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milktei · 1 year

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Hold me Tight

Kamisato Ayato x fem!wife!Reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage au, idk if it can be called a slow burn but that’s what I’m calling it, fluff, smidge of angst.

Warnings: unconventional relationship, Reader is described to have long hair that is brushed through. not edited

Requests: Open

a/n: another one out! :o Had to indulge myself a little bit before getting back to requests. arranged marriage au’s are my guilty pleasure and i just felt like writing for genshin again. Hair brushing and physical affection is also just such a big thing for me I had to write it. So if it isn’t obvious i wrote this mostly for selfish reasons and that is the reason why it may be sort of all over the place lol. I hope it’s enjoyable either way!

A hug is all you longed for really. For someone to wrap warm arms around you and let you completely melt into them.

Being married it should be an easy ask

How unfortunate it is for you that your husband wants nothing to do with you.

Although the more you thought about it, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. He did agree to the marriage hadn’t he?

He was the head of his clan, the Yashiro commissioner. Throughout the entirety of the process of arranging your marriage, Kamisato Ayato had every right, and more than enough chances to stop it from going through.

He had nothing to lose if he decided he wasn’t ready for marriage, which was an excuse many citizens of Inazuma had heard over the years.

He really had nothing to gain from it either.

It confused you from the day the elders of your clan elatedly told you that by some insane amount of luck, the Kamisato Ayato had accepted “your” marriage proposal that had been sent in as almost an obligation.

There was no harm in trying and you were now living proof of that.

Why you? out of all the suitors he definitely had, he had chosen you. While your clan was one of the head producers of tea leaves in the country, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around his acceptance, it was not like the Kamisato’s needed the tea, they could have afforded it anyways.

There was no political gain for him either as he was already a tri-commissioner, you weren’t even in line to become heir! Your uncle was the head of the clan and your cousins would follow in his footsteps.

The gossip about you flew all over inazuma like a storm cloud, and you heard it all, people weren’t always subtle in their curiosity or distaste in you after all.

Some of the talk was harsh and negative, and yet you couldn’t help but partially agree with what some people were saying about you.

You were a nobody as far as nobility went. The only reason you could think of as to why Ayato chose you, was likely to reduce the amount of mail that he got, as the marriage proposals had virtually stopped after your wedding. Aside from some particularly desperate people.

Perhaps you really were the best candidate for him. You weren’t a prominent figure in the public eye, you weren’t after the Kamisato’s fame and fortune, and you weren’t the type of person to fawn over your husband 24/7 and demand he shower you in riches and attention.

Although you almost wish that you were. Maybe then you wouldn’t be longing for a hug as badly as you currently were.

While it was true that being married to Ayato meant that you had nearly everything you could ask for at your fingertips, and that it was rare for you to be denied anything—not like you asked for much anyways—the one thing you could not ask for, was your husband’s affection. How ironic. the one person you spewed rehearsed vows to about being his rock and what not, was the one person you could not get an ounce of love or affection from.

Of course you had never really had the chance to try at this point, as despite being married for 6 months already, you can count the amount of times you had a full conversation with the man on one hand.

“I hope that you can find it in you to excuse my lord. He is a very busy man.” Thoma had told you the day you had moved in and your husband was no where to be seen. The look he gave you the mixture of empathy and a wince.

That was the day reality set in. He looked at you kindly on the day you got married. Soft smiles graced both of your features during the ceremony, and you two spoke amicably during the extravagant reception. But this was an arranged marriage, a contract more than a relationship, and you both had duties to fulfill.

A smile that had been drilled into you since your etiquette classes from your youth crossed your face “There’s no need to worry about me Thoma, I understand.”

So you had to learn to get used to being alone in an estate bustling with people. You opened your wedding gifts alone, sorted them accordingly and even sent out an astonishing amount of individual thank you cards to all the guests you had at your wedding.

You often ate alone, save for the times Ayaka and Thoma had time to accompany you. Aside from being reached out to for second opinions or approval you weren’t given a formal job on the estate. Instead you were given an allowance, and were free to spend your days doing whatever you wanted, so long as the Kamisato name was protected.

Yes that was another thing you had to get used to, “Kamisato y/n”, “My lady Kamisato.” Hearing the latter was especially hard, that title felt as if it was reserved only for your sister-in-law, she definitely represented it with more grace than you thought you were ever capable of.

The name and all the responsibilities it came with weighed down on your shoulders unlike anything you had every experienced prior, and here you pushed against it alone. Forced to go through the transition into married life without the other half of the partnership to support you.

That led you to your predicament now. You were coming to the realization that you were horribly touch starved.

It was even worse on cold windy days, or when it rained. All it did was remind you about how your late parents would use those days to curl up with you, a warm blanket, and a book to laze the day away and wish for nicer weather the next so that you could go out on a picnic.

you longed for those days of warmth and love again. Your family had been quite affectionate with one another. While Ayaka would come and spend time with you, treating you like an older sibling. Nothing could reach the craving deep within you.

You sighed to yourself as you walked through the streets of Inazuma, ignoring the whispers of people who passed and recognized who you were.

Or rather who you were married to.

“My lady Kamisato!” greeted the Yae publishing house worker. “You’ve come at a great time, the new volume of your favourite series has just released.”

The worker handed you the book in question and you couldn’t help the excitement that rose within you as you quickly flipped through “I was hoping that I’d be able to pick something up today. I’ve been needing more things to do when the weather doesn’t permit me to go outside. Any other recommendations?”

The worker smiled at you sweetly and handed you another book “Surely Lord Ayato, is able to keep you from getting too bored at the estate my lady?”

Your smile faltered ever so slightly, you couldn’t let it drop in front of the worker, the last thing you wanted was for anymore rumours to spread. You pretended to read the synopsis of the book that was handed to you. “Yes of course, but there are still times where he is not available. My husband is a very busy man.”

My husband, you didn’t think you would ever get used to referring to him as that. He felt like nothing more than a stranger who’s house you happened to live in, who you shared a family name with, who would grace you with a soft smile and a nod as you passed each other at the estate each making your ways to your separate rooms.

A gust of wind blew through the streets and both you and the worker shivered. You looked at the sky and frowned at the dark clouds rolling in, you flinched as a singular rain drop landed on your cheek.

The worker also looked up “it really is rainy season isn’t it?” they looked to you “I would recommend you head home soon my lady, looks like it’s gonna come down any minute now and you’ve got a long walk back to the Kamisato estate”

You sighed, “what a shame, I was hoping to run a couple more errands today.” you payed for both books and placed them into your bag with a smile “thank you for the advice I’ll head out now.”

You walked away from the shop in the direction of the estate, waving behind you as the worker told you to stay safe.

———

Perhaps you should have stayed in town.

You come to this realization as you’re halfway to the estate. Komore tea house would have been much nicer than the weather you were experiencing currently.

The singular raindrop you had felt earlier had slowly progressed into a little more than a drizzle and you groaned to yourself as your clothing grew heavier as it absorbed more and more water.

You should have grabbed your umbrella

It was practically pouring by the time you had gotten to the estate, the trees of Chinju forest providing surprisingly little shelter against the rain.

Quickly, you rushed under the cover of the roof of the estate and sighed in relief once you weren’t being pelted by water. You looked down at you clothes and cringed at the water dripping from the fabric and your hair onto the dark wood

Wringing out what you could beforehand, you opened the front doors of the estate as quietly as you could, albeit in vain as Thoma and your husband were having a discussion right at the entrance.

Both men turned to look at you as the door closed and you could only stare back awkwardly as the sound of water dripping from you clothes and hair, along with your shivering filled the room.

Thoma was the first to break the silence and began fussing over you not unlike a mother hen.

“My lady you’re soaking wet! You’re going to get sick! I’ll have the maids draw a bath for you. Please allow me to grab your belongings. I’ll have tea ready for you once you’re done.

Before you knew it, you were standing in your bathroom with a steaming tub waiting for you. Still bewildered at what had transpired moments before.

Still, Thoma and his efforts were never unwelcome as the bath was exactly what you needed.

You took your time in the bath, taking in the scent of the flowers and oils put in by the maids, appreciating how well the water warmed your once cold body.

Once finished, you were quick to dry off and get dressed, still towel drying your hair as you entered your room.

As promised, Thoma had left a tea set on the table in your room with a container holding tea leaves, knowing you liked to brew it yourself.

The only thing out of place was an extra tea cup.

As if on cue, the door to your room was gently slid open and your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of pale blue hair.

“My lord!” you greeted, the words leaving you mouth before you could even try to stop them.

Ayato paused as the two of you made eye contact, it was almost as if he was surprised himself that you were in your own room.

Ayato was the first to regain his composure after clearing his throat. “Majority of my plans for today have been cancelled due to the weather, I was hoping you could allow me to join you for a bit.”

Your head was spinning, not able to wrap itself around the fact that your husband was in your room and actively trying to spend time with you.

“Of course if that’s how you wish to spend your free time my lord.” you stammered, part of you still believing that this was some sort of dream.

A small shiver ran down your spine and you were reminded of the damp hair that ran down your back. You looked to the vanity in your room and then back at your husband.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to fix my hair situation beforehand.”

“Of course y/n there’s no need to worry, it’s just me.”

That was precisely why you were panicking on the inside at that moment. It was only the man who was so busy, that his presence in the house on a daily basis resembled that of a gust of wind.

You sat down at you vanity and picked up one of your combs, beginning the task of untangling the mess you had created both in the rain and bath.

You nearly groaned out loud to yourself, you had kept your hair long to be able to use the multitude of flamboyant hair accessories you had acquired, but brushing it had always been your least favourite part of the entire process.

A awkward cough caused you to look at the man in your room.

“if you are comfortable with it…I could help you brush your hair.”

You stared in shock at the man in front of you. His face was genuine but you could tell by the reddening of his ears that he was flustered, the most you had ever seen from him.

The combination of being a witness to such a rare site and the fact that you were still in shock that he was there in the first place, had you speaking without much thought.

“That would be very helpful my lord, thank you.”

The surprise on his face was visible You could only hope that your whirlwind of emotions wasn’t as obvious.

Still, not one to go back on his word, Ayato gently took the comb from your outstretched hand and began to work. His powerful presence behind you almost causing you to curl in on yourself.

He was gentle, his hands warm as they followed your comb, a warm feeling spread throughout you chest as he so carefully detangled your hair, taking his time.

You hoped that he wouldn’t be able notice through your reflection just how flustered you were at this moment. Your face was hot, your breathing was slightly rapid and you couldn’t find it in yourself to look up at the mirror in fear that your eyes would connect.

Yet this moment felt so intimate, so tender and domestic. You could almost believe that you two were much closer than you really were.

A soft chuckle broke you from your thoughts.

“This brings me back.” Ayato sighed wistfully, “when we were younger, Ayaka would let me do this for her. Though she seemed less than impressed when I would try different styles on her. I wonder if she would trust me with her hair again after all this time.”

You smiled down at your fidgeting hands “I’m sure she would if you promised no more experiments my lord.”

Ayato hummed in contemplation “I suppose you may be right, but at the same time maybe I won’t need to ask her if I already have yours within reach.” He leaned closer to your ear, “After all, am I wrong to assume that you are enjoying this my dear wife?”

Your face felt like it was on fire, you had never heard him call you that to your face before. You could feel the smug smile that was currently gracing his features as he leaned back and continued his actions.

“Well?” He urged after a moment

“No you are not wrong to assume that my lord.” You managed to stammer out. Your hands clenched into fists in your lap as you forced yourself to say the truth, knowing well that he would be able to see through any lie.

He sighed. “Please y/n I think we’re at a point where we can drop the formalities.”

Your eyes widened at his words and you spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“Are we really?”

His hand that was holding the brush froze mid stroke, the room was suddenly filled with a chilled silence and you cringed at the amount of malice an anger that you managed to fit into one simple question.

This was no way to talk to the man you were married to.

“Forgive me my… Ayato. I did not mean to sound so harsh I just-“

“No no there’s no need to apologize.” ayato assured. He raked a hand through your hair and chuckled bitterly, “I supposed it is my fault that you feel this way about our…situation

You opened your mouth to protest but nothing came out. What he said wasn’t a lie to make you feel better for snapping at him. It was entirely the truth and you were grateful that he understood where you were coming from.

“Finished.” He stated softly before placing the comb back on your vanity. “I hope that I haven’t worn out my welcome.”

You paused for a moment, thinking about the situation you found yourself in, while wanting to get yourself out of the awkward moment, you knew that a chance to spend time with him again would be rare.

“You haven’t, don’t worry,” you stated as you slowly rose from your seat. Still refusing to look up at him you gestured to the low table where the tea set sat, “Please have a seat, I’ll brew the tea for us.”

It was quiet as you worked, the only sounds in the room being the clink of tea set, and the crinkle of tatami mats. You thanked Thoma in your mind when you saw that he had prepared leaves that were better steeped in lower temperatures, as the water had cooled down since he first boiled it.

“We’ll have to wait a couple minutes.” You said as you closed the lid of the teapot. Ayato nodded and an awkward silence filled the room.

“I don’t want to use me being busy as an excuse.” Ayato suddenly blurted out.

You finally look up at him in surprise “Pardon?”

Ayato cleared his throat “My apologies. It’s just that I know that everyone has been using me being busy to excuse me for being absent in this relationship. While I know that lin its simplest terms, what we have between us is a contract, part of me still hoped that I would be able to get to know you well and we could be much more than strangers. There are many times where I could have put my work aside and spent more time with you, but I for some reason I never found myself taking those opportunities.”

He looked almost guilty as he continued. “Now here I am, months later knowing next to nothing about you, and on top of that I expected you to be comfortable with speaking casually around me when we have barely even spoken before.

You pondered to yourself as you poured tea into his cup “Well if it makes you feel any better,” you poured more into your own “I also know next to nothing about you.”

“Unfortunately that only seems to add salt to the wounds my dear.” Ayato grumbled.

Your eyes widened at the pet name and you quickly lifted your teacup to your face to hide your embarrassment.

Ayato followed suit and hummed in satisfaction as he drank. “Well I do know one thing now. My wife is excellent at brewing tea. It must run in your family’s genes.”

You waved him off “it’s just something that comes with experience, my uncle is the true master.”

“I also now know that my wife finds it hard to accept compliments.”

“Hey!”

Ayato smiled at you teasingly as you glared at him, though there was no anger behind it.

“Well now that’s unfair,” you stated “I should get to learn something about you now.”

Your husband raised an eyebrow, “well what would you like to know?”

You faltered for a moment, not expecting him to relent so easily, “well…” you stuttered, “what type of tea would you consider your favourite?”

“Really digging deep are we y/n?”

“I couldn’t think of something straight away!”

Despite the teasing, the questions continued, it was as if you were on a first date.

Except you were already living together and married.

One question was asked after the other. Ranging from you asking him about the daily life of a tri-commissioner, to him asking about the books you had bought earlier in the day.

It was only after Thoma had brought dinner to your room, that you had finally asked.

“So why me?”

Ayato’s chopsticks paused mid air “Why what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, he was playing dumb.

“Why did Inazuma’s most desired bachelor, Yashiro commissioner, leader of the famed Shuumatsuban, and the man who brought the Kamisato Clan back to its former glory, the Kamisato Ayato. Decide that a nobody from a tea producing clan was the one you would want to spend the rest of you life with.”

Ayato looked at you in exasperation “You aren’t a nobody y/n there’s so much more to you.”

“We don’t need to get down to the specifics, don’t avoid the question!” You exclaimed, ignoring the pleased smile on his face as he took in your flustered state.

Ayato put a hand to his chin and hummed as if contemplating something grand. He took a moment to respond. “Would you believe me if I said that I found you to be a very interesting person y/n?”

You stared at him blankly.

“Don’t lie to me we didn’t even meet until the wedding.”

The smile that he sent you sent a chill down your spine “Well I suppose that’s true in a sense, but we have been in each other’s presence on multiple occasions.”

You couldn’t mask the your surprise, “we have?”

Ayato looked at you incredulously. “Surely you know how often the Yashiro commission requests supplies from your clan for the multiple events we host.”

You fiddled with your teacup “Well sure but that doesn’t mean that it was a guarantee that we bump into each other. I’m sure I would have remembered being in the presence of you of all people.”

Ayato shrugged, “Being in the public eye is much more my sisters domain. I tend to stick to the shadows during bigger festivals that I’m interested in. During one of these times… you caught my eye.”

Your eyes widened “I did?”

He looked bashful as he continued his story, you were sure that you were the first person to ever see him in this state.

“I always knew of you, as I often meet with your uncle for business. I don’t know if you know this but he often worries about you and tends to talk about you during these meetings.” Ayato hummed in contemplation. “Perhaps it was a tactic to make me say yes to the upcoming proposal”

You groaned in horror at the realization that the two men had been talking about you “I apologize for my uncles actions.”

Ayato waved dismissively “Thats not the point. At a festival is where I first saw you and was able to put a name to a face. What I didn’t expect was the fact that everything about you had fascinated me. The way you danced and had that kind of sparkle in you eyes as you wandered around in wonder. The way you kindly greeted everyone you met. I found myself looking for you at following festivals to see if that was always how you looked…it was.”

“So it was only my looks” you teased

he sighed exasperated “Of course not”

You laughed “I’m kidding. Keep going.”

“Then at one point I was due for a meeting at your estate with your uncle and I might have listened in on a deal you were striking with a business man. The confidence in your voice was obvious and the way you negotiated with grace and kindness, yet still with firmness, had me intrigued within the first couple seconds of me hearing it. My interest only grew when your meeting had concluded and I saw you step out. with an accomplished smile on your face”

You gaped at him, you very rarely took part in your family’s business deals, only helping with what your cousins or uncle were too busy to handle. For him to be there at that time on that day was truly a great coincidence.

“You really piqued my interest that day. Although it was not my first choice in ways to get closer to you, when I saw the proposal sent by your clan, everything seemed to fall into place.” Ayato laughed but his tone soon turned solemn.

“Unfortunately not everything worked out for me, because look at how things are going. I left you to fend for yourself against the public, we rarely see each other, and this is the longest we have ever spoken despite being married for months. I think I was just afraid of crossing any boundaries, after all this marriage is arranged and I had no idea as to how you felt about me.”

Without thinking you reached over the table and grabbed one of his hands in both of yours, touched by how vulnerable he was being with you, “I wouldn’t have agreed to the marriage so easily if I thought ill of you in any way, while I may not have known you, you also piqued my interest. I won’t lie I was- still am extremely shocked, but I saw nothing bad coming out of this marriage really. It started off slow but we’re talking now, and well, don’t you think we’ve made some great progress?”

He smiled endearingly at you, “yes, I am grateful for this opportunity and hope that we can continue on this path.”

You laughed, “now you’re making it sound like a business deal.”

After that, you and Ayato finished your dinner making pleasant conversation. The sun had long gone down when he made the call for the both of you to retire for the night.

He once again stood in the doorway of your room, only this time you were standing right in front of him.

“I’ll have a heavier workload tomorrow but I think I’ll be able to join you for dinner again.”

You smiled up at him “I would like that, please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with, I’m part of this clan too you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you y/n.”

There was a pause and Ayato reluctantly continued. “Well I should take my leave for the night.”

As he turned, something seemed to overcome you, and you grabbed at his wrist,

“Ayato.”

He froze and turned to look at you curiously. you shyly looked away, “before you go. May I have a hug?”

He gave you a teasing smile, “this is all happening so fast, what will everyone think?”

“Oh please we’re already married.”

He laughed and his smile softened.

Without anymore words, Ayato opened his arms.

You couldn’t hold back the giddy smile that crossed your face and without hesitation you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace for the first time in what would become many.

A scent that was uniquely his filled your nose, and as you pressed against his chest you could feel and hear his heart pounding just as hard as yours. You nearly sighed in satisfaction as you wrapped your arms around his waist. A need you had been suppressing for months had finally been fulfilled. His hold was strong and comforting, his hold making you feel like you again.

Ayato chuckled to himself as his grip tightened, “well now I’ve found myself in a predicament.”

Still holding onto him, you turned your head to look up at him. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to let go.”

#genshin impact #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin x reader #ayato x reader #genshin ayato

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gyusimp · 1 month

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°•Lord Muzan feels tired after work

Finally the one-shot I promised! I changed the initial idea so I basically rewrote the whole thing again because of a dream I had and it gave me all the inspiration I needed lmao it even gave me an idea for another longer fic with Muzan. I ended up doing it in the canon Taisho Era so enjoy!

Art credits for the creator (not mine)

It wasn't physical fatigue that he felt, after all, the progenitor of demons was tireless. He was rather fed up. Fed up with his employees, his servants, humans in general and how exhausting it was to be the only perfect and intelligent creature among them. His day had been full of problems today.

The current role he had was that of a young and rich businessman, owner of a company importing foreign products whom he murdered in order to carry out his plans and continue increasing his fortune. He forged a few papers, impersonated some people and murdered others and so the company was his now but that included all his stupid and useless employees. He was so fed up with damn humans, sometimes he avoided dismissals, it depends on their mood and how efficient they were at some point then Muzan fired them, otherwise he just called them to his office simply to kill them.

Then a few months later he met you, a young and beautiful woman in the business world with a company dedicated to natural medicine and importing medicinal plants. You were an essential piece in his plan to conquer the sun. He married you when he had the chance to but you eventually found out that he wasn't human. How come you were still alive then? You discovered it on your own, you didn't make a fuss or try to run away from him, you simply let him know that you already knew through small clues or ways of acting, like you were in charge of closing all the curtains in the house during the day but you didn't ask the servants to do it for you. Your loyalty to him remained despite knowing what he was and that was not lost on Muzan.

One night, he told you what this was all about, if you hadn't left despite knowing his condition then you had to stay alive. Muzan gave you the choice if you wanted to become a demon or not but whatever your answer was, you had to serve him for your entire life. The fact of being immortal did not tempt your human weakness but you told him that by having the ability to walk under the sun, you could be his eyes in the light of day and help him do different things so you both ended up accepting. You were legally his wife, so in front of everyone Muzan treated you as such although there were times in private where he was still a little soft on you, plus, he is an attractive looking man which led you to feel some things more for him , taking on mind his demonic nature.

Today had been a terribly long day, the fatigue in Kibutsuji's body caused the veins on his forehead to stand out strongly under his skin, his red eyes appeared and his pupils turned into vertical slits like a cat's. He took off the black trench coat he was wearing and left it on the coat rack at the entrance, his fangs grew to normal size after having hidden them all day, as did his sharp blue nails, making one of his servants tremble who should have already gone home. The man next to him was observed with indifference, his skin was pale and he was sweating coldly having seen the small transformation of his master, then he remembered the stories of those man-eating creatures that the women of his town told the children.

"A monster! This man is not human!! MISS KIBUTSUJI, THERE IS A DEMON IN THE HOUSE!" the man shouted trying to alert you.

His shrill screams tried Muzan's patience and when the man turned to walk up the stairs towards you he was cut into pieces in less than 2 seconds. The reddish and thick liquid splashed Kibutsuji's face making him sigh and wipe it with a handkerchief as well as his hand, the drops dripped on the stairs and when he walked next to him he moved it with too much disgust using his foot and continuing his way towards your room upstairs.

Like a gentleman, he knocked on the door before entering and upon hearing your voice he entered the room. You hadn't heard anything but his murderous look told you that he wasn't in the best of moods so you didn't say anything. You went to the bathroom in the large room and put on a pearl-colored sleeveless sleeping dress with a matching silk robe. Just like your husband, you preferred to dress in a Western style, you left your hair down and went out. You found him sitting on the edge of the bed, with both hands together mumbling some things, noticing how stressed he was and without saying anything you knelt on the bed behind him and started massaging his shoulders. You were involved in the world of medicine since you were little, so you knew the points where stress usually accumulates. Feeling your hands exerting pleasant pressure on his body, Muzan couldn't help but tilt his head to the side and put aside everything he was thinking, he took off his tie and closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. You continued caressing his neck, shoulders and back until slowly his muscles relaxed and his veins stopped showing under his skin.

"Can i...?" You asked, bringing your hands to the collar of his shirt.

You unbuttoned the entire garment and got rid of it completely leaving his naked and well-worked torso exposed, you continued massaging his shoulders and back until he felt good enough to close his eyes and lay his head on your chest, feeling your breasts very close to him. Your hands were soft and light, with a sincere and warm touch making his thoughts go elsewhere. While you continued doing your thing, he got rid of his belt and unbuttoned his pants without you realizing it, then grabbed your wrist with some force and brought you in front of him so that you were sitting astride his lap. As soon as you sat down, he took it upon himself to stare at you and open the robe you were wearing to see your breasts under the thin fabric of the nightgown and how your nipples were beginning to stand out. He took off your robe and then grabbed the hem of your nightgown to pull it up and take it off as well. A few seconds passed, he lightly patted your thigh to make you lift your butt so he could get rid of your panties as well, leaving you completely naked under his gaze. He gently took your hand, still looking at you, and brought it up to his face to caress it against his cheek and kiss your palm elegantly.

"You are a rather attractive woman...worthy of bearing my last name." You felt so lucky when he took the time to compliment you since you knew his disdain for almost everything.

You melted at his touch, at his kisses, but an unusual sensation on the skin of your hand made you look in that direction. You saw how a mouth began to form in Muzan's palm with teeth, tongue and everything. You knew about all the changes and transformations that his body was capable of so it no longer surprised you at all since he also knew how to use those changes to your advantage. Muzan smiled at you with seductive malice and with his free hand he grabbed your waist while the hand with his mouth went straight between your legs, placing his palm just below your pussy. You couldn't help but moan and startled a little when you felt his warm breath hitting you, you felt his tongue come out from his palm and begin to suck and lick all your folds. You looked at Muzan with a huge blush as you grabbed his shoulders. While his palm was in charge of your center, he brought 2 of his fingers to your hole, making you arch your back as you felt him enter and arch his fingers inside you. Both sensations made you begin to moan his name and move your hips on him to increase your own pleasure as he hardened dangerously beneath you. His entire mouth sucked on your pussy, playing with it with his teeth and pressing your clit against his tongue over and over again as he moved his fingers and the mouth on his face kissed and bit your neck and collarbones. You were starting to get very wet, the saliva and your juices between your legs making you feel very hot and slippery. Muzan's free hand took you from behind to bring you closer to him and caressed your back until it went down and reached your butt, then he went to your bust and began to knead one of your breasts between his fingers, causing you endless moans.

"Aa-aah...Muzan! Aah!" You could barely speak properly.

You rubbed your center on the palm of his hand while the mouth beneath you devoured you completely, you listened to the wet sounds that leaked beneath you and imagining the dirty scene aroused you more and more. The simple act of letting the Demon King fuck you as he pleased turned you on no matter what. Muzan was going too fast and every rub on and lick on your folds was killing you, you clung tightly to his shoulders making scratches that regenerated immediately feeling your orgasm getting closer to the point of not even being able to stay upright. Your head leaned down, leaving your left hand on his shoulder while you held on to the bed with your right as if your life depended on it, never stopping moaning or moving.

Muzan watched you from above, proud of the mess he made of you, of how he was able to lower such a prestigious and elegant lady to such a level, making her beg for more as if she were a prostitute. You were close, he knew it by the way you squeezed his fingers tighter than before and he didn't want to let this moment pass him by. Muzan grabbed your chin to make you look into his eyes.

"Look at me...you're about to cum, aren't you? I want you to look at me..."

You tried to raise your face towards him but lust was stronger than your five senses, your body was heavy with pleasure and you could barely open your eyes properly. You didn't heed his request and that might make him angry so this time he held you tighter, digging his nails into your soft flesh making your cheeks sting.

"I told you I want you to look at me when you do it...it's an order." He demanded.

You clung to his shoulders without stopping moving and he increased his speed, you squeezed him again and just when you felt yourself on the edge you looked down but forced yourself to half open your eyes and look up again just as you screamed of pleasure as you feel all your whitish and slippery discharge come out from your core, wetting all of Muzan's hand under you where his mouth did not waste a single drop.

"Your taste is very pleasant, dear. I would never get tired of it." He licked his lips.

You were shaking in his lap, sweating all over your body, and a huge blush came over you again when you looked down and saw the mess you had left in his pants. Muzan smiled evilly at you and pushed you on the bed to change places and position himself over you after having completely gotten rid of all his clothes.

Your hair was a mess on the bed, your chest rose and fell trying to normalize your breathing and you could feel your sensitive folds throbbing after such a strong euphoria. You finished having your orgasm, you were wet and slippery and Muzan wasn't going to waste that.

"It's my turn, precious."

He told you, showing you his fangs in a smile and in less than you expected he opened your legs to position himself in the middle of you, he took one of your legs behind your knee and placed it on his shoulder without letting go and then entered you with a single thrust making you moan intensely. He didn't care that you had not yet adapted to his size, he began to stretch you and move repeatedly inside you until he aroused you again. You could hear his soft moans and grunts in your ear as he moved, you took him by the shoulders again and adjusted your legs so you both felt better.

Even though this was only the second round for you you felt almost dead tired, your legs and waist were starting to hurt and you envied the way your husband wasn't even sweating. A pleasurable sensation formed inside you as you felt the crashes of each of his thrusts against your clit and the pressure you felt on it again and again causing you to stretch your toes and squeeze Muzan very tightly again. He loved feeling you that way, you drove him crazy with pleasure and you noticed how the veins appeared again on his back and arms but this time it was due to the strong arousement he was feeling. He had the nerve to lift his head from your shoulder and moan heavily as he closed his eyes and increased his speed, feeling you suck him deep.

"Fuck...you're perfect nngh, you're even better than those 12 fucking idiots." He moaned, complimenting you.

You loved pleasing your husband and even more so seeing that you were doing a good job. Knowing that you could manage to put the Demon King in such a vulnerable state turned you on more, making you eagerly wait for his orgasm and the second one on your part, but on the other hand it made you nervous. Muzan's arousal was as strong as 10 men combined every time he fucked you and his release was just as intense or even more so, so when he tilted his head back after you cum again, you felt a huge amount of his falling inside you reaching the bottom of your insides, spilling the rest between your legs until forming a whitish stain on the bed, under the two of you.

The way Muzan felt his scent permeate your flesh once again made him feel powerful, it was a way of claiming you as his because no matter how many times you showered or cleaned yourself, how many days went by without him fucking you, Muzan let his cells inside you, so that any creature that knew of his existence would also know that you belonged to him.

#muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan smut #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 days

Text

Winter's King 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: double chapter day?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

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The summer sun brings little warmth to the castle of Debray. Those left behind in the shadow of their lord’s march to war, bide their time with baited breaths and unspoken worries. The duchess sinks into her cups, a nectar to her already sharp tongue, as her daughter buries herself in her wardrobe.

Lady Jazlene hands you dress after dress, demanding a stitch here or there, only to snatch it back and have you cut the cloth of another to alter yet a third. And a fourth, fifth, sixth. Strips of fabric and loose buttons litter the drawing room table as you and Merinda put your needles to work.

“Motherrrr,” Jazlene swirls around, swaying her hips back and forth, “it has been a fortnight already.”

“Your father will return soon,” Lady Rezlyn slurs before she empties her goblet. She has no husband to chide her away from excess. “Never fear, dearest.”

“That is not—mother, what am I to do? I have no wedding dress!”

“You have no mind,” Rezlyn snickers, “you will have only rags by the time you decide.”

“Hm,” Jazlene approaches the table with her hands on her hips, “mother, that gown with the gold lace. The one you wore last solstice--”

“My gold lace,” Rezlyn sneers, “no!”

“But mother. I only want the lace. You can have it re-trimmed. It would look much nicer with pearls,” Jazlene whines, “do you not understand? I am to marry a king. I cannot look as some simple countryside daughter.”

Rezlyn clucks and shakes her head, “if it hushes your endless moaning, have the lace.”

Jazlene gives a triumphant grin and turns to you. She grabs your arm and the needle catches in the fabric, slipping from your grasp, “go fetch mother’s dress. It is rosy satin.”

“And wine! Bring more wine,” Rezlyn interjects.

Jazlene rolls her eyes and flicks you away with her fingers. You hastily retreat as Merinda grimaces at her labour. Your fingers hurt from the endless hemming and seaming and you’ve noticed she’s jabbed herself more than once as the noble daughter changes course back and forth.

You flit from the chamber and sweep down to the kitchens. The descent into the cellar is lit by only the candle in your hand, the flame wobbling dangerously before you. You find a bottle of the duchess’ preferred and climb back into the light.

You snuff the tallow and quickly press on you. You climb the stairs again but falter as the wail of a horn breaks the afternoon din. You spin and turn to the window. Several other servants cluster beneath the arched opening as they try to see the horizon. The blast comes again, three in quick succession, followed by a long blare.

The noise of chain and mail comes from the courtyard below. The few men left behind to man the castle walls are quick to action. You can see the flap of banners and nothing more between the other curious bodies.

“Who is it? Enemy soldiers?” Waldon wonders.

“I cannot see, my eyes are dim,” Margite shields her vision from the sun as leans over the sill. Their chatter swirls at the approach.

“It is them! The Lord’s banner!” Stellan exclaims, “I can make out the sun and the sword on the banner. And the Winter King’s white crown.”

“They return! They return!” Another cries out, “are they victorious?”

You shuffle away. You forget about the golden lace and return to the drawing room. You enter and look down at the bottle in your hands. You blink, trying to recall what you were about to do. You set the wine on the table near the duchess as Jazlene seizes your other arm.

“Where is the dress?” She snarls, “ugh, are you so useless--”

“They’ve returned,” you utter cluelessy.

“They...” Jazlene begins.

“The king and your father, my lady,” you explain, “we saw them through the window. I thought to say so before I went to your mother’s wardrobe--”

“Quiet!” She shoves you away, “I need a different dress. The crimson slit with ivory. Yes, yes, now!”

She pushes you again and you stumble to the door.

“And slippers,” she calls after you, “Merinda! Get over here.”

You scurry back out and to Lady Jazlene’s chamber. You enter and sort through the mess of her clothing strewn and heaped about. You find the red and ivory dress and a pair of slippers of a similar hue. You are certain to bring a selection of jewels and pins to assuage any further remonstrance.

In the drawing room, Jazlene has Merinda fixing her hairpins. You approach with your armful and lay it on the table. Outside the walls, you can hear the chaos unfurling. You can hardly keep the noises straight as cogs grind, ropes groan, and the noblewoman carry on their tittering.

You help Jazlene step into the dress, Merinda holding the other side. As you work at the sleeves and skirts, she fidgets around.

“The king? The king is with them for sure?” She breaths.

You nod, “yes, my lady. His banner--”

“Mother! They have won. They must have.”

“Do not be too presumptuous,” the other lady rises and nears the table, snatching up a string of pearls, “come. Put these around my neck.”

There’s banging and knocking and footfalls and voices yelling. The walls cannot keep out the rising fervour. Horse hooves and rusty hinges. They are close, in the castle or more. You pull tight the laces of the dress as Merinda clasps the pearls around the duchess’ thick neck.

There is someone before the door. A shadow darkens below it for just an instant before it opens. No permission is asked as Lord Dustan clatters in. His eyes is swollen near shut.

“Daughter, wife, you must come down to the--”

Heavy, steady steps follow him. You continue to weave the laces through the eyes, going as fast as you can.

“Father, I am not dressed. I am not ready to receive--” Jazlene protests.

Dustan looks behind him and backs away from the doorframe. King Geralt fills it with his large figure, a dark cut along his hairline though he hardly seems bothered by it. Otherwise, he is untouched, unblemished. You knot the laces as you peek over Jazlene’s shoulder and his gold eyes shimmer in the low lantern light.

“Your highness,” Jazlene gasps and drops to a curtsy. You stand, dumbfounded for an instant before you bend your neck and your knee to his status. “We were not warned of your coming. I pray you have tasted victory,” she raises her head slowly, “and we may wed in celebration to ring your reign in the Summer Kingdom.”

He grumbles as his eyes search the space. Dull yet vibrant at the same time. He tilts his head as his jaw squares, “a king’s wife mustn’t fret so much about silks and wine,” he growls as he breaks the threshold. He marches to the rigid high back chair and lowers himself, “victory is mine but that does not mark the end of my efforts. I have no kingdom until all that which has broken is repaired.”

“Certainly, your highness, and I will be by your side to help you amend what has been injured. As your loyal wife and queen,” she wilts as she wobbles just a little, “I am only so happy to see you alive and returned.” She rises as straight as she can and sweeps over to him, pushing out her chest, “but not unharmed. Your highness, you have been wounded.”

She goes to touch the gash along his forehead and he motions her away with a flat palm.

“It is not dire,” he insists, “Lord Dustan, where is your bishop?”

“I sent away for him. He will come,” the duke avows.

“The bishop?” Jazlene looks to her mother.

“For the vows, precious,” Dustan assures.

“The vows? Now? Today? But father--”

“I haven’t time to wait around on paltry feasts and drunken hordes,” the king insists.

“But-- but--” Jazlene stammers, “I am a queen, I should have a wedding.”

“You are still but a duke’s daughter,” the king snaps, “a wedding you will have. Let us swear the words as was arranged. Then we must away.”

“Away? Away?” Jazlene echoes again.

“Take this parrot away from me,” King Geralt barks as he slams his fist into the arm of chair, “I tire of her squawking. When the bishop arrives, fetch me and I shall keep the oath I made.”

The edge in his voice cannot be missed on that single word. He is a man who would not break a promise given, not the like the one cowering by the door. You glance up slowly as you notice Jazlene quaking. You can tell by her fists that she is not so much afraid anymore as she is angered.

“Daughter,” Rezlyn girds and touches her daughter’s arm, “a wife should learn first to obey. Let us go paint your lips and await the bishop.”

“This cannot be...” Jazlene hisses.

“Quiet,” Lord Dustan snaps, “you want to marry, you marry as you are told. Out.”

Lady Rezlyn keeps the duke from grabbing his daughter, instead steering her through the door herself. Merinda follows first and you trail after. The king grumbles, “Debray, leave a maid. She may fetch me that wine.”

“My lord,” Lord Dustan points you back tersely, “the wine.”

“Leave me,” King Geralt demands of his fair-weather lord.

Dustan retreats and shuts the door heavily. You turn and cross to the table where you left the sealed bottle. You put your hand around the neck and lift it. You face the king and cross to him with your head low.

“Your highness, would you like a goblet?” You ask.

“I am not interested in imbibing,” he reaches beneath his mail and pulls free a grey handkerchief, “pour it on this.”

You crack the wax seal of the bottle and grab the bulbous head of the cork. You wiggle it but cannot dislodge it. You struggle with it and he wraps his large hand around the pregnant bottom.

“Little maid,” he slips it from your grasp and puts the kerchief in your hand.

The uncorks it with only his thumb, flicking free the stopper, and he reaches out to you. You press the cloth to rim and he tilts it slightly, wetting the fabric. He pulls it away and reaches to place it on the floor. You look at him curiously. He leans forward and runs his index below the gash in his head. You get his meaning and daintily press the damp cloth to his head.

“The alcohol cleanses,” he says as he leans heavier into your touch.

“It looks rather painful, your highness.”

You wince at your own careless words. You don’t know why you said anything at all. He sits in silence, breathing slowly. At last, he sits back and looks at you. You drop your hand and your chin.

“Might I get you anything else, your highness?” You offer as you fold the cloth into a tight wad.

“Tell me, how do you fare?”

“Your highness?” You peek up at him through your lashes.

“Are you well? Have you rested? Are you fed?” He prompts.

You raise your head, surprised by his questions.

“I am well, your highness. I have a roof above me.”

His cheek ticks, “same as you were. Same as I remember.”

He puts his head back and closes his eyes. He sighs deeply. You waver before him, unsure what to do next.

“I don’t mind the cold. My land is frigid most days but I felt a true shiver out there on that road. Even Roach could not ease it.”

You watch him, awaiting an order, not so well attuned to conversation. More often than not, a response is not warranted, just action. He gives you little direction though he is a man who easily commands.

“My horse. Stinky steed,” he muses as he keeps his eyes closed, “valiant nonetheless.” He lets out another heavy exhale, “will you mind the door? Wake me when the bishop arrives should I doze?”

“As you wish, your highness,” you go to the door, taking your usual stance beside it.

He is still. The amber light of the lantern limns his large figure as he reclines in the stiff chair. He does not move but a man who has ridden to war has slept on worse. You cannot tell if he truly slumbers but you know it is not appropriate to stare.

You remain in silence. It isn’t so bad to the duchess and her daughter. Almost serene if not for the tension of the man’s presence. A king. A wintry figure with his icy hair and colder demeanour. You do not envy Jazlene, he will be a rigid husband. She will not bowl him over as her mother does the duke.

You listen beyond the walls, trying to track the activity beyond. There are softer voices you can’t make out, creaks which could be only the wind, and footfalls which are most certainly only servants about their tasks. The tedium stretches on as the lantern light wobbles.

You stare at the wall opposite. The summer hue breezes in with a hint of pollen between the open curtains. Still the chamber remains dim in stone and mortar.

There is the crank of the gates and you shift. You turn your head to hear better the entry of a new party. A man’s tenor from below assures you of the arrival. You wait until the footfalls reach the stairs. You do not relish waking the king should he have managed to sleep.

You look to the king in the chair but find him alert. His eyes are centered on you as he sits straight, golden irises blazing. You gulp and shy away.

“I believe the bishop has come, your highness.”

He doesn’t speak or move. He just watches you. His gaze bores until it burns. You fear you might have strayed somehow.

Finally, he slides to the edge of the chair and stands. He does not seem eager as he makes slow progress towards the door. As he crosses the room, he stops, just before the door, right beside you.

“A war for a wife,” he mutters, “a barter, I suppose.” He reaches for the metal loop on the door, “come, little maid, we might need a pillow should the lady faint again.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #winter's king #medieval au

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that-basic-simp · 1 month

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The Ronin and The Bride

Mizu x Fem!Reader CW: N/A WC: 2.6k+ Uses mostly he/him pronouns for Mizu until towards the end.

"You're a lot younger than I expected you to be," I said as I was standing in front of my soon to be husband.

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or not."

"Take it as you will," I said, turning away from him.

My mother arranged this marriage as she was starting to get older and prone to more accidents if she wasn't taken care of. I think it was an excuse to get some money after my father passed away. And I couldn't really bring in money no matter how many jobs I took on. And my mother was always selling her body to any man she would to get money. It was never enough and so deciding to marry me off to someone was the best option.

"Let's get this over with," I sighed.

Once everything was said and done, my mother was milling about the small house my husband owns. It wasn't the best for us, but it held the three of us and that was all that mattered. There was a small little farm in the back where we could grow our own vegetables. There were even some cattle in the back as well. So there really wasn't much for us to worry about when it came to food, as there was plenty already harvested and ready to be prepared.

"What's your name?" I turned to the man.

"Mizu," he said, removing his Kasa from his head. "Yours?"

"Y/N," I said.

"Nice to meet you."

"What did you do before getting married?"

"I killed people," was all he said and bluntly.

"Like a samurai? A lord's swordsman?"

"No. I don't really know what to call it."

"A ronin, maybe?"

"That might work."

"Are you still killing people?"

"I," Mizu let out a sigh. "I tried to. But it seems people find me and want to kill me for what I've done."

"And what have you done?"

"Kill people."

"Right," I said. "They want to get revenge on the person who killed someone they knew."

"I was out for revenge," Mizu said.

"You were?" I asked.

"Yes."

"What for?"

Mizu stood up and opened the door, walking out. I let out a sigh as my mother shook her head at me. I stood up and went after Mizu, but he was nowhere to be found. Not even where the tools were to shear the sheep and tend to the livestock. I turned and headed back inside, preparing dinner for us.

When the sun was slowly falling down into the horizon, the door opened up and Mizu walked in. Sweat was running down his forehead and there was something odd about him. He wasn't very masculine for a man. He looked kind of slender, but not very muscular at all. Well, I shouldn't say muscular. I should say, he's not very broad. And there isn't really any facial hair on him. I shouldn't judge. My father had a clean face and whenever his mustache or beard grew in, he'd shave it almost immediately. He didn't care for that kind of look.

I guess I shouldn't really say that Mizu isn't like other men. Maybe that's a good thing. He let out a sigh as he sat down, finding that there were bowls of noddles prepared for him. It wasn't much, but it was what I could do with what he had already here.

Dinner was silent. My mother tried to make conversation with Mizu, but he gave off the impression that he didn't want to talk. Always looking away from her, pretending like he didn't hear, or shrugged his shoulders. There was also another odd thing about him. His glasses. He always wore them, yet again, I've only seen him a couple of times throughout the day. What were they hiding if he was in fact hiding something?

After dinner was finished and cleaned up, my mother went into a different room while Mizu and I were in the same room. He was washing up while I had just finished. It was odd, laying on a mat that wasn't my own. Or I should say, it wasn't in my own house. I didn't feel like I belonged here and that this marriage was going to go anywhere. It felt like Mizu already had a life planned out for himself and now that he has to take care of not only a wife, but his wife's mother, it felt like we were impeding on his life.

Once the door slid open, I looked up and found Mizu's hair to be long and down, past his shoulders. Strange. I know some men have long hair, but I wasn't expecting it to be that long. And silky too, with how the light of the candle reflected off of it. It reminded me of water, like his name. How reflective and wavy it was. And his skin looked soft and gentle, not hard and rough. There was something Mizu wasn't telling me.

"Mizu?" I asked.

"Oh shit," he gasped, jumping slightly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I thought you were asleep."

"I can't."

"It'll take some time to get used to."

"How come you don't really talk to us? To me?"

"I wouldn't blame anything on yourself," Mizu said, getting ready for bed. "I am not really the best person to converse with. I was alone for the majority of my life aside from my adoptive father."

"Who was he?"

"Master Eiji. A sword maker near Kohama village. I grew up there."

"I see."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Kyoto."

"How was it there?"

"It was crowded. Dirty, too."

He snickered, "I thought the same thing."

"When did you go to Kyoto?"

"I had to find the Shindo-dojo and speak to the master there."

"I do remember hearing something of a samurai coming into the dojo and making quite the spectacle."

"That was me. Even though I am not a samurai. I never was."

"Why do you say that?"

"Samurai fight with honor. I had no honor back then. I still don't."

"All the more on why you fit with the ronin," I smiled softly at him.

He nodded before laying down on the mat and blowing out the candle. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, but the curiosity behind Mizu's past kept me up.

The weeks went on and they soon turned into months, and Mizu still didn't really open up to me. He asked me a lot of questions, but whenever I would ask him anything of his past, he'd either leave or evade the question. It infuriated me, but one question bothered me.

"Mizu?" I asked as I was helping him with the harvest for this month.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Why did you allow me to marry you?"

He turned his head, finding my curious gaze at him.

"If I am going to be honest, it was the money."

"The money?"

"Yes. Call it selfish, but--"

I cut him off, slapping him in the face. He stumbled backwards slightly, holding his cheek as it was burning red.

"It is selfish!" I sneered at him. "You live out here by yourself, unbothered by people, and yet you buy me like I am being sold to one of those flesh traders. Or even into prostitution."

He was silent now, looking away from me.

"Do you even know how it feels? To be bought and sold just like that? For money being the only driving force to marry someone? You wouldn't know because you're a man! You don't have to worry about those things at all!"

There was something that changed behind those eyes. They always seemed cold and dull, but as soon as I said that, something snapped within Mizu. His eyes widened slightly, before narrowing as he slowly turned his head to face me. There was a raging storm within those eyes and even though I couldn't see his true eye color, I knew they were burning within. He stood up, straightening himself, even though he was a few inches taller than me.

"What do you know about me?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Nothing! I know nothing about you!"

"Exactly. And we're going to keep it that way."

"I don't even know why I accepted to marry you."

"I accepted. That was all that mattered."

"I should have talked my mother out of it."

"Did your mother have any other people in mind?"

"A few. They would pay more than what we offered you."

"And why did you choose me?"

"I guess it was because you lived out here and not in a city or someplace large like Edo."

"So you came out here for solace?"

"More so for my mother."

"You could have had anything you wanted, but settled to eat trash," Mizu said.

"It wasn't my fault that my mother insisted on me marrying you! Of all people, you! I could be in Edo right now," I said.

"And what? Married to the shogun's son? Basically being a baby factory for them?"

"It'll be better than living out here with nothing around other than a small village nearby to trade things for."

Mizu glared at me, "You chose this life. Not me."

He stalked off, heading inside the house. The door slammed and I winced slightly, letting out a sigh as I knew I had to face my mother once I entered the house. And face my mother I did. She went on to berate me, saying that is not how a wife should talk to her husband. She went into her room and I was left alone. I let out a sigh before getting dinner ready. Once it was, Mizu did not arrive to eat.

"Go find him," my mother said.

"Fine," I said and stood up, heading into our room.

Sliding the door open, Mizu was sitting in the corner.

"Dinner's ready if you want any," I said.

"Y/N, wait."

I stopped, not turning to face him.

"What?"

"Can you look at me?"

I turned and found his glasses were taken off. Slowly lifting his head, he opened them. My eyes widened slightly, finding the most beautiful shade of blue staring back at me.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I accept your apology. But why now? Why show me your eye color?"

"It's one way I know I can trust you. How you react is everything to me."

"Why?"

"I was ridiculed, bullied, and looked down upon for my eye color."

"What's so bad about having blue eyes?"

"First off, I have blue eyes in Japan. It's not normal."

"So your father was one of those white men?"

"Yes. How do you know about that?"

"My father was killed by one of those white men. He heard word that a white man was going to be heading to Edo to kill the shogun. He went to warn the shogun and he died there. He was face to face with that white man and he shot him down like he was nothing. That white man fought with no honor. But with pure intent of wanting all the power in the world."

"I-I was there."

"You were?"

"Yes," Mizu said. "I was there in Edo when that white man killed the shogun."

"Did you kill him?"

"N-No," Mizu turned away. "I-I went to London to find the other two. Once we got there, he ran. I knew nothing on London and decided to return back to Japan."

"So you were on a quest for revenge."

"I was. I never got to complete it."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes."

I nodded my head, "I see. And your eyes, they're very beautiful."

A small smile crawled on his face. That was the only time I have ever seen him smile since I was here.

"And I wouldn't be insecure about your eyes."

"What about your mother?"

"Around her, hide them. But around me, there is no need for you to hide who you are," I said, about to step out of the room. "I'll be beside you no matter what."

Within a few weeks, Mizu was starting to open up more. He was letting me help more around the small farm we had. Such as shearing the sheep, feeding the livestock, and he even took me into the woods to where this peach tree was. They were low enough to where Mizu could reach up with ease and grab one for me. We would spend hours there, just talking more and more about anything and everything. It made me smile to know that Mizu was warming up to the idea of married life.

"Y/N, we need to talk," Mizu said one night.

I was slicing carrots when he said that, almost making me cut my finger off. I had nicked the skin and Mizu rushed over, grabbing some bandages he kept nearby in case this happened.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Yeah. I am. W-What did you want to talk about? I-Is it something that I did?"

"No, no, no," he shook his head, wrapping my finger up. "I-I've just been hiding something from you."

"It's only been half a year since we've been married. And now you're telling me this?"

"Yes. Because you deserve to know the truth."

"Truth? About what?"

"Your mother is not here, is she?"

"No. She went to the village to see if she can get anything for dinner tonight."

"Ok."

"Why?"

"I-It's better that I show you."

He reached up and removed his ponytail, letting his long hair fall down to around chest level. After that, he grabbed his haori and pulled it back, revealing a binding around his chest.

"I'm not a man."

"A woman," I said.

Mizu nodded, "Yes."

"And this changes how?"

She blinked a few times, "Y-You're taking this surprisingly well."

"I told you before, Mizu. There is no need for you to hide who you are around me."

Some tears formed in her eyes as she reached over, pulling me into a tight hug. Pushing her away, she looked confused at me.

"I-I am just shocked you hugged me."

"I-Is that ok? T-To hug you?"

I smiled, "Of course. Just warn me next time."

She chuckled, pulling me into a hug. I hugged her tightly, finally knowing the true Mizu.

"Thank you, Mizu."

"I didn't do anything."

"For showing me who you are."

She smiled, nuzzling the side of her face against mine.

"You're welcome."

My heart beat fast and hard against my chest. I wasn't liking the whole marrying someone I never met before idea, but with Mizu, I am glad my mother picked her from the other men.

"Oh shit!" I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away.

"What? What's wrong?"

"My mother cannot know about this," I said.

"Shit! Right. W-What would she do?"

"For starters, probably have you killed. Either by her hands or by someone else's. But I think by now that you'd kill them before they even drew your blood."

"That's true."

"Or worse," I let out a heavy breath. "She'd make me leave you for another man."

"You say that like a bad thing."

"And you say that like you want it to happen," I said, a little offended.

"I-I didn't mean it like that, Y/N. I-It would be a bad thing for you. But also for me."

"W-What are you saying?"

"I-I've come to enjoy your company. Mostly yours since I have not acquainted well with your mother, but you," she found my eyes, a look of awe in them. "You're someone I want to have in my life. Someone I should have had in my life."

"Why someone like me?"

"You accepted me no matter what. You didn't judge about my eyes and you didn't judge about me revealing the truth. If I would have been found out anywhere else and with anyone else, I'd be rejected. You welcomed me even though we started off rough. Y-You've shown me what unconditional love is. And I couldn't be more grateful for that," she smiled softly at me.

I reached over and grabbed her hand, "Man or woman, Mizu, it doesn't bother me. I will still love you for who you are."

"L-Love me?" some blush crawled onto her cheeks.

My eyes widened, recognizing what I just said. Some blush came onto my cheeks as well.

"S-Shit," I whispered.

She chuckled, her smile growing wider, "So is that a confident response?"

I let out a sigh and placed my hands on her cheeks, pulling her towards me. My lips met hers lightly and her arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into her. She pulled back after a few seconds, taking in a deep breath.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Mizu asked.

"Yes, Mizu. I love you."

"I-I love you, too."

#bes mizu #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eye samurai

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lilibethwrites · 2 years

Note

Hello ! Im surprised how much im on love with Aemond right now, he's so interesting... I wanted to Ask for a scenario where he eavesdrops two Ladies and reader says that instead of being afraid and disgusted by his scar,shes more intrigued ...like she cant take her eyes from him. And now he wants to know who is so foolish. (I would probably stand still if he aproached me xD) thank you and have a nice.day

A Curse and a Blessing

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, incest

Word count: 2023

A.N.: This was such a fun request to write! I think it's pretty self contained, but let me know if you'd like a second part to it.

Aegon II’s nameday celebrations were famed to bring lords and ladies from all across the Seven kingdoms to King’s Landing. Your mother, Princess Rhaenyra and your father, Prince Daemon were no exceptions to those who received invites. Thus, you and your step-brothers flew to the heart of the Throne for a week of feast and entertainment.

Aegon wasn’t seen much, and the conversations of the adults bore you to near death. Offers and pacts, tight-lipped smiles that hid grudges and oaths that were broken as soon as they were made. You had no taste for the arguments over who was the best swordsman of the realm or what material made the best breastplate that your brothers engaged in either.

So you found yourself among your childhood friends with whom you’d driven Septas and Maesters to madness when you were under their tutelage. Some were married, and some even with children already. Though they did not quite delve into the philosophical inquiries of just how much the realm suffered for the fall of Valyria, their gossip was suitable enough to pass the evening.

With your cup in hand, you seated yourself within the close circle that whispered and giggled.

“Oh, dear Y/N, come sit. We were just conversing on the charms of certain Princes.”

“Oh, come off it! I only said I would choose him if I absolutely had to. He is the handsome one of the three.”

“Well, I personally would give my favour to Ser Criston Cole, if you catch my drift.” one of the girls rubbed her swollen belly while staring at the man standing guard across the hall from them.

Y/N grimaced, only half-jokingly. She knew her mother wasn’t fond of Ser Criston, and neither was she.

“Jeyne, who is it that you would choose so… grudgingly? The handsome of the three?” Y/N teased the girl with a plump face and auburn hair that was held in a bun with several colourful ribbons. She and Y/N were the only ones left unmarried, and by the looks of her attire, at least one of them was determined to change it that night.

“Oh, well…” she inhaled and took a large sip from her wine. Then she took a bite from the likewise large cut of cake on her lap to stall the answer.

“You know…” Then her voice lowered. “Prince Aegon.”

Then the girls groaned jokingly and erupted into laughter. Except for Y/N who only gave her a secret, understanding smile.

“Come on now, Jeyne! HE IS—he is a drunkard!”

“And he sired so many bastards they say the Flea Bottom has turned white-haired—oh, sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N only waved her dismissively. Aegon was Alicent’s problem.

“He is at least… intact!” Jeyne spoke with a mouth full of cake. “Unlike his brother! That man… he scares me. I saw him down the hall just this noon. There is something about him—”

“You mean… Prince Aemond?” Y/N perked up. Now, that was a Prince she would converse on.

Unbeknownst to them, behind the heavy tapestry that divided a corner from the Throne Room and reserved a makeshift parlour for the guests, Prince Aemond was eavesdropping on the conversation. He was nursing a cup of wine stronger and more bitter than the ones ladies drank. Though the conversation first grabbed his attention in case a treacherous slander was to be spread—Rhaenyra and her bastard sons were invited, after all—he remained because he was simply bemused. Though he didn’t expect his name to be spoken in a conversation on handsome men and potential husbands. He leaned on of the stone pillars that held the tapestry up in hopes of identifying the ladies.

“It is the scar. Absolutely,” Suesane pointed to the right side of her face, just where Y/N’s half-brother slashed Aemond’s eye out some years back.

“Oh yes. It really is something. I sure am glad we are not to see it entirely.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N murmured matter-of-factly. The girls all turned to her with wide eyes and raised brows.

“What? It is not as bad as you say, I’m certain. I would like to see it. I hear he has a sapphire for a right eye now.”

Aemond couldn’t fight the smirk off his face and leaned even closer to the tapestry to make out the hushed voice of his brave champion.

“Do not toy with us! Imagine him… in… you know… your bedchamber. That is dreadful!”

“On the contrary. I think his scar is… well, I think it is handsome, like him. It suits him. It adds to his charm—”

“His charm! The man is a recluse and a maimed—”

“You are forgetting yourself, Emely!” Y/N spoke up. The fierce backlash forced the girls into silence. Y/N was of the highest-standing title, after all.

The girls scrambled to pacify the tone that shifted drastically with Princess Y/N’s outburst. From the other side, Aemond was intrigued now more than ever. A girl would defend him so feverishly even when he was not around, when she stood to gain nothing from shining up to him in his absence. She truly was his champion, it seemed. Besides, who could command the silence of spoiled, empty-headed pigs for ladies? Could it be? No! No it could not be his niece.

“I only meant that I hear Prince Aemond is a skilled warrior and a scholar, too. Do not be too harsh on him.” Y/N cooled off as well, attempting to salvage the chatter that she cut with her words which might very well have been Valyrian steel.

Aemond had to find out. He had to see. Y/N was too fond of her brothers to favour him. All Seven Gods together couldn’t make her see Aemond as anything but a brute and a bully. So, against his better judgment, he lifted the tapestry. It gave some of the ladies quite the scare as they gasped and shrieked. The cake on Jeyne’s lap fell to the floor with a loud clatter. They were like skittish horses galloping away from a dragon.

“Ladies,” Aemond greeted them with a nod and a smirk. In his mind, his entrance was no cause for alarm, yet to the girls, he seemed like a barbarian Dornish warrior who was intend on having their heads. It amused him all the same that they were scared near death.

“Princess,” he then turned to Y/N who was sitting tall, though her eyes betrayed the surprise his entrance was to her.

“Prince—ahem, Prince Aemond. Uncle.”

Was he just passing by and decided to give the poor girls a scare? That was indeed like him to do so. If not, just how much did he hear?

“I heard a matter unsettled on my brother. And…” he cocked his head to the side with a mischievous, lopsided grin, staring directly at Y/N. He blinked once, twice. With each shutting and opening of his eye, his bemused expression faded into something more difficult to read, something darker that unsettled even Y/N.

“And on my scar.”

“My Prince—we—we meant no—” one of the girls babbled, but the rise of Aemond’s hand stopped her swiftly.

“Allow me to chime in. You wished to see it, dear Niece,” his hand moved up to the eyepatch.

“Avert your precious eyes, my fair ladies,” he spoke with no concern to conceal the contempt he felt for the girls. And they looked all over the room but in Aemond and Y/N’s direction.

Y/N leaned closer in her seat like a woman famished at a rich supper. She often thought about Aemond, about how things could’ve been only if Queen Alicent and her mother could get along better. She also explored her body to the thought of her uncle—more times than she liked to admit.

Then, Aemond pulled the patch off. An icy blue eye and a darker cut of sapphire glimmering in the middle of a dark trail of once-torn flesh, a gift from Luke, stared back at Y/N.

“So see it for yourself.”

One of the girls, braver than the others, tried to steal a glance between her fingers but gasped in terror and turned her head away with a shrill “Oh, Gods be good!”

Y/N took a sharp breath, though Aemond scoffed because he assumed she was just as disgusted as the rest, she only realized his scar was much more handsome than the one she imagined with her trembling hands between her legs under the covers back at Dragonstone.

“That’s what I thought,” Aemond spoke with a tinge of disappointment in his voice. Though from the beating of her heart and the rushing of her mind, Y/N missed it. To Aemond, his niece was a coward just like the rest, and she’d sooner marry a pompous lord than to look at his face again.

“Enjoy your evening, ladies. Princess.”

Y/N chased after him. There was no point in staying anyway. The silence had fallen like a heavy blanket over a corpse upon Aemond’s departure.

Y/N reached for Aemond and grabbed his arm to stop him in his tracks.

“That was unnecessary.” Yet also highly intriguing. Captivating. Seducing.

Aemond gave her a joyless smile. “I warned you so, dear Niece.”

“It was not me who needed the courtesy of sparing the scare—”

“I do not care for the other girls. You claimed you could brave it. And yet—”

“And I did, did I not?”

Y/N stepped forward, now they were dangerously close to one another in the dark corner of the hall.

“Take it off and I shall brave it again if it pleases you, Aemond.” Please do take it off so I can admire it once more.

And he did. A surprise to both himself and Y/N, he pulled the eye patch off and the flames of candles glimmered off the sharp angles of sapphire. Aemond expected that without her audience, Y/N would speak her true mind. Surely, she’d tell him just how grotesque he looked and his ugly scar would haunt her even when she would be back at Dragonstone.

Instead, Y/N stepped closer, rose on her toes to reach for his face, and gently, oh so gently, ran her fingertips across the length of the scar. Where her soft fingers ran, scorching heat came off and flowers of spring blossomed—and they withered and died just as soon as her fingertips moved on.

Aemond was paralyzed under her touch. A lesser woman would’ve screamed for her life and run for the guards or the Queen. With shaky breaths, his heavy-lidded eye met Y/N’s.

“I truly think it’s beautiful,” she whispered, openly enamoured by his charm. Her finger stopped just beneath the sapphire, her palm dangerously close to caressing his cheek. “I shall forever regret the cruelty of my brother. But I shall also envy your lady wife when the time comes, for she will get to see you as you are now, for eternity.”

Y/N’s words sank like an anchor inside Aemond. She spoke sincerely, which made her words all the scarier. Aemond was used to artificial politeness, not to words spoken from the heart as Y/N did. And admittedly, he gave very little thought to marriage. Once he realized his sapphire eye was an object of terror for women, he shut the idea out. When the time came, as Y/N put it, his mother would choose a girl profitable enough to marry. And they wouldn’t be the first nor the final miserable couple in the realm.

Yet, there Y/N was with her finger on his scar and with the impossible promise that it wouldn’t have to be so.

“Hm. If you speak true, perhaps you know me very little, niece.”

“Oh, on the contrary, uncle. I believe I know you better than most.”

The murmured exchange was cut abruptly when Y/N gripped Aemond’s shoulder to raise herself, and Aemond’s hands reached for her waist to keep her stable. Y/N tilted her head up and Aemond down and to the side in unison, and their lips felt as if they were created for each other.

Aemond Tag (let me know if you'd like to be added to it):

@cherishedauthor @schniiipsel @verycollectivecreator @dangerousbluebirdpoetry

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

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jamespotterismydaddy · 9 days

Text

Lord Husband (Chapter 10)

cregan stark x reader

A/N: I keep forgetting I exist. Sorry this is short oopsies

WORD COUNT: 982 words

series masterlist

You hardly see him for weeks. Any new wife would expect her husband to impress his needs upon her frequently after the wedding night in hopes of creating an heir but you almost knew he wouldn’t. There’s something so strange about Cregan Stark; he’s empathetic. It’s not a trait you knew any man could hold. In reality, you should be pleased that your husband doesn’t wish to rape you but you’re more frustrated. He shall want for a son eventually, won’t he? This is only delaying the inevitable and you are a ‘get it over with’ kind of woman.

You arrive at his chambers with little more than a knock on the door. “Do you not wish for an heir, Lord Stark?”

“Good morning.” He murmurs, looking up from the papers on his desk.

“An heir? Is it your wish or not?” You say, disregarding his greeting.

He sighs, already stressed from reading over land disputes and not wishing to be stressed over his petulant wife. “Of course I want for a son.”

“You haven’t visited my chambers in weeks.”

“I did not think you wanted me to.” He looks at you, confused and a bit sorrowful.

“There is only one way to make a child.”

Gods he thinks you look so like a child when you stand there with such false assurance. It makes him feel wretched.

“You weeped the last time I took you to bed. I have been trying to give you time so that you might… recover?” The words don’t feel right to him. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”

“Lying with you caused me no feelings of importance.”

Cregan counts to ten in his head but only makes it to five. He then stands abruptly.

“You will watch your tone when you speak to me!” He says, fed up with your lack of decorum.

You gape at him like a fish. He went from so pitiful to angry so quickly.

“I have done all I can to make you comfortable, all I can to make you feel welcomed and at every turn, you insult me! You have spent your entire life as the spoilt daughter of the Queen and for that, I do not blame you but I can only be so lenient. You will no longer take liberties with how you speak to me. I am your husband and you will learn to treat me as such.” He breathes heavily after letting all his emotions go. “Even princesses don’t speak to their spouses in the way you speak to me.”

“I’m not your wife by choice. I didn’t want this.” You protest in justification of your own cruelty.

He scoffs. “And do you think I did?”

“You asked for my hand.”

“Her Grace offered me your hand.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“Is that truly what you think? Are you really so naive as to believe that? Everyone of our station marries for advantage. I am no different and neither are you.” Even when he shouted at you only moments ago, he never sounded as hateful as he does right now.

“And you’re happy with this standard?” You ask with level headed contemplation.

“Of course I’m not but it’s what is done.”

“It isn’t fair for you to fault me for wanting something more when you’re also unhappy with it… especially when you know it’s more difficult for women than men.” You desperately want him to understand you. You just want somebody to understand.

“We all make sacrifices for the people we love.” He says dutifully.

“I make the sacrifices while my brothers marry for love. How is that fair?”

“So you’re bitter? Prince Jacaerys will be king one day. That’s a much greater sacrifice than marrying for advantage.”

The tears prickle in your eyes. You should’ve known.

“At least he won’t be alone.”

You don’t want to argue anymore, or rather be scolded like a dumb child so you leave, striding back to your room.

You stare into the mirror when you arrive. Would your mother be disappointed by how disagreeable you are, how disobedient? Daemon wouldn’t. But you aren’t Daemon Targaryen. You’re just a girl, a girl that might ruin an alliance if you can’t make nice with your husband. Should you care? Your stepfather wouldn’t. Dragon riders don’t obey societal norms… but you do care… ever so slightly.

~~~

A voice at the door. Does he want to be let in only so he can say a hundred words that mean so little?

“Enter.”

Your husband, tall and strong walks into the room, reminding you of someone you used to know. He’s kind and brave like him.

“I should not have shouted at you. I just feel as though I’m not heard when I’m quiet but that is no justification.” He stares at the back of your head. You don’t turn to face him, looking out the window instead of at the mirror. This is your home now. He will become your home - he could become your home.

“If I walked out the door right now and never came back, would you try and stop me?” You aren’t angry about his shouting; you’re used to fire.

“No.”

“It would destroy the alliance. You could side with the Hightowers or simply just watch as they take my mother’s throne.”

“You could walk out that door, get on your dragon and never come back and I would keep my oath to the Queen.”

Gods he really is decent.

“Where would you go?” He asks like you haven’t just said you might run out on your marriage.

“Old Valyria.”

“You would die.”

“I would.”

“I’m not sorry for making things difficult for you but I acknowledge that I have.”

He smiles a bit woefully. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, princess.”

“Any woman in Westeros would consider herself lucky to be your wife.”

“Hmm… almost any it seems.”

Comment to be added to taglist

#lord husband #cregan stark fic #cregan fic #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan stark #hotd

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lady-ashfade · 7 months

Text

Day 2 Of Fictober

Poison

Yandere! Rhaenrya Targaryen x Daughter!Reader.

Ask: Can you write a platonic yandere mother Rhaenyra fic where she secretly gives her daughter non fatal doses of poison so that she is to sick to leave Dragonstone when its time for her to marry her betrothed.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Over protective, over bearing parent, being poisoned. Poison, family full of yanderes, daemon being included because it fits.

The day you were born Rhaenrya swore she could hear the gods sing in harmony together. Your cries sounded like heaven to her ears, the little girl who belong to her. Y/n, the first daughter of Rhaenrya Targaryen. “Beautiful,” she brushed the hair and blood off of your forehead and placed a kiss.

“My sweet girl.”

You had stoped crying when you came into contact with her skin and warmth, she was safe and familiar. Rhaenrya had blessed with a boy and she was grateful to have two beautiful children. But her first born had dark hair and fair light skin, you had her features of paler skin and silver hair. Your mother knew she needed to protect you from the darkness of the world and keep you innocent.

Each day you were at the queens side or in your own room. She would take her younger son to see you and get you both comfortable with one another. Jace couldn’t stop smiling and clapping when he saw you, he’s such a good older brother. As the years passed by you grew to need your mother or your brothers, being dependent on her. Where the princess went you weren’t far behind in a small dress and coping her.

But now it was the day she had dreaded for your whole life. You being betrothed to a lord far away and not with her.

“But mother, I need silver.” You huffed as you pressed the dress to your body. A smile on your cheeks as you swing yourself from side to side in the mirror. “Silver will match his clothes.” She cringed at your giggling and delighted to be married off, to leave her behind. A daughter should want to stay with her mother as long as she could, even cry when leaving her mother.

“You are stressing dearest,” her hands stopped your hands and looked at you through the mirror and smiled. “No need not to change for a man, not when you’re already perfection.” Her lips met your cheeks and you laugh at her sweetness and affection. You turned around and took her back into your arms and hugged her close.

“Only because you’re my mother and taught me every I know. I will make you proud, mother. This marriage will help our family with the whispers,” a hushed tone of the mention of rumors spreading around the realm of you and your brothers birth. “Promise.” Her chest loved how you smiled and wanted to help her, her sweet girl.

But it was foolish to think she’d let you go. And that’s why she needed to keep you by her side since you were so naive.

She watched as you laughed with your brothers at the table and ate your favorite meal. How could she let this go? As soon as you lifted your cup to your mouth she was ready for the moment to happen. Daemon by her side keeping a eye on you too as he help with the poison, a maester waiting outside the door. A few seconds later you began to cough and play it off for a few seconds until it became hard for you to breathe.

“Someone help her!” Rhaenrya acted the part of a scared mother and it wasn’t all a lie. Seeing you so panicked and scared, grabbing ahold of her as if it was the last time. Of course she hated it but this was for the best. No one would ever expected the woman who loved her children above all else to poison them. Daemon had a “search” for the person who did it, and a servant was kill for the crime. A innocent life was worthless to them when it came to you.

A few days later you awaken from your rest and saw your mother beside your bed as she hummed. “Mother?” You called out with a horse voice and she jumped up to take you in her arms. The relief spread on her face as she kissed your head repeatedly and whisper prayers to the gods. “I was so worried.” You held onto her but she got a cup and lifts it to your lips. The first thing was to clear your throat and get it back.

Sipping the drink you smile and lean back down, looking at her loving. “Please tell me I wasn’t out to long, Sir Roderick will be saddened at my lack of letters.” It went unnoticed that she gripped the sheets and a quick smirk that she turned into a smile. He will have to find another bride to have because you’re never leaving the castle.

“I’m sure you will recover soon.” The cup was set back down as she smiled at the bottom where a powder was seen. Rhaenrya kept you on a small amount of poison every week to keep you from getting around on your own or to long. Something to make your body weak without her help.

“Now rest up, my sweet girl.”

#yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #rhaenrya targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenrya targaryen x reader #yandere rhaenrya targaryen x reader #yandere rhaenrya targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon x reader #fictober23 #fictober event #fictober 2023

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just-aake · 1 month

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part XIV

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Warnings: angst, violence, blood, hurt/comfort, major injury

Words: 6283

In the courtyard of the Bishop manor, an arrow flies through the damp air, its trajectory slightly skewed as it lands off-center from the desired bullseye.

“You’re not accounting for the rain, Kate Bishop,” a voice remarks from nearby, the tone carrying a hint of amusement.

Drenched and disheartened, Kate hangs her head with a groan of frustration before trudging back towards the shelter of the small pavilion at the edge of the courtyard.

“I’m trying,” she mutters with a small pout. “It’s so much simpler without the weather working against me.”

Yelena, who was observing from under the shelter, pushes the plate of assorted pastries towards Kate.

“It takes practice. Now sit. Have a snack. It will make you feel better,” she suggests in her usual matter-of-fact tone.

Setting down her equipment nearby, Kate dries her hair with a previously prepared towel before joining Yelena at the table. She bites her lips lightly in contemplation, and then, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone, she begins to speak.

“You know, it’s been a while already. Maybe we should go over there and check on them.”

Yelena waves her hand in disagreement.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” she comments while reaching for a pastry. “If anything, they’re probably together right now, being all affectionate and in love with each other.”

She takes a bite and gestures pointedly, continuing.

“I mean, all that pent up tension between them has to spill over eventually.”

As she finishes off the treat, an upset expression crosses her face when she recalls the earlier encounter at Y/n's manor, and she slumps her cheek on her hand with a sigh.

"Plus, I don't think that snooty lord would let us in anyway,” she mutters dejectedly.

Hearing this, Kate frowns, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat in thought.

“It’s so strange that you were turned away. I didn’t think he was so strict with Y/n,” she remarks before shrugging. “Then again, maybe that's why she always cancels our plans whenever he's around.”

"It’s weird, right?” Yelena exclaims in question at the situation.

She waves another pastry towards Kate pointedly, continuing.

“I say the sooner Natasha marries Y/n and gets her away from that man, the better. He gives me a bad feeling," she finishes, shuddering.

Kate nods in agreement before plucking the pastry from the younger princess’ outstretched hand, a playful glint in her eye as she enjoys her stolen treat.

Meanwhile, Yelena gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest and feigning shock at her action.

Rolling her eyes, Kate tosses another pastry at Yelena, who catches it easily, before moving her attention to the courtyard.

Her canine runs excitedly through the rain, but just as he starts to jump in the muddy puddles, Kate decides to call out to him, trying to limit the mess he’ll eventually bring into the manor.

“Lucky, come here!”

Responding to his name, Lucky bounds towards her, his tail wagging eagerly, but at the last second, he veers toward Yelena who waves a treat in his direction.

Giving him the treat, Yelena affectionately pets him and playfully squishes his face, while speaking to him with mock seriousness.

"Isn’t that right, Lucky? Lord Dreykov is a big jerk, isn't he?"

Lucky barks happily, as if agreeing, but then, with a sudden shift of focus, his head turns away from her, and he dashes off towards Kate's manor.

Yelena’s eyes follow him in confusion before noticing Natasha striding purposefully in their direction, her expression a blend of determination and barely concealed frustration.

“Oh, she does not look happy,” Kate observes.

“Nope, definitely not,” Yelena agrees, adding. “Looks more murderous than in love.”

As she draws near, undeterred by Lucky's playful antics of circling her, Kate greets her cautiously.

“Hey, Natasha, how did it go?”

“We have a problem,” Natasha answers urgently, her hand pulling Yelena up from her seat as she speaks.

“Wha—hey!” Yelena protests in surprise, taken aback by the sudden movement.

Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Kate quickly rises to her feet, concern etched on her face as she reaches for her bow.

“Did something happen with Y/n?” she asks.

Before Natasha can respond, one of the Bishop’s house guards approaches the pavilion, interrupting their conversation.

“Shall I arrange for more pastries for the princesses?” the guard asks, prompting a confused look from Kate.

“What? No,” she replies. “We’re actually about to leave soon. Have someone prepare our horses for us at the front gates.”

Beside Natasha, Lucky's playful demeanor disappears, replaced by a low growl as he fixes an intense gaze and threatening stance at the guard.

Suspicion creeps into Natasha's expression as she eyes the guard warily before moving towards the pavilion's exit with Yelena in tow.

The guard matches her step, blocking their path with a slight bow of his head, though his expression remains emotionless.

“I'm afraid the weather is still unfavorable for any travels, Your Highnesses.”

At his declaration, Yelena lets out an amused chuckle, pulling herself from Natasha’s grip and crossing her arms.

“It’s just rain. We’ll be fine—!”

Her reassurance is cut short in surprise as Natasha swiftly knocks out the guard.

“What was that for?” Yelena asks in astonishment, bending down curiously to inspect the unconscious guard.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Natasha says, pulling her sister back to her feet. “Right now, we need to move before they find us.”

“Um…did you mean them?” Kate asks, pointing in the distance.

Across the courtyard, Lord Rumlow leads a band of armed men towards them, a self-assured smirk on his face.

Among the group are mercenaries bearing the symbol of the Hydra Den, along with the escaped prisoners and several prison guards who wear the same emotionless expression as the unconscious one on the ground.

Yelena hums in realization, studying the scene with narrowed eyes before leaning in closer to her sister to ask with a sigh, “I’m guessing this is part of the problem?”

“Yep,” Natasha replies bluntly, her jaws tightening as she assesses the situation.

Rumlow and his men swiftly surround them, effectively blocking any potential escape routes.

Even with the three of them, a full-on assault would be a challenging battle, not to mention it would consume a lot of time. Time that would be better spent on going to help you than dealing with this traitorous lord.

As if sensing their predicament, Rumlow raises his head arrogantly, and his smirk widens.

“You’re outnumbered, Romanov,” he taunts. “Surrender to me now, and I’ll consider killing you all swiftly.”

Kate scoffs in disbelief at his audacity and steps forward, hands on her hips.

“You’re the one who’s trespassing, Rumlow. If anything, you and your little friends here will be apprehended by my guards soon enough.”

“That won’t be happening,” a voice cuts in from the manor’s door.

Lady Eleanor Bishop, accompanied by more guards from her household also wearing emotionless expressions, carefully observes the scene before walking to Rumlow's side with a grave look.

Kate's eyes flit confusedly between her mother and Rumlow, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips.

“Mom, what...what are you doing?” she questions, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Above them, thunder rumbles ominously, echoing the emotional turmoil forming in the tense atmosphere.

Stepping cautiously, Yelena joins Kate’s side, her hand hesitantly landing on her shoulder in comfort.

“I don’t think she’s here to help, Kate.”

Kate shrugs off Yelena's touch, her gaze fixed on her mom in disbelief.

"No, that’s ridiculous. You’re not…we’re not traitors," she insists, her eyes pleading. "Right, mom?"

“Kate,” her mother begins with a heavy sigh, “You need to come with me. It’s too dangerous to be involved with those two anymore.”

Unable to believe what she’s hearing, Kate furrows her brows in anger and confusion.

“How can you say that?” she exclaims in outrage. “Our family has been loyal to the Romanovs for generations, and now you want to betray them…for this guy.”

Her voice lowers into a small whisper as she looks at her mom with a betrayed expression.

“How could you?”

Rather than shame, a look of anger and anguish forms on her mother’s face.

“Because Kate…despite all we’ve done, in the end, we are the ones who lose more. Your father died protecting the royal family,” she reminds her, her voice laced with pain. “And now you want to become a knight too.”

Her gaze then hardens with a glare as she turns to look at Yelena and Natasha.

“I had hoped you would’ve given up by now, but the princesses keep encouraging you,” she accuses, resentment flashing in her eyes.

“They didn’t force me to become a knight,” Kate defends, clenching a hand to her chest. “That was my choice!”

With a firm shake of her head, her mother’s expression becomes serious and resolute as she makes her decision clear.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she states firmly, leaving no room for argument in her tone. “You'll realize eventually that this is for your own good. I won't allow my family to risk their lives any longer. Especially not for those two.”

Kate recoils at her mother’s words, her eyes widening in disbelief and hurt.

Unsure of what to do next, she instinctively turns to the other person in her life whom she trusts.

Yelena meets her gaze with a small, pained smile, then rubs her neck nervously — a familiar gesture that Kate recognizes as a sign of her discomfort.

“I told you she never liked me,” Yelena says lightly in a half-joking manner before adopting a more serious tone and giving her a reassuring nod, “It's alright, Kate. Whatever decision you make, I'll support you. This doesn’t have to be your fight.”

Kate’s frown deepens at Yelena’s last words, and her hand instinctively reaches out towards the younger princess.

“Enough!” Eleanor declares, commanding, “Come here, Kate.”

Ignoring her mother's demand, Kate fixes her gaze on Yelena for a moment longer before turning back to look at her mother.

With a deep breath, she takes a defiant step closer to Yelena, shaking her head.

“No,” Kate asserts firmly. “These are my friends.”

Determined and resolute in her decision, she tightens her grip on her bow, staring unwaveringly at her mother.

“I chose to become a knight to protect them. And that's what I’m going to do.”

Her mother stands frozen, stunned at her declaration, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly in a mixture of anger and concern.

The tense silence is suddenly broken by a slow mocking clap as Rumlow steps forward.

“Well, it sounds like she’s made her choice,” he declares, pushing Lady Eleanor back and gesturing to the Bishop guards to restrain her. They follow his silent command mindlessly, taking her arms.

“What are you doing? This is not part of our deal!” Eleanor exclaims in alarm as she struggles in the grips of her own guards.

Rumlow raises a brow at her before declaring, “You gave me your guards to be tested and controlled for my bidding, and I agreed that I would spare you and your daughter.”

Gesturing back to the three of them, he continues, “Now, if she wants to die with them, then let her. It’s not like anyone ever expected her to amount to anyth—!”

Rumlow abruptly stops and ducks, dodging an incoming plate thrown at him.

It shatters on the ground behind him, and he quickly straightens from his cowering position, pointing in outrage at the culprit.

“You insolent little…!”

Yelena steps forward with another plate in her hand, a subtle calm anger in her expression as she confronts him.

“What? You didn’t learn your lesson when I beat you during the tournament,” she taunts. “Finish that sentence, and I’ll remind you how hard I can hit,” she threatens, her hand preparing to throw the other plate.

Rumlow reacts swiftly, pulling one of his men in front of him, using their body like a shield.

Before Yelena can throw the plate, Natasha’s arm appears in front of her in a stopping gesture.

With a determined step forward, Natasha addresses him, intending to finish this as quickly as possible.

“You want the throne, Rumlow?” she challenges, her voice steady and commanding. “Then let’s settle this once and for all, just you and me.”

As expected, at her direct challenge to him, Rumlow’s eyes subtly dart around to look at his men, sensing the pressure of their expectant expressions.

With a forced clearing of his throat and an arrogant smirk, he pushes aside his human shield, standing tall before drawing his sword with an exaggerated flourish.

“Very well, Your Highness,” he answers, punctuating his words with a mocking bow before pointing his sword at her.

The steady patter of the rain on the ground echoes in the silence of the tense atmosphere filled with anticipation as an open space is created for the duel, and everyone around the two waits with bated breath for the fight to begin.

With a loud growl, Rumlow charges first, lunging with an onslaught of violent swings at Natasha.

The clash of steel fills the air as Natasha gracefully blocks and dodges every one of his attacks while studying his movements for weaknesses.

Soon, frustration and anger begin to appear on Rumlow’s face when none of his strikes land as intended.

On one particularly powerful swing, Natasha blocks it, but instead of recoiling, Rumlow keeps the pressure, pushing forward against her blade.

“You’re so weak!” he spits out with contempt. “What does Y/n even see in you?!”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed at his words, already knowing that he was just trying to provoke her, but still, her teeth clenched with silent fury at the audacity of him to even speak your name.

He intensifies the pressure, pushing her sword closer to her chest with each angry word.

“It’s all your fault! Always in the way, keeping her from me!” he sneers. “If it weren’t for you, she would’ve already belonged to me!”

Suddenly withdrawing his pressure, Rumlow pulls out a hidden dagger and swipes at Natasha from close range. Reacting swiftly, she twists out of the way to a safer distance, regaining her balance.

Despite her quick reaction, Natasha still feels a slight sting on her arm, and glancing down, she sees the small cut where his blade grazed her.

“You never were an honorable fighter, Rumlow,” she remarks pointedly before giving him a determined glare. “And you’re definitely no leader.”

Taking the initiative, Natasha lunges forward with calculated and precise attacks, forcing Rumlow to take a defensive position.

Frustration grows in his expression as he struggles to fend off her advance.

Seeing his wavering confidence and panic, Natasha continues her relentless attacks and raises her voice louder for the others to hear, intending to put some doubts in their minds about following someone like him.

“You never care about anyone but yourself. Do they know that you’ll just dispose of them once you’re finished using them, just like how you did with Lady Eleanor?”

“Shut up!” Rumlow grits out angrily, countering with a wide arching swing that Natasha easily ducks under, side-stepping behind him to deliver a hard kick to his side.

He stumbles a couple of steps from the impact but quickly recovers, regaining his balance.

In the corner of her eyes, Natasha can see the hesitation in some of his men’s expressions as they begin to whisper among themselves.

She returns her focus to the fight, determined to finish this quickly so that she can get to you.

Natasha smoothly parries the next strike that Rumlow swings her way, her grip tightening as she remembers what he said earlier about you.

“And Y/n,” her voice softens at your name, before giving him a harsh glare and punctuating each of her next words with increasingly powerful swings.

“She’s many things—amazing, wonderful things—but she does not belong to you!

With a final, thunderous blow, Natasha sends Rumlow crashing to the ground, his sword clattering from his grasp as he falls to his knees before her.

“And she is worth more than anything you ever deserve,” she declares, her voice ringing out with unwavering conviction as she stands over him.

With a burning glare, Rumlow sneers at her angrily, his hands clenching the wet ground at his clear loss.

“Give up and yield, Rumlow. You’re not going to win this,” Natasha says, offering him one last chance to surrender.

“Go to hell, Romanov,” he spits venomously at her in refusal.

Recognizing that he won’t accept her offer, Natasha prepares to deliver the finishing blow when a sudden movement catches her attention, prompting her to pivot and block the incoming attack from one of the controlled prison guards who had come to Rumlow's aid.

She deflects their swing and pushes them away before backing to a safe distance.

An arrow streaks past her, piercing another guard who attempts to pursue her, knocking them to the ground.

“Of course, he would cheat,” Yelena remarks as she and Kate join Natasha’s side, weapons drawn and ready to keep the others at bay.

Some of Rumlow’s men move to help him up from the ground, but he angrily shakes them off, waving his hands wildly in frustration.

“Get off of me!” he barks, his face flushed with rage as he grabs someone nearby by their collar, shaking them violently. “Well?! What are you all staring at?”

He shoves them forward, shouting, “Kill them!”

Several of the men exchange hesitant glances before slowly advancing toward the three of them, weapons raised for battle.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Kate asks, moving closer to stand back to back with the two princesses.

“We fight,” Natasha responds, tightening her grip on her sword.

“That’s a terrible plan,” Yelena says with a sigh.

“Do you have a better one?” Natasha counters.

Before Yelena can respond with a sarcastic comment, a strong wave of energy, tinged with red, pushes the incoming assailants back, knocking most of them off balance and causing them to topple against each other.

Though the unknown force wasn’t directed at them, its widespread effect was still powerful enough to make Natasha’s feet slide against the ground, pushing them all back slightly.

Regaining her footing, Natasha looks towards the source, and to her surprise, she sees Wanda standing at the manor’s door, breathing heavily as she leans against the frame for support.

Her hand is still outstretched towards Rumlow’s men, the tips of her fingers swirling with remnants of the red energy, matching the glow in her eyes.

“You!” Rumlow exclaims, stumbling upright, his eyes crazed with vengeance as he points in realization at Wanda. “You’re that disrespectful little servant!”

A sinister grin forms on his face as he points his sword at her.

“You’re going to pay for how you treated me, and this time, Y/n is not here to protect you now.”

At his words, Wanda rolls her eyes and scoffs in disbelief, her expression shifting into concentrated fury and annoyance as she straightens.

She directs her hands at him, and Rumlow’s advance towards her freezes in place as red energy surrounds him.

“You insufferable idiot,” Wanda says with an angry glare before raising her hands. Rumlow’s body follows her movement, rising from the ground.

A panicked and struggling expression appears on his face as he stares at her in shock.

Wanda gives him a pointed look, ensuring that he understands her next words, “She’s the only reason why I didn’t do this to you before.”

With a flick of her wrist, she sends him flying across the courtyard, smashing into the wooden targets. The frames collapse around him as he remains unconscious and unmoving under the pile of debris.

A tense silence envelops the courtyard before slowly, fearful murmurs begin to rise from some of the recovering men at what they had just witnessed.

“W-witch! She’s a witch!” one of them cries out, his voice trembling with fear.

Those who were not knocked unconscious from the initial blast join in, their fearful shouts filling the air as they scramble and push at each other to run away.

Only when the remaining enemies have retreated does Wanda finally collapse to her knees, her breath coming out tiredly as the red glow in her eyes fades and the red mist around her hands disappears.

Footsteps rush to her side, and she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“That was amazing!” Kate’s awed voice praises before noticing Wanda's exhausted expression. Her voice lowers with concern as she bends down closer and asks, “Wait, are you okay?”

Wanda raises her hand in reassurance, though her breathing is still tired and unsteady.

“I’m fine, just…not used to doing so much in such a short time…I just need a minute, and I’ll be okay.”

“Hey, take your time. Breathe,” Natasha directs, kneeling beside her and patting her back gently in comfort.

Wanda shakes her head quickly in refusal.

“No, I can’t. Pietro’s hurt…he needs help.”

“I’ll go get someone,” Kate says, standing up urgently to go retrieve the physician in the manor.

“Take Lucky with you, and don’t trust anyone that he doesn’t,” Natasha instructs her. “We don’t know who else could be under Rumlow's control.”

Kate nods grimly in understanding, whistling to call Lucky to follow her as she rushes into the manor.

Yelena steps up closer to them, her brows furrowing as she comes to a realization.

“Wait, if you’re here, and Pietro’s hurt. Then where’s Y/n?” she asks, knowing how much you care for the twins.

Wanda looks down, hanging her head before replying, her voice filled with regret.

“Dreykov has her.”

Natasha’s eyes widen, feeling her blood run cold at the information. She stands quickly in alarm.

“We need to go,” she says urgently.

Wanda nods in agreement and attempts to stand too, but she stumbles on her feet.

Yelena catches her, providing support to keep her upright, but it’s obvious that Wanda’s energy still has not returned, unfit for further travel at the moment.

Yelena meets Natasha’s conflicted eyes and gives her a reassuring nod.

“Go,” she tells her, “We’ll follow as soon as we can.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Riding through the pouring rain, Natasha’s mind fills with worry for you. The unnerving silence and emptiness of your manor’s grounds do nothing to soothe her racing thoughts.

If Dreykov had hurt you again, she was determined to make him pay, regardless of the consequences.

Rushing through your manor’s entrance, Natasha heads straight towards your wing. However, just as she’s about to run up the stairs to your room, your voice calls out from behind.

“Natasha!”

She stops and turns around, seeing you step out from the shadows toward her.

Without hesitation, Natasha moves quickly in front of you, her hand cradling your face as she examines you.

Your expression appears normal and calm, showing no signs of pain or panic, and it doesn't look like you are injured.

Still, Natasha asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Everything’s fine,” you reassure her, taking her hands in yours and holding them between your bodies.

Something was wrong, Natasha realizes.

Despite your reassurance, an uneasy feeling washed over her the moment you touched her.

She stares down intently at your clasped hands, trying to figure out this unsettling feeling within her heart.

You tighten your grasp on her hands to get her attention, prompting her to return her gaze to yours.

Concern appears on your face as you observe her, while your thumb moves in a soothing caress along the back of her hand.

“You’re freezing, Natasha. Let’s go warm you up.”

You attempt to pull her in the direction of the stairs, but Natasha stands firm and unmoving, causing you to turn back around and tilt your head at her in question.

Natasha’s eyes observe your face carefully before glancing down again at your hand in hers.

Realizing that she is not going to follow, you move back to her.

“Come on, Natasha," you call, your voice lowering as you step even closer, almost pressing against her.

Natasha's eyes follow your actions suspiciously as your hands slide up her front to rest on her shoulders.

"We need to get you out of these wet clothes soon, or else you'll catch a cold. I can draw you a nice warm bath, and then maybe after…,” you continue, leaning in to whisper next to her ear, “…we can spend the remainder of the night together.”

Your suggestion hangs heavy in the air between the two of you for a moment before Natasha lets out a shaky breath.

Shaking her head, she pushes you away gently, holding your shoulders at arm's length as she meets your eyes with a sad expression.

“Wanda said that Pietro was hurt,” she reminds you.

“Don’t worry about him,” you reply, your tone filled with indifference.

The smile that remains on your face and your words confirm what she now realizes is wrong.

Natasha shuts her eyes briefly, her heart heavy at the painful realization. Hanging her head, she takes a deep breath to gather her resolve to confront you.

Your hands gently cradle her cheeks, coaxing her eyes back to meet your gaze, and you give her your usual soft smile.

“Hey,” you whisper. “Just be here with me.”

Your touch is delicate as you brush back strands of her wet hair from her face, a familiar gesture that she is used to from you.

Truthfully, Natasha wants nothing more than to fulfill that request of yours, but when she looks into your eyes, she can’t seem to find any of your warmth in them.

Taking a steady breath, Natasha grabs the back of your hand, halting its movement. She then presses a soft kiss to your palm before giving you a sad look.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

You chuckle, giving her a curious look.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“That you have to go through this pain again,” Natasha replies with regret.

Your expression remains unchanged, a reassuring yet impassive smile gracing your lips.

Natasha sighs sadly, releasing your hand and letting it fall to your side.

“I know this isn’t you, Y/n,” she reveals.

Your smile falters at her words, and your eyes search her face, seeking something before coming to a realization.

Twisting your lips into a disappointed pout, your fingers raise to toy with her collar.

“You could’ve just played along and had a good time with me, Natasha,” you say teasingly before resting your hand above her heart with a raised brow. “You know, before you have to die.”

Natasha presses her lips into a thin line, deepening her frown at your words.

“Is that what he told you to do?” she asks, anger rising at Dreykov. “Seduce me and then kill me after?”

You shrug indifferently, as if unconcerned about the implications of what you were about to be forced to do against your will.

“Well, it was either you or Rumlow, without the killing for him, of course,” you explain casually.

Natasha clenches her fist, seething at the thought of what would’ve happened had she not been the one to come for you first. She’s going to make Dreykov pay for controlling you like this.

“Is that all?” she asks calmly, swallowing her anger so it’s not directed at you.

“No,” you shake your head, giving her a pitying smile.

The cold, uncaring expression looks foreign on your face as you stare at her.

“You see, before I kill you, I was going to tell you the truth.”

You wrap your arms around the back of her neck and pull her closer. Instinctively, Natasha’s hand falls on your waist at the action.

However, the tender embrace brings no warmth or comfort to soothe your cutting words that follow.

“I never believed in you, Natasha,” you begin, your tone icy and ruthless. “You were never going to be a good queen, and it was delusional of you to ever think you could erase all the pain that your family caused.”

Natasha stays silent, letting you speak, as she keeps your gaze with a sad, understanding expression.

Your eyes narrow slightly at not getting the reaction that you expected. With a determined and cold look, you continue, “The truth is…”

You bring your lips closer to whisper the next part in her ear.

“…I've always hated you, Natasha.”

“No, you don’t.”

Your head snaps back in surprise at her immediate response, looking at her face in confusion before a huff of disbelief escapes you.

“There you go again," you say, rolling your eyes. "Thinking you know everything about me.”

Natasha can’t help but chuckle at the statement. She’s been wanting to know everything about you from the moment she met you.

Meeting your eyes with unwavering trust and certainty, Natasha responds confidently.

“You don't want to hurt me.”

There’s an unamused expression on your face now as you glare at her.

“And what makes you so sure?” you ask her.

“Because…” Natasha begins, reaching up to hold your face delicately in her hand. Her thumb moves gently across your cheek to brush away the stray tear that falls from your eye.

“…that's what you told me,” she finishes with a soft smile.

Your expression shifts abruptly, a whirlwind of emotions crossing your face in a split second. First shock, then a brief conflict, then a hard glare.

With a forceful shove, you push Natasha away, catching her off guard. She stumbles backward at your action, landing against the stairs.

Before she can recover, you move swiftly, straddling her and pinning her down as your hand descends towards her, a glint of steel catching the light as you swing the dagger.

Reacting with instinctive speed, Natasha catches your hand, halting its descent, just as the tip of the blade presses lightly at the space above her heart.

Under different circumstances, she would have complimented your skill in knocking her off guard to deliver a finishing blow.

However, from this position, the moonlight of the now clear night sky shines through the large glass windows, casting a soft glow over your features, and Natasha can't help but be captivated by the sight instead, momentarily forgetting her perilous situation.

She knows she should flip your positions and disarm you at some point, but she finds herself unable to break your gaze.

That's when she catches a glimpse of your usual warmth flashing in your eyes, where unshed tears threaten to fall.

Natasha always believed that you are the strongest person she knows, and this time is no different.

Slowly, her grip on your hands loosens, and as she expected, the blade remains in place, suspended just above her heart.

Instead of escaping, Natasha's hand moves to cup your cheek, her touch gentle and reverent.

At that moment, only one thought fills her mind as she gazes up at you, and with a soft exhale, Natasha finally says the words that she's been wanting to tell you.

“I love you, Y/n.”

At her breathless confession, your brows knit together in confusion as a series of conflicting emotions cross your face.

For a moment, there's only silence, broken only by the faint trembling of the dagger in your hand.

Then, with a final, decisive gesture, it slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground.

Immediately, you collapse against Natasha, wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug. A mixture of relief and disbelief fills your voice as your hand lightly hits her shoulder in reprimand.

“You’re unbelievable,” you murmur exasperatedly into the curve of her neck. “That’s what you say when I hold a knife to you?”

Her response is a soft chuckle, tinged with relief and amusement. She returns your embrace, holding you tightly, her next words muffled against your shoulder.

"It's the only thing that came to mind."

You huff at her reply, choosing to not comment further as your arms instinctively pull her closer.

In the safety of her embrace, you try to shake off the lingering sensation of feeling trapped within your mind, recalling the hurtful words you uttered to her.

Before you can gather your thoughts to apologize, a disdainful groan interrupts the fragile peace, drawing both of your attention upwards.

At the top of the staircase, Dreykov sneers down at the two of you.

"Pathetic," he spits out, shaking his head in disgust.

With a motion of his hand, he signals his guards, who materialize from the shadows and advance towards you both.

Reacting swiftly, Natasha pulls herself upright, positioning herself protectively in front of you.

As his guards launch coordinated attacks, Natasha moves with graceful precision, evading their strikes effortlessly.

With a powerful kick, she dispatches one assailant before engaging the other in a one-on-one confrontation.

Confident in her ability to handle them, you turn your attention back to Dreykov, only to see him attempting to flee.

However, he suddenly stops in his tracks, his path blocked by the unexpected appearance of Bucky.

Realizing it was just the old captain standing in his way, Dreykov sneers as he tries to push past him dismissively.

“Don’t just stand there. Go kill her—!”

His command is cut off abruptly as Bucky's hand closes around his throat before forcing him to the edge of the staircase.

Dreykov gasps for breath, a look of surprise crossing his face as he struggles against Bucky's tightening grip.

With one hand clawing at Bucky's hold, his other reaches into his pocket, pulling out an intricate container.

Black powder falls from one of the ends, creating a pile on the floor, as Dreykov’s finger fumbles for the latch at the top.

Spotting the danger and recognizing the substance, you call out a warning to Bucky.

"Watch out!"

Just as your words echo through the tense air, Dreykov flicks open the latch on the container, igniting a spark. With a swift motion, he hurls it to the ground, triggering an explosion of blinding light and billowing smoke.

Amidst the chaos, the clamor of bodies tumbling down the stairs reverberates through the haze, but the thick smoke obscures your vision, disorienting you as you struggle to make sense of the situation.

Coughing and gasping for air amidst the choking fumes, you stagger blindly in search of Natasha.

Your foot collides with something solid, and upon closer inspection, you realize it's the unconscious body of one of the guards, with another lying nearby.

A wave of relief washes over you at the realization that Natasha had won.

However, your relief is short-lived as the sound of steel scraping against the ground sends a shiver down your spine.

"Useless failures," Dreykov's voice echoes through the smoke, his position hidden in the swirling haze.

Frantically searching your surroundings, you strain to pinpoint his location, but the dense smoke obscures your senses.

"Y/n!" Natasha's urgent voice breaks through, sounding closer, and you immediately move towards her voice before finally spotting her silhouette in the distance.

As you go to approach her, another figure emerges swiftly from the shadows behind her, the glint of steel flashing through the smoke.

Without hesitation, you rush forward, pushing Natasha out of the way.

In the next instant, searing pain flares in your abdomen as the dagger plunges into you instead.

Dreykov's eyes widen in surprise at your unexpected presence before twisting in anger.

Ignoring the agony coursing through your body, you meet his gaze with a steely glare of defiance.

"I told you,” you utter through gritted teeth. “I'll never let you hurt her."

Summoning all your remaining strength, you deliver a powerful punch to Dreykov’s face, sending him crashing to the ground with a satisfying thud.

Gradually, the smoke begins to disperse, revealing Natasha on the ground nearby, her wide-eyed gaze locks onto you before drifting down to the blade still embedded in you, comprehension dawning on her features of what you had just done.

With each labored breath, you feel your strength waning from the injury.

Natasha's panicked voice pierces through the ringing in your ear, calling out your name in desperation.

Her hands catch you as your legs finally give way, her warmth enveloping you even as a coldness creeps into your bones.

Struggling to stay conscious, you gaze up at her, your vision blurring at the edges. Her lips move, but the words are now lost to you in the haze of pain.

Thankfully, however, you can still feel Natasha's gentle touch cradling your cheek, mirroring the tender gesture from earlier.

You regain a little energy as you remember that moment of her confession.

That’s right, you realize. Natasha has fulfilled her part of the promise to discuss your feelings, and now, here you are, leaving her without a response.

Determined to convey your feelings, you muster every ounce of willpower to utter her name, but a metallic taste floods your mouth, and you realize with grim understanding that you may not have much time left.

You must have succeeded in calling her though since her eyes immediately move from your wound to lock onto yours with fear.

Unfortunately, that's when black spots start to cloud your vision of her, and you find yourself losing the strength to speak any further. Despite your efforts, you feel yourself slipping away, the edges of consciousness fading.

As you slowly drift into darkness, the rapid rhythm of Natasha's heartbeat echoes against you, a comforting reminder that she's still alive and safe.

However, there is a pang of regret lingering in your heart that you weren’t able to speak the remainder of your words to her. You really wished you had a chance to express your feelings before you go.

To let her know how much you loved her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for staying so long with this story! There is one more part left and that will be the final one for this series.

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin, @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson, @automaticdinosaurtaco, @jono723, @mousetheorist, @tofu9162, @natsbiggestfan1, @iheartjohansson, @nothanksbye07, @midastouch013

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

Note

hi! will you write an aegon x reader imagine in which they are married out of love. and after she gives birth, alicent (or otto idk) requests to see her child like she did to rhaenyra. like what would aegon do to see his wife in pain and how would he react? thank you!

Ugh, I live for this type of angst!!! I reckon Aegon would be so fucking pisssssed. How dare they try to get you to lift a finger, let alone stand after birthing his child!!!! sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy xx

Our Child.

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,948.

WARNINGS: swearing, fluff, angst, Dad!Aegon, mentions of pregnancy/birth, mentions of bullying.

A/N - I apologise for getting carried away with the beginning lmao, but I felt the need to lay some background, so don't mind me. hope you enjoy!

Within this realm, gossip and scepticism was not unfamiliar territory. Especially regarding the livelihood and innocence of maidens such as yourself, whispers were constant, back and forth, the ongoing judgement would never be silenced although, you'd grown ignorant to. It did not matter, many accused you of being a whore, many expressed their disgust over hearing your so-called promiscuous nature, and many had ridiculed your poor upbringing.

"Surely, she's bedded men before, and the Prince seems to not mind? I heard she was betrothed to a farmer in the North, although ran away."

"Aegon is no saint either... Although he is a man, and men have needs."

"What would the Prince want with someone of her kind? She has nothing to offer, not even a dowry, and he is to be King."

The scrutiny was constant, and Aegon knew at times, no matter how well you masked it, that the words stung. He knew your story, having allowed him and granting him the time to really get to know you, Aegon had pestered you for so long, he listened and knew your truth.

The rest were all lies, deceit and gossip, for many lords had intended for their own daughters to wed the King to be.

"The realm have already made up their minds, Aegon, I stand no chance against them."

Aegon did not care. He loved you undeniably, and whatever he saw in you, made him a better man.

"They can answer to me, I'd like to hear their judgement directly."

It was true, no one dared to question Aegon's intentions with you, not at least in front of him. First off, he had a dragon. Secondly, a terribly, quick temper, the notorious Targaryen temper... The two fused well together depending on who asked.

Overtime, just as you always had, the scrutiny of the high class and council did not matter to you, for it was the least of your concerns.

Although, it bothered you greatly that his mother, Queen Alicent, had tuned into such gossip and determined herself that you unworthy.

She did not completely ignore your presence in the castle, although she was cold. She never warmed unto you like she did with other high-borne ladies, nor did she give you the chance to speak or tell your truth. Her mind was made.

Alicent was certain that you had other intentions with her son, that you'd wanted riches, gold, money, anything to help redeem your family's status in society. She assumed that you would use the Crown in all its glory, all through Aegon.

"I see you as you are, Y/N. Aegon may think with his cock when it comes to you, although I see right through you," Her words cut sharp as Valyrian blade, left you defeated and speechless.

Aegon knew of this, for he could tell how quickly your mood had shifted. He knew of his mother's sour attitude towards you, for she'd plead with him many times to let you go, even proposing the idea of offering you money in return that you leave King's Landing for good.

In despite of the adversity, Aegon held his ground, for one of the first times in his life. He remained with you, by your side relentlessly, and defended your honour. He often returned to your chambers tiresome of the repetitive quarrelling with his mother about you, and yet he did not intend to stop, until she'd accepted you. In time, he had asked for your hand, wedding you in a private ceremony, upholding his Valyrian heritage, and not before long, you were with child, Aegon's child and his rightful heir.

****

The birthing was difficult to say the least, going on for a fair few hours in the night, right until sunlight could be seen in the horizon. The instant cry of your newborn babe filled the room, and much to your relief, caused you to beam with a smile on your face, as you embraced the small bub in your arms.

"A boy, your Grace. Kicking like a goat," The experienced midwife exclaimed, as she tended to the sweat dripping on your face, and the blood marked on your cheeks, from kissing the babe, trying to make you somewhat decent if Aegon was to return.

Aegon although, desperate to be with you, was caught in a council meeting. Much to his dismay, his abrupt marriage to you left many lords in uproar as his family had promised them the opportunities for their daughters to meet the young Prince, determined to see if he'd take a liking to one of the them. Many now furious at the Crown, refusing to pay taxes and levies.

As you cradled the baby in your arms, enamoured by the bundle of joy, little shrouds of hair on his head, parallel to his father's Targaryen heritage, his nose even a copy of Aegon's. It was his little twin. Trying to take your son's presence all in, was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the door, jolting your attention towards the entrance. Your heart raced with excitement, as you'd relished in the image of Aegon rushing through to your bedside, meeting his newborn son for the first moment ever.

Much to your disappointment it was a knight, although, one that you'd grown familiar to seeing in the Queen's company.

"Apologies to bother you, your Grace. Although, Queen Alicent wishes to see you and the babe at this very moment."

A puzzled look drenched your face, as you scanned the faces of the midwives and maester present during your birth, each of them sharing a discerning look, some quickly looking to their shuffling feet, trying to seem busy.

"Right now?" You stuttered, holding your newborn tightly instinctively.

The knight merely nodded, as though hesitant to giving such orders considering the ordeal you'd endured just mere minutes ago.

Now you'd grown annoyed, you gestured for one of the midwives to hold your dear son, who continued to wail as he left your arms, whilst the others helped you to your feet, blood drenched clothes, pooling down your legs as you gained steadiness.

You couldn't stand by yourself, your head whirling and your belly and thighs aching in a dull pain, sudden movements and long strides caused sharp pains to bellow your lower back and hips, cramping your muscles. It was pain you'd never felt like before.

The maester attempted to convince you of taking milk of the poppy for the walk, although short, would be tormenting with the stairs you had to conquer.

Although, milk of the poppy made you feel weaker, less conscious. You did not want to wish dropping the babe in your arms, nor be less alert for Alicent.

The midwives carefully donned you in a clean, silk gown, attempting to make you as decent and proper as possible, for people began to bustle through the castle now. Hearing their conversations and steps outside the door, for it was morning and you'd grown familiar to its routine.

"Y/N dearest, perhaps we can send a message to the Queen that your condition does not allow for you to travel currently-" The maester pitied.

"No, it is fine. If this is what the Queen wants, this is what she shall get."

The midwife that had held your son, returned him to your arms, as the knight helped to guide you out, holding out his armoured arm as you gripped it tightly for support. Thankfully, he did not rush you, for he could see how slow and careful you were taking your steps.

Some lords and ladies passing by would congratulate you, whilst others remained ignorant to your presence, and some in pure shock that you were travelling in such a state.

Their whispers again, filled the morning air, although before reaching the steps, you'd taken a glance at your newborn son, snug in his blankets. Again, the same, warm smile gleamed on your face as you watched him, before a sharp pain pierced through your lower abdomen. Your grip on the knight tensed and he knew immediately, questioning if you wished to turn back.

"No-No, let's just fucking go."

As you took the first, agonising step up, a familiar voice yelled out your name. Slowly turning back, your body straining, resisting all the physical movement, you could see Aegon down the other side of the corridor, rushing past as he reached your side.

"What's the meaning of this, where are you going in such a state?"

He kept his focus on you, oblivious to the babe in your arms, as one hand massaged your back, whilst the other held your arm for support, as you began to cower in pain.

"Ughh-Y-Your mother, wanted t-to see the babe, now."

You stuttered, your voice trembling as the pain worsened the more you remained on your feet, becoming breathless by the second.

As you mentioned the babe, Aegon looked down, his eyes meeting his newborn son, a cherished look on his face appeared for a split second, before he realised the situation. His eyes darted towards the knight and commanded that he tell his mother, "That would not be wise, if she so wishes to see the babe, she can come down herself."

You reassured the knight that you were fine, as Aegon took his place by your side, turning you back around to your chambers, the midwives still present as they remained cleaning the bloody scene, were relieved to see you return. They all helped you back down cautiously, propping pillows behind your back for support, even preparing a small cup of milk of the poppy, now that you were rested in bed.

"What were you thinking Y/N? Don't you ever think that you need to prove yourself like that, my mother can answer to me."

"I-I don't know, Aegon. She is the Queen, a-and I thought... I am sorry husband."

Aegon had been pacing himself up and down the room, as the midwives left to give you both peace and privacy, shaking and rubbing his head. Out of fury, he slammed his fist against the wooden post of the bed railing, before calming himself. Seating himself down by your side, as he ran his fingers through his short, tussled platinum hair. A low sigh escaping his mouth, as he exchanged a worried look on his face, your hand reaching over to hold his reddened knuckles, as your thumb grazed the small, fresh cut.

"You-You my dearest, need not to apologise, you did nothing wrong. I just cannot fathom how my mother think it okay to torment you like that."

"I-I do not know, Aegon. But rest assured, our son is happy and healthy, come-"

You pulled his fingers, beckoning to come closer, as you pulled down the cover on your son's little face, despite all the mayhem that ensued following his birth, he remained quiet and slept. Unphased by the drama of his presence, he was your calm before the storm.

"He's beautiful isn't he? Our child." You softly whisper, as you looked up from the babe to Aegon, and back down again, gently cradling him in your arms.

Aegon's arm wrapped beneath yours, as his free hand, a finger gently grazed over his son's nose, dotting it. Helplessly, a smile beamed up on his face, as his son cooed against his father's touch.

"As angelic as his mother is." He uttered, before resting his head against your shoulder.

"She will be dealt with, Y/N. Rest assured, I will speak with her and it will be the last time we speak of this matter again. She did not deem me fit to be King before, she will now."

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfic requests #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon imagine #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #king aegon ii targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #alicent hightower

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bro-atz · 3 months

Text

good knight [bro's 500 — san]

[fake relationship/forbidden love, smut, royal!au, knight!san/princess!reader]

requested by: @k-hotchoisan + 🍪

word count: 4.7k

content: smut, a lot of sexual tension... like a lot a lot, UNPROTECTED SEX (PLS WRAP UP IRL), slight breeding kink, completely consensual!

author's note: both aubs and cookie anon had really similar ideas so i decided to combine them! also, i went way too hard w this piece... it's supposed to be a drabble idk what happened 😭 the things i do for san ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“San, you have to help me. Please,” you begged the knight.

You were standing with him in the Great Hall, not a single other soul around you. The knights had returned from their daily rounds, and San was getting ready to head back to his quarters when you stopped him. He was the only one in the entire castle that you could trust to help you with your vision, and you hoped that if you begged enough, he would follow through and help you out.

“Princess, what you’re asking of me is too much of an encumber. There’s no way I could fulfill such a thing,” San said quietly.

“San, you’re the only one who can do this for me. You need to do it.”

“What about—”

“I’ve already considered all of the other possibilities!” you interrupted him. “I thought everything through, and the only thing I can think of is for you to take me to this stupid ball and present yourself as my lover. Please, please, please San!”

“Your highness,” San sighed softly. “I can only do so much.”

“San, please… I don’t know what else to do, and if I tell my father that I don’t want to marry the prince, then he’ll never let me step foot outside of the castle until the day of the wedding. Plus! Plus, he trusts you so much, and I don’t know who else he would listen to that would also be able to help me, and I just—”

You covered your mouth when you felt tears well up in your eyes, stifling a sob. San immediately reacted by cupping your face and drying the tears from the corners of your eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

“Princess, don’t cry,” San said, his lips nearly pulling into a painful frown. “I’ll… I’ll talk to the king, okay?”

You nodded and mouthed a small thank you to the man before he turned on his heel to go talk to the king.

“I really don’t see the need for you to go, San,” the king said gruffly. “Your job is to protect the kingdom.”

“Isn’t the princess part of the kingdom?” San pointed out.

“Well, yes… But, still. I don’t see why you need to go.”

“Your highness, your daughter is a beautiful you lady, and if you send her to this ball all alone, lord knows what’ll happen to her,” San started, hoping that scaring the king would work as a tactic since you were counting on him, after all.

“The prince will be there! She’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but what about to and from the ball? The prince won’t be able to pick her up or drop her off, and I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t trust the other kingdom to protect her just yet.”

“Oh my… You’re right. Okay, I’m entrusting you with her, then. I want you to get her there and back safely, San.”

“Yes, your highness.”

With a wave of his hand, the king dismissed San. He returned to the Great Hall where you were standing and tapping your foot nervously while anxiously biting your nails. You looked at him with expectant eyes, and he responded to you with a quick nod. Relief washed over your body, and a smile bloomed on your face. San turned around and made his way back to his quarters in a hurry as your smile made his heart nearly swoon.

San’s heart did swoon when he saw your full outfit for the ball. You had a beautiful royal purple strapless lace ballgown on, rhinestones decorating your bust, waist, and hips. You smoothed out the dress and looked down at it before looking at San and asking quietly, “Do I look alright?”

“Princess, you look so beautiful,” San said with a tiny gasp. “You’re going to be the most beautiful woman at this ball.”

You smiled shyly at the man. You knew that he was just telling you that because you were the princess, but it was still nice to hear him say that. San held his hand out for you and assisted you as you got into the carriage before sitting alongside you.

The steady clicking of the horses hooves droned on in the background as the carriage made its way along the dirt path. The clicking was so steady, in fact, that it lulled you to sleep, your eyes growing heavier with each passing second. It was only when you fully fell asleep did you rest your head on the knight’s shoulder, slightly startling the man.

San couldn’t help but observe your features. You were so beautiful when awake, so he didn’t expect you to be such a graceful sleeper as well. Your long eyelashes were so perfectly curved that it took everything in the knight to not run a finger along them, and the way your rosy lips were slightly parted as you breathed softly drove him insane. Rather than squish you— you know, as one does with cute things— San settled for brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead, only to immediately freeze.

Oh shit.

That was out of bounds. He should not have done that— he was merely a knight and you were the princess! How dare he make a move on your sleeping being? Shame consumed San’s body as he recoiled, his shoulder moving slightly, making your head nearly slip from your comfortable pillow. You let out a little whine and pushed yourself closer to San, threatening the man’s heart. He froze yet again and held his breath, wondering if you were awake for that moment when he kissed your forehead, but you weren’t. You were fast asleep.

At least you were asleep, San had to keep telling himself as the long journey to the other kingdom persisted. At least you were asleep.

“Okay, just stay right by my side, San,” you instructed San as soon as you got out of the carriage.

Thanks to your amazing nap in the carriage, you were on full, high alert from the moment you arrived in the other kingdom. You linked arms with San and let him escort you into the palace where the ball was completely underway. You only clung closer to the knight as you made your way through the halls and into the Grand Hall where dozens of princes and princesses were talking, drinking, laughing, and dancing.

“What’s the plan, princess?” San asked you in a hushed voice as the two of you stepped through the threshold.

“We need to find the prince—”

“Princess Y/N! I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive!” a voice said cheerily from behind you.

Startled, you jerked away from San and turned around to face the prince you were to wed, your heart pounding like crazy as you realized that you would have to lie to the prince well before you had time to prepare yourself.

“P-prince Yeosang!” you exclaimed while nearly biting your tongue.

“Oh, and I see you’ve brought a guest,” Yeosang’s voice flattened almost immediately upon seeing the knight by your side.

Sensing your fear, San reached for your hand and held it, his fingers lacing with yours. You would think that the action would calm you down, but it only made you more flustered. Mustering up the courage within you, you cleared your throat and said, “Yeah. Actually, I need to tell you something.”

Before you could continue, Yeosang held his hand up. He didn’t need to hear it since just seeing your hand in San’s was enough to explain the situation. “Does your father know?” Yeosang asked icily.

“Yes,” you lied straight through your teeth.

“Interesting… Alright, well, enjoy the ball. I’ll see you around some time, princess.”

With that, Yeosang returned to his guests at the ball, his arm immediately wrapping around the waist of another princess. You let out a huge sigh of relief and turned to look at the knight, your eyes sparkling brilliantly as you made eye contact.

“Thank you, San!” you whispered but cheered at the same time.

Rather than wait for a response from him, you threw your arms around him and hugged him to show your appreciation. San was completely taken aback, but after a few seconds, he accepted the hug, his own arms wrapping around your body. He could faintly smell the fragrance you had used earlier that day, and he so badly wanted to bury his nose in your hair and enjoy the smell properly, but he refrained.

Little did he know that you were in the same boat, but with him and his musk. San smelled so manly and so sexy, you felt like your insides were about to start a raging fire the longer you immersed yourself in his warmth and scent. Then, you realized you had been hugging the man for quite some time, so you let go and shuffled away slightly, a light blush appearing on your cheeks. Had you looked up, you would have seen that San’s face was extremely red, and you only looked up by the time it subdued.

“We, uh,” San cleared his throat and spoke softly. “We have some time to kill before we head back… What would you like to do, princess?”

“Well, I’m not going to say no to free food and drinks,” you murmured.

Letting out a light laugh, San nodded and said, “Of course. Right this way, your highness.”

Arm wrapped loosely around your waist, San accompanied you wherever you went. He made sure to stick close to you as the night progressed, one of his hands always on you at any given moment.

The two of you were standing and watching the couples waltz on the dance floor. San refused to drink— technically, he was on the job, so he had to remain sober— while you nursed your second drink of the night. You tore your eyes from the ballroom floor and looked at the attractive knight. You thought you were subtle, but he could feel your intense gaze on him as he continued to look at the dancers. Maybe you were drunk, he told himself the longer you stared. He thought you were drunk, but you definitely were not. What kind of princess would you be if you didn’t know how to control yourself and maintain your tolerance?

“San, you’re really attractive, you know that?” you murmured.

“Princess…”

You brought your hand to his face and traced your finger over his cheekbone, along his jaw, and on his lips. You stood the tiniest bit closer to him as you then placed a thumb on his lower lip and dragged it down slightly, your nail grazing the inside of his lip. San’s heart was racing faster than a horse, and his mind was slowly beginning to melt. You looked so fucking beautiful looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, your slightly parted lips driving him insane once again. Before his mind could completely lose a grip on reality, San grabbed your wrist and moved your hand away from his face, your arm going limp and resting by your side.

“That’s highly inappropriate, princess,” San said roughly as he remembered his station.

“San, we need to look the part,” you insisted.

“We already showed the prince.”

“What about the castle staff?”

San blinked several times before leaning in and whispering into your ear, “You’re really playing with fire right now, princess.”

You turned your head, your lips so close to brushing past his, and whispered, “Would you rather dance with me instead, Knight San?”

Holding his breath, San moved away from you, trying desperately not to show how flustered he was by your actions. He gave you a tiny nod and held his hand out for you, your hand slipping into his perfectly. He led you to the dance floor and put his arm on your waist as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

You honestly didn’t expect San to be such a great dancer. He was a knight— his heavy armor and broad build should’ve made him super stiff. But no, he was fluid, graceful, light, and everything else a dancer is. He quite literally swept you off your feet the more you danced with him. You looked at his face as he whisked you side to side, around the other couples, and through the ballroom floor. Your heart was already fluttering the more you thought about his firm, rough hand on your waist, and it only got worse when his eyes met yours. In fact, your heart was beating so rapidly that you completely missed a step. You tripped over your own dress and nearly fell backwards, but San caught you in time, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

When he pulled you up, he held you flush against his chest. Your eyes widened as you felt him hug you the slightest bit tighter.

“Are you okay?” San whispered.

“Y-yes… I think…. I need some air.”

Brushing past San, you went straight for the palace balcony, the cool breeze in the midnight sky snapping you out of your heart-fluttering trance. That only worked for about two seconds because your mind immediately drifted back to the way San was holding you when you nearly fell. You bit your lower lip and started pacing the balcony as you tried to calm yourself down, but the more you thought about it, the more heat pooled inside you. You felt like a goddamn animal in heat with the way you were thinking about Knight San, a man that you would never, not in your dizziest daydream, be allowed to wed, let alone sleep with.

“Princess?” you heard San call for you, his foot barely through the threshold.

You turned around to face him, and San immediately stopped breathing. You seemed to be turning in slow motion, your hair swaying with the wind, and your dress briefly flourishing before settling, giving you a more than majestic feel.

San approached you slowly at first, then quickly arrived by your side, one of his hands cupping your face while the other found your waist, and he kissed you deeply, passionately. He kissed you as if his life depended on it, like if the two of you weren’t connected, the entire palace would crumble to ashes.

“Yes, Knight San?”

It was only when you called his name did San realize that he was still standing right in front of the doorframe— he hadn’t moved an inch.

“W-we should leave soon, princess,” San managed out, his throat dry as he realized his deepest and darkest desire manifested itself into a dizzy daydream.

“Okay, let’s go.”’

The ride back from the ball was hellish. Both you and San were on edge the entire ride back— not that the two of you knew that the feelings between the two of you were mutual. You were staring out the window into nothingness as it was night time and the only things you could clearly see were the moon and the stars, and San was fixated on his balled up fists in his lap, trying to extinguish the fire burning within him.

It progressively got harder for both of you when the carriage arrived at your kingdom. San got down first, and he held his hand out for you to assist you out of the carriage. But, when your skin made contact with his, you felt like your hand was on fire— he felt the exact same way. You both shared intense eye contact that said way more than either of you were willing to relinquish, the tension in the air and in your chest palpable.

“G-good night, San,” you whispered, your heart clenching at the thought of parting with the man.

“Good night, princess,” San returned in the same register, the glimmer in his eyes fading slightly.

With that, the two of you retreated back to your respective rooms, and the second you entered the castle, thunder broke out, and it started raining heavily. You jumped upon hearing the boom, the sound nearly shaking the castle. Oh, how you hated rainstorms. Rain itself was fine, but thunder and lighting? Nuh uh. You had no idea how you were going to get yourself to sleep that night.

San, stripped down to his simple cotton clothing, laid awake in his bed not because of the storm, but because of you. He rested one of his arms across his stomach to try and release the tension building up in his nethers, his other one over his forehead trying to ease his mind. Yet, he couldn’t, because his mind kept flashing to you in your dress, making his pants tighter with every memory.

Luckily for him, it was when someone suddenly knocked on the door was he able to fully calm down. He quickly made his way to the door, and upon opening the door, there was another loud boom of thunder, making the person on the other side of the door jump into his arms— making you jump into his arms.

“P-p-princess!” San exclaimed in a hushed but surprised voice. “What’re you doing here?! You’re not supposed to be here!”

“I’m s-sorry, San. I just couldn’t sl-EEP—”

There was another clap of thunder, scaring you further into his arms. You buried your face in his chest and clung to his shoulders, using him as some sort of safety shield.

San didn’t know what to think of the situation. He knew that whatever the fuck was going on was way out of bounds for someone in his station. He knew that, but in the same breath, he didn’t want to let you go. He loved the way you fit perfectly into his embrace, the way your elegant nightgown swayed when you jumped further into his arms, your trembling arms and legs begging for someone to keep you safe, so on and so forth. Dare he say it, he was in love with you, but he definitely did not dare.

Hugging you securely, San completely closed and locked the door to his room before walking you to his bed and sitting you down alongside him. “Princess, don’t be scared,” he whispered as he pulled himself away from you and brushed your hair behind your ear.

Nodding, you willingly let go of him and placed your hands flat in your lap, your fingers still slightly trembling with fear. “Sorry, I just…” you started with a heavy sigh. “I couldn’t sleep because of the rain and… And because of other things…”

“What other things?” the knight inquired.

“…I meant what I said earlier, you know.”’

San didn’t have to ask about what you were referring to. He knew exactly what you were trying to say, and while he really wanted to accept your interest in him, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. It was not proper of him to do so, and it would never be proper of him to do so.

You knew this as well, which is why you scooted closer to San and reached for his hand. Silently, with your eyes, you told him to not resist it and just let you touch him, hold his hand, lace your fingers with his.

“Princess, you know that this isn’t right,” San tried to fight his feelings and let reasoning win, but when you rubbed circles on the back of his hand with your thumb, he felt his feelings override logic and reasoning.

“I know,” you said with a sad whisper. “But, I… I don’t want to be with anyone else. I really like you. You’re sweet, considerate, loyal, handsome, and honest, and I don’t know if there are any other princes in this entire world that share your same qualities. You’re… Perfect.”

“Princess, I’m not perfect. You’re perfect,” San reversed your compliment and unlaced his fingers with yours to cup your face. “You’re the most perfect being, and I truly would do anything to be with you—”

“Then do it.”

“W-what?”

“Be with me. Kiss me,” you leaned into him, your hand pressing into his thigh as you neared him. “Sleep with me.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Tentatively, San brought your face to his, his thumb rubbing against your ear as he kissed you softly. His hot touch on your cheek and ear only got hotter as his kisses deepened, his lips trapping yours over and over and over again. You held onto his shoulders as he brought you onto his lap, your ass rubbing against his slowly stiffening, shielded cock. He sighed blissfully in between kisses, little grunts and gasps leaving his lungs when you shifted against him just right.

And yet, while he kissed you so passionately, he was still so reserved. His tongue remained in his mouth, non-intrusive, dormant.

“San,” you breathed out as you pushed against him gently, trying to get him to listen to you. “Just let yourself go. Don’t be the self-restrained knight my father conditioned you to be. Be insatiable tonight.”

“I’m warning you— you won’t get a wink of sleep tonight then, princess,” San whispered back, his voice so low it could’ve turned into a growl.

“I’d rather you kept me up instead of the storm.”

With your blessing, San swiftly moved you so that you were laying on the bed while he hovered above you. He leaned down and kissed you once more, but this time, he did let go. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth and swirled with yours, and his hands grabbed the bottom of your nightgown and lifted it upwards, revealing the fact that you had nothing on underneath.

“You sleep without undergarments, princess?” San broke the kiss to ask you his question in shock.

“San, don’t call me princess… Call me by my name,” you told him, completely sidestepping his remark about your sleep habits.

With that sensual, low rumble of his, San uttered your name, and instantly, goosebumps covered your entire body. He sounded so incredibly sexy when he said your name like that, and it just made you want to latch onto him and never let go.

“Y/N, may I?” San asked as he slowly lowered himself, bringing his lips closer to the searing heat between your legs, his large hands gripping your thighs gently.

Hearing him asking for permission so politely while saying your name sent butterflies storming through your insides.

“May I?” San asked again, still waiting upon your response.

“Please.”

The second his tongue made contact with your folds, your fingers and toes curled into the sheets, a long pleasureful sigh leaving your lips. Your back arched as you felt his tongue press and prod into you, his hold on your thighs tightening the more he immersed himself in your wet cunt.

“Oh San… Oh! Mmm,” you did your best to keep your moans to a minimum, but the longer he spent down there, the tighter the knot in your belly became and the harder it became to suppress your noises.

You barely lasted the second San’s tongue circled around your clit and his finger entered and curled inside you. Your entire body shuddered, and you let out a little cry as you felt the tension within you snap.

“San,” you whimpered as you felt the pleasure gradually die down. “I want more…”

“As you wish,” San responded, a slight smirk on his face, turning you on all over again.

San pulled off your nightgown altogether before he slowly started undressing himself, giving you a little show as he did so. The rain was still coming down hard, and there was thunder and lightning in the distance, but you were so entranced by San that you forgot everything. However, you went from being enamored back to being fearful when he revealed the massive weapon he had been hiding under all of the armor, all of the layers. Of course, he was fully erect, so it couldn’t get any bigger than that, but it still made fear course through your veins.

“I’ll start slowly for you, and only when you feel comfortable will I go faster,” San murmured to you as he trapped your body between his arms and knees, easing a little bit of your fear.

His cock head rubbed against your sensitive clit, making you grip the sheets behind your head. Your clit was still throbbing and recovering from your orgasm just moments prior, so when you felt him rub against you like that, the pleasure just soared through you to the point that you came again, the walls of your cunt convulsing, your knees shaking.

“Alright,” you detected a hint of a chuckle behind San’s words. “I’m going to start.”

“H-hurry, San…” you whimpered, your voice trembling.

You knew San was going to be huge, and that it was going to be a tight fit, but knowing wasn’t enough. It felt like his cock was tearing you apart. You bit back a loud scream and reached for San’s arms, your nails clawing into his forearms. He was nearly balls deep inside you by the time he stopped moving, his waist pressed firmly against yours.

“You’re doing so well for me, Y/N,” San validated you with the softest yet sexiest voice you had ever heard. He leaned down and smoothed your hair back before leaving a light kiss on your lips. “So well.”

“San— Ngh!”

Your breathy moan turned into a little cry when San started moving again, his cock pulling out just as slowly as when he pushed it into you. Little dots of perspiration decorated his forehead and started rolling down the sides of his face as his gyrations started to speed up and became more and more intentional. You had to settle for biting your lower lip when San leaned back, thrusting faster and harder. His hands reached for your breasts, and he massaged them, rolling your hardening nipples in between his fingers, evoking the most erotic groans out of you.

“You’re making such lewd noises, Y/N.” San licked then bit his lower lip, his eyebrow raising slightly the more he listened to your melodic moans. “You like it that much?”

“Mmhmm— More— Ah! M-more,” you barely instructed.

The wood of the bed frame creaked as his fast, hard thrusts shifted the whole bed. His eyebrows were knitted together the more he focused on pleasuring you, sweat drops falling from his face and decorating your bare skin and the sheets below. He long foregone toying with your breasts and bent himself over you again, his body practically rolling into yours. His lips kept teasing you, brushing against yours but never fully kissing you, but when he brought them to your neck, his lips would press against your skin before biting lightly, playfully.

Then, he shifted up ever so slightly, his cock starting to rub against your G-spot and hit your cervix in every stroke. Sparks filled your vision as he kept going at the two spots over and over again. You reached for his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin harshly as you cried loudly, the rainstorm drowning out your screams.

San, feelings the walls convulse and tighten around his thick cock, felt pleasure surge through his system as well. He pulled out, but before he could cum, you shook your head and tugged his shoulders, bringing him down so his ear met your lips.

“Inside. Please.”

Shuddering, San quickly re-entered you and did as you requested, his hot load spurting into you uncontrollably. San let out the most toe-curling, pussy-clenching groan, making you thirst for the man once more. It certainly did not help when you felt his cum spill out of you when he pulled out.

When San looked down to see your red, quivering pussy dripping with his cum and your arousal fluid, he gulped and did his best to suppress his perverted desire to keep filling you up with his lineage. That lasted only several seconds because when you outstretched your arms and willed him to embrace you, you also kissed him with enough intensity to make him want to fuck you hard all over again.

“Be the reason I don’t sleep tonight, San.”

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