. Can't wait to ruin you." With those words, he finally swept his tongue up your slit. He made a firm pass and made sure to circle your clit and you couldn't help but to cry out.

"That's it. That's my girl." Matt murmured into you before diving back in. He ate you out like you were the finest meal, his tongue skillful beyond measure. It didn't take long at all for him to have you shaking. Matt picked up on it instantly.

"Aw your legs are shaking~ Does it feel that good?"

"Yes, Matt! Fuck, please I'm so close!"

"The cum for me, sweet girl. Let me have it." Matt sealed his lips around your clit and sucked and your whole world exploded into stars. You came with a scream of his name and Matt continued to eat you out through it, lapping up everything you had to give. He went to the point of overstimulation and you tried pushing on his head to get him to back off but he stubbornly stayed where he was.

"Oh, honey. If you thought I was done with you, you're sorely mistaken. I'm just getting started."

Suddenly, you understood what it truly meant to lie with the devil.

[merv606]

Puritianverse

Daniel stands alone in his private dressing room at the Church on his wedding day, the Beta handmaidens having recently departed so he may have some time to himself, his last moments before he becomes his Alpha’s.

He looks at himself in the mirror, nervously adjusting the crown of flowers on his head, the beautiful silk and lace of the traditional Omega attire on his tiny figure. The lacy garter hitched high on his slim thigh, hidden under the long tunic, catches on his fingernails. He’s not sure why that is a requirement, and innocently asked as such of the handmaidens—but they only giggled and fussed over him, telling him he was the sweetest little thing. 

Daniel bites his lip. He feels like everyone is not telling him something, what with the garter, the “wedding night duties” and being “welcoming” to his Alpha’s “seed”. Whatever that means… 

But all that really matters is what his Alpha thinks of him. He looks in the mirror again, looking at his big brown eyes, and pink cheeks, and soft, shining hair. He hopes he is to his Alpha’s liking…

It’s tradition for Alphas to only see their Omega in their traditional bridal attire at the altar in church. There is no meeting before that—no private moment. It is not considered proper for the still unmarried Omega to be alone with an Alpha, even if their wedding is only moments away. 

So little Daniel is surprised and frightened when his Alpha unlocks the door to his dressing room where he is waiting, to see him. His Alpha stands there for a moment, looking him over and taking his fill of his Omega, his gaze growing more heated with every second. 

I have an idea similar to this but it’s after the wedding - his handmaidens/ladies in waiting getting him ready for his wedding night.

Dressing him in the ceremonial white tunic - so sheer you may as well not be wearing anything at all.

Long, NSFW, and the themes associated with this verse.

Daniel stands, slight shivers going through him despite the warmth of the room, as he stands with just his pants on.

His wedding shirt lies, neatly folded by his maidens, close by.

He raises his hands, allowing his maidens to pull the ceremonial wedding night tunic over him, not unlike an ivory drawing gown.

It hits a few inches above his knees, showing off a sliver of his thighs, and while Daniel would normally be outraged at the shortness of such a frock, it does not compute as it does not compare to the horror he has at the sheerness of the fabric it is made out of. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this, this …. Shocked.

That is, until he’s indicted to step out of the white pants he’s wearing. He does so. Like a good omega, he was instructed to follow what his handmaidens told him to help prepare him for his wedding night.

Hesitation though, when he is instructed to remove his underwear, although he obeys. Hard not to after years of how to be a good omega training.

Although not from a well of family, as soon as he presented, not only did the news of him being a rare omega around the court, but so did the never ending talk of his beauty.

Not even a week after his presentation, his Ma was meeting with Lord Silver, and he was betrothed, his classes starting the next day.

Still.

He’s never been this exposed - he may as well be wearing nothing. From his clearly visible nipples, small and dark, to the now equally visible thatch of dark hair between his legs …. His husband will, no doubt, be able to see everything.

He asks for some underwear at least and they say their instructions were only for the tunic to be worn.

The smile indulgently, trying their level best not to laugh when he says, absolutely scandalized, that he can’t wear that in front of his husband.

“What will he think?” He asks, near tears as they well up in his large, brown eyes.

“Your husband picked this out for you to wear …. for him,” they explain.

“Whatever for?” He asks. These seems like someone a “loose” omega would wear. He’s not quite sure what that means but he knows the hushed way the older omegas of his church talk about them. Maybe Terry doesn’t realize how sheer it would be …..

“Do you know of your marital duties once you enter your wedding chamber?” one of them asks now, gently.

Another handmaidens tries to stifle a giggle and she’s hushed.

“No,” he responds truthfully but he is starting to suspect it must have something to do with his special omega place as they had to check that

to make sure he had keep himself pure for his husband, whatever that meant. They never really explained it, only saying it was for his alpha, and his soon to be alpha had been in the room when it happened and seemed very pleased.

He just knows he and Terry are to consummate their union under god, and he says as much.

“Don’t worry, your alpha will know.”

They lead him out of his dressing chamber into the wedding chamber, where the marital bed waits, adorned with white silk sheets and rose petals.

The handmaidens leave him then, with the parting advice to, “listen to your alpha, do as he pleases, and you’ll be fine.”

“There are no stories about him being cruel in such manners, only generous,” the oldest handmaiden says, the head of his little group.

“There are also stories about how well endowed his …” one of the younger ones starts but before she can finish, she’s quickly ushered out.

Daniel had no idea what they are talking about, and he watches as they depart, leaving him standing in the middle of the chamber, a sort of dread settling upon him.

He thanks god that the lights are at least dim. He tries to stand so his legs are somewhat crossed while trying to cover his upper body with his arms.

Too busy trying to figure out how the hell to make himself somewhat respectable for his husband, he doesn’t even notice said husband stepping into the room.

That is, until he hears the chuckle and stops, looking up.

His husband is in a thick robe, a dark red, with his hair down, dark waves barely touching his shoulders.

He steps forward and Daniel stands still as his husband walks around him, almost like he’s inspecting him.

“Sir, I …” he starts, face burning. Surely his husband didn’t realize how much of him would be on display.

A hand on his chin and he stops.

“You look lovely my darling. Absolutely breathtaking.” His eyes sweep up and down Daniel. “As I knew you would.”

He strokes a hand down Daniel’s upper arm and he shivers.

“Oh, have I been thinking about this.”

Daniel looks at his husband now, he can only describe him as hungry, but for what he’s not sure. There was enough food at the wedding, after all.

“You’re been everyone else’s all day,” he says, and in some respect it is true.

A wedding of someone this powerful and high in society is all ceremonial and he had to be introduced and greet the many guests.

They all fawned over how lovely and how lucky Terry was, although Daniel considers himself the lucky one.

Because his ma and Mr. Miyagi will be taken care of, and that is all that matters.

His husband is also extremely handsome. Daniel had noticed that since their first introduction and during their few chaperoned dates, he had noticed his omega parts felt funny whenever the alpha was near, especially when he touched him (in the socially acceptable way that is).

“You’re all mine now, though.” A hand strokes down his face and Daniel leans into it.

“You are ravishing, and I plan on ruining you.”

His husband bends down now, and although Daniel’s never been truly kissed, this part he recognizes, knowing what his husband is seeking.

Their lips meet - Terry’s soft yet firm; demanding, yet yielding all the same.

Pleasure and arousal go through him as large hands rove over her body, a tongue demanding entry and then slipping mouth when Daniel gasps, his husband squeezing his ass.

If this is what consummating their union means Daniel will be happy to go all night.

A hand now, rubbing a nipple through sheer fabric and Daniel breaks the kiss to whimper.

Terry kissing down his gown now, his hand slipping up to find the little omega wet with excitement already.

Daniel moans now, eyes flying open at the sensation of his husband’s fingers tracing along his slit.

Slowly kissing down, until he has to kneel, eye level with his most special part.

Slowly he guides the gown up revealing his mate to him, in all his glory.

Leaning back now, drinking his fill.

“Beautiful everywhere - such a pretty little pussy ….”

He rubs a warm hand up and down a slender smooth thigh, leaning in, resting his face there, breathing in deeply.

“I just have to taste it. And your cute little clit,” he says, and Daniel’s isn’t sure what he means by that, but then.

Gentle thumbs spread his open now and a tongue flicks out against that swollen nub and Daniel gasps - clutching his gown.

Oh, that’s what he meant.

Then his husband goes back to rubbing him there, and Daniel feels himself throb in response, and he can feel his husband’s fingers dip inside his folds and then a wetness being spread around which helps him increase the speed of his rubbing which increases the throbbing between his legs, which is almost unbearable now.

The pleasure is …. It must be a sin - this must be why they were told never to touch themselves there …. It is … it is …. He hears harass breathing and realizes it’s him and he tries to gulp in air into his starved lungs.

Terry stops, licking his fingers into his mouth, tasting the little omega’s offering, his slick juices.

Then, his husband licks up either side of his throbbing rosebud, before laving his tongue over it.

Daniel shouts now, his legs shaking when his husband’s tongue starts to flick against it, and when his husband sucks the hard nub into his mouth, he cries out, his legs giving out.

Terry catches him easily, sweeping him up into his arms, bridal style.

He doesn’t even register being laid on the bed, but he is and Terry’s face back between his legs, the wet noises that he is horrified to realize are coming from him and his omega parts.

Horrified when he realizes he is pushing up against his husband’s face; his behaviour not only improper but wonton and demanding - something good omegas do not do.

But he can’t stop, his hand going to his alpha’s head between his legs as he licks and licks / Daniel feeling pleasure mounting.

He comes, Terry pulling off to quickly rub his rosebud, prolonging his orgasm, and Daniel thinks he’s peeing himself, as wetness drops down him.

Terry stands now. His face shiny, as he licks his fingers into his mouth obscenely, as he remarks, “you taste good - like I knew you would.”

He blushes trying to cover himself now that his wits have returned.

“None of that.”

His alphas large hands on his inner knees open his legs gently and then his fingers are tracing up his omega place before spreading him there as well.

“If not for my eyes, then for whose?” He asks.

Daniel lies there, legs still twitching.

There is a bulge in his husband’s pants and he unlaces them now, not breaking eye contact with Daniel until his cock spring free.

Daniel mouth drops open. He had heard that alphas were different - that instead of an omegahood they had a manhood.

“Is it always like that?!” Daniel asks.

“When I’m around you,” he remarks. “You do that to me. Make my cock hard,” he explains.

“I’m sorry,” he says, not understanding.

Terry laughs. “You misunderstand little one.”

He cocks his head to the side, regarding his husband and his rather large endowment.

“This is what will allow me to consummate our union,” he explains, “and to bless you, of course.”

Doe eyes practically light up. “How?” he asks excitedly, as he sits up.

He reaches a hand out to touch the alpha’s cock, drawing back when the alpha groans, afraid that …. But Terry grabs his wrist, hiding it back to touch.

“How?” He repeats again, It’s all he wants - a blessing from his alpha - to start their family, telling Terry as much.

“That’s good then,” his alpha smiles. “Lie back and open your legs for me then.”

He does as told, but not before Terry helps him out of his gown so that he’s completely bare before his husband.

How put them on either side / good - although his body seems to instinct Ot know what to do his alpha guiding him along calms him

Terry teases the head of his cock up and down the omega’s omegahood, gathering the copious amounts of wetness there.

For good measure though, he grabs the pot of oil on their bedside table, pouring it over his virgin entrance.

His alpha covers him, holding himself up on one arm as guides his manhood inside his mate.

Daniel’s eyes widen, realization dawning as he feels the blunt pressure against him.

“Alpha .. wait … I …” don’t think it’ll fit is what he wants to say but Terry shushes him.

“Relax,” he hears, his alpha rubbing his spot, still wet with the older man’s spit as the head of his husband’s cock breeches his body for the first time.

He whimpers, grasping the bedsheets as he is slowly opened up for the first time, his husband’s cock large and insistent.

“The more you take me the easier it will become,” he promises. “For now relax - and let me have my husbandly rights.”

Terry leans over, sucking a plump nipple into his mouth and Daniel shifts as the cock opens him up more, his husband claiming him with each inch that slowly but surely fills him.

His husband will not be denied.

It’s pressure, never ending pressure which he cannot alleviate no matter how he squirms or moves his hips, and there is some discomfort, which increases. A feeling of his entrance being stretched beyond what it is capable off, and he thinks he can’t do it but then Terry stops, telling him.

“It’s in all the way now.”

Terry lays a hand on the omegas stomach where he bulges slightly from the massive hard length inside him.

Daniel lets out a shaky breath and Terry laces their fingers together, as he pulls back a little only to push back in, keeping his eyes on Daniel’s face before looking down to watch his cock disappear back inside his mate’s body.

Rocking in and out like that, he hikes Daniel’s leg up around his waist higher and starts to really fuck him proper. The resistance is still there but not as much.

“Let me get you with child,” he reminds Daniel. “That’s it,” he coos. “Relax for me …. let me give you what you want … what you need.”

Terry starts pumping in, smooth strong thrusts watching the little omega jolt from the force of their first coupling. Looking down at the slender form, Terry imagines what his little omega will look like swollen with child - his child - his belly full and round, his pretty little tits to match.

“Touch yourself,” for me he demands. He wants to feel Daniel come on his cock this time.

Not sure what the second part means, but his husband can’t surely mean to ….. that’s a sing

“What,” he whimpers, eyes rolling back as his husband cock fills him, everywhere all at once.

“Touch yourself,” he encourages …. “Rub your clit like I did.”

“But sir, I … tis a sin.” Daniel has already sinned enough tonight - he feels he will be doing penance until he dies.

“Do you dare to disobey your alpha little one?” There is no heat in it, but Terry knows how seriously the boy takes these things.

Sure enough, he watches as Daniel obeys, rubbing at himself harshly, with no finesse or experience for what to do.

Still, his body clenches down nicely as his little mate rubs himself.

Later on, Terry will spread his mate out on their bed and show him how to properly touch himself. Watch as he makes himself come to Terry’s instructions.

There is so much to teach him.

For now, Terry feels his balls draw up ready to empty himself inside his mate and he grabs on, with one impaling him on his cock so his seed shoots inside, as deep as it can.

He buries his face in his omega’s neck, biting down, and Daniel cries out, his fingers not stopping the motion on his rosebud.

Terry’s hips keep moving sure very drop is inside where it belongs, and he takes pity on his boy’s inexperience, quickly bringing him to orgasm with his fingers, the boy squirting a little this time, already tight body closing like a vice around his cock, as more seed is forced out of Terry into the alluring clench of the omega’s body.

“What?” He gasps out, unsure of this feeling, of what just happened.

“My seed is inside you now,” he chuckles, rubbing his stomach.

“Have I pleased you then, my lord?” He asks, wanting to make sure.

“As I knew you would,” Terry affirms and pride flows through him - that he has pleased his alpha.

Slowly pulling out, if only to amplify the wet squelching noises the omega’s cunt makes now that it’s been properly used by the alpha.

He’s sore but can’t wait to do it again which is good because Terry tells him next.

“This is your new duty as a married omega.”

“Will you bless me often?”

Terry chuckles. “As often as I can, darling.”

“Tomorrow your lessons will start on how to run the household,” he explains, although they have staff for all the day to day. His omega won’t have to lift a finger but he will have to know how to direct and manage the staff and any issues that may arise.

“This though,” Terry spreads his now, just to look at the gap his cock left behind. “This

will be taking up most of your time. This is your most important responsibility - seeing to your alpha’s satisfaction. Giving me a child.”

A soft rap on the door.

The priest steps in and Daniel realizes now, what it means when they said he would be checked after, to make sure he did his duty.

Terry puts a hand on the inside of his knee and the priest steps between them, examining him.

“It is clear you have done your duty as an omega and allowed your husband his rights.”

Daniel blushes at the priest words.

Your alpha’s seed clearly fills you but ….”

A white piece of lace fabric is produced which is he runs between his legs.

“Proof that you have joined as one as god intended, honouring the way of the church. You will be blessed shortly, as god intends.”

The priest leaves and Daniel notices his husband’s cock, which was going down, has started to harden again.

“Are you not satisfied?” Daniel asks.

“On the contrary, little one …..” he says, rolling Daniel onto his stomach, pulled back by his hips so his ass is on the air.

The blunt head of his husband’s cock at his entrance.

“I’ve never been more satisfied,” he groans as he presses inside.

Neither have I Daniel thinks. The only thing that would satisfy him more is his husband’s child inside him which, he’s sure won’t take long.