#LORD you two are DISGUSTING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 8 months ago

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𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | s. gojō + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Three powerful empires, two childhood companions, and one you. What is supposed to be a peaceful alliance is slowly turning into a rocky relationship between royal friends...Is there any way you can save it?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo + true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - royal-like + fantasy AU! - porn with plot - Gojo + reader is age 28 + Sukuna is older; mid-30s - mutual pining + confessions - size differences - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - virginity loss - fingering (f! receiving) - back-to-chest + cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play - cerfix-fucking - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, dove, human, little one, pet, sweetie) - marriage proposals - cameos: Utahime and Miwa - Gojo and Sukuna can't stand each other, obvi - humor + drama - mention of drool, blood, spit and tears - will be proofread later.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.4k words (BRUH, i hate it here.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: aight, after 10 whole months, it's FINALLY dropped! this took foreverrrr, ughhhh. anyways, sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this one, and thanks again for 11.2k starlings, ilysmmm!! ☆☆

“…”

“—y Lady…My Lady!”

“Huh?” You blink and face the door where the voice is coming from. “Oh, I’m sorry, Utahime. You can come in.”

“Jeez, I was knocking for a whole minute.” Your lady-in-waiting, Utahime, closes the door behind her when entering your chambers, walking up to where you were sitting by the mirror. “And I thought I told you to refer to me by my last name, my Lady.”

You smile at the reflection of the other coming behind you, kneeling and readying the iron basin filled with warm water and rose petals. Her hand and the washcloth swish the surface for the floral scents to enter your nostrils. “Well, we’ve been friends for how long? I’ve referred to you by your first name for all my life, even before you became my handmaiden.”

“Hmph, even then,” Utahime scoffs before taking your feet and dipping them in the warm water. “You don’t see me dare call the sole, precious child of this empire’s greatest warrior by their given name.”

“No, but I always tell you I don’t mind. Besides, you usually do it when we’re alone, and that’s enough for me.”

“If that’s what makes my Lady hap—“

“It does.” You look at her with a pleasant aura, and the dark-haired one snickers before straining the washcloth.

“As you wish…Y/n.” You puff your chest with satisfaction; however, your handmaiden isn’t done talking, “But I know the matter of my name isn’t something that’s having you lost in your thoughts.” Her observation takes you slightly aback, and her brown orbs peer up to capture your attention. “Would you like to tell me what’s corrupting your mind?”

With a heavy sigh, your back touches the chair as you slouch. Your eyes glance to the open window as the blinds drift gently with the calm wind. The swaying motions of the curtains almost convince your stress to wither away along with the quietness. Almost.

“Utahime,” you begin with her name, still facing the window. “…What do you think about Lord Satoru Gojo?”

“Tch,” you didn’t have to turn to know that the woman had the most disgusted expression, the click of her teeth was telling. “What is there to think?”

“Hehe, well, we’ve known each other since we could walk—“

“Yeah, and — pardon me, my Lady — but that bastard is such a nuisance, even if he just became the crowned heir of the Gojo bloodline and the holder of the Six Eyes.” The dark-haired woman scrubs your feet with vigor, but you don’t say anything, containing your laughter. “That man–ugh! Every time he visits the palace, he will never stop teasing me for deciding to leave my family and become your lady-in-waiting. Who does he think he is!”

The laugh you try to hinder seeps out in hushed giggles. “Well—ahem—what about Lord Ryomen?”

Utagime stops her hand and washcloth between your toes, her face in your direction. Both brows trenched with a thin line of her mouth. “……As of recent…Scary–no, intimidating would be an understatement...my Lady, perhaps the visit and stay of the two lords is what have you down?”

Another heavy sigh, “I guess that would be the case…”

You reside in the founding empire of the great continent. In the ancient past, it is said that the Great Saint Tengen came from the heavens and blessed this world with miracles, living in the country that you’re standing in right now. It was said that Tengen was the benevolent child of Gods and the Parent of Beings who graced everyone – both human and non – with compassion, kindness, and love through their sorcery. When they disappeared, the world fell into a divide, their people sticking amongst themselves while following the teachings and words of Saint Tengen.

As the centuries came following this tale, the countries of this world have maintained a relatively peaceful union. However, the main continent – your continent – is home to three major empires: the North, the East, and the West. As mentioned before, you live in the founding Western nation, also known as the homeland of Tengen.

You are a royal of this land and the sole heir to the throne right after your father, a mighty war soldier and sorcerer respected by his people and allies. As the crowned king of the Western capital, your father has done his job in using his strong leadership to maintain a functional structure for the people, using his wisdom to tread on matters with a tranquil mind, and making decisions that would not only benefit his own people but also his allies. Sometimes, you forget that such a great man could be your father. Yet his undying love for you, his sole child and princess, proves how lucky you are.

In the Northern Lands above are known as the land of Sorcery. Your father may be a powerful sorcerer, but the empire he rules does not harbor the majority of the population who practice sorcery (or lack thereof). That would go to the snowy Northern Empire, a land where many of Tengen’s scholars and practitioners have come from and implemented their teachings. The current head of this nation is bestowed to the affluent House Gojo, who recently crowned their heir after the death of its late king. Satoru Gojo, the first royal after a century gifted with two of the most intense abilities made by Saint Tengen – the Six Eyes and Limitless – sits on the Northern throne. And is also a dear family friend.

To the East lies a country mostly comprised of harsh deserts and dangerous forests, filled with creatures that aren’t of the human imagination. Once referred to as the land of “Tengen’s True Children,” the eastern empire is known worldwide as the Demon Country. Creatures reside in this part, beings that can easily overpower the average human – or worse, kill. They are ruled by the King of Demons, Sukuna Ryomen. As the scariest, cold-hearted, and violent beast of the empire, Sukuna is regarded as Tengen’s “Fallen Star,” a soul that embodies the precise opposite nature of the saint. And yet, this brutal master is also a cherished companion in the company of you and your father.

“What about their visits seems to make you upset?” Utahime lifts the bottom of your nightgown to scrub further up, the warm, damp towel scraping the skin of your left femur.

“I don’t know…I suppose it’s because things are different than a decade and a half ago.” It was one way of speaking the truth.

“Why, of course, things would be different now. You expect I’d be looking after a tiny heir all my life?” She giggles. “Although, that would be quite nice.”

“Oh, to be young forever would be a treat, wouldn’t it?” You add on to her humor. “Yet, that’s not what I meant. It’s been so long since the three of us been in this palace together – let alone in any space together. The War of the Blood and Magic has been ongoing for years now. Whenever my father wishes to speak with them about an issue, one must be here while the other is in their respective territory.“

“Mmm, I have observed that…But still, even with this war going on, it shouldn’t negate the fact that you three have been friends for so long. I still remember the day young Gojo came to the garden where you and I were making flower crowns.“

You smile at the memory. “I remember how upset you were when he grabbed my hand one day and took us to his guest room to show his Limitless.”

You try your hardest to keep in your laughter when she glares up at you – not at you, but at the recollection instead. “That fool, even as a child, knows nothing of boundaries. He was a bright boy — still is, I’ll give him that. But my Gods, the way he would do everything in his power to impress you was so cocky of a young lord, especially in the presence of the next heir to the continent. The nerve of him…And then! The time he had the nerve to question me when I told you I wanted to be your handmaiden. That little blue-eyed weasel said, ‘You? The daughter of a mediocre house, as the princess’ personal maid? You should try and aim lower or marry someone who’d tolerate your un-ladylike attitude.’ I was too stunned to speak…I should’ve choked his ass out!”

“—Pfffthahaha, stop, you’re scrubbing too hard!” You halt your lady-in-waiting with stiffened giggles, the poor woman sighing for displaying such aggression unbefitting for her title. “You could never stand him, and to think I thought you had a crush on him.”

“Please, my Lady, never say that aloud, or else my father would try to make my worst nightmare become reality.” She shakes her head, putting your left leg into the basin and switching to the right.

“And the day I introduced you as my maid to him, you had the smugest smirk that couldn’t be wiped off that night.”

“You’re goddamn right, my Lady!” That coarse remark had the both of you in a fit of cackles, water damn near splashing out as you wiggle your legs. “Ahhhh, but those were the days. I believe Lord Ryomen came into the picture after that. I remember the first day your father accepted the young demon king’s wish to seek an audience; he was a bit shorter than his current eight-foot-tall stature. Four arms were tiny like a teenager, and his,” she waves a hand up and down over the left side of her face. “This was distinguishable.”

You hum along with the description of the once young teenage demon king. “His human mother died during childbirth, and his father a demon who was exorcised for impregnating the poor woman. He was the first hybrid sorcerer of his time to utilize sorcery with the dark techniques of demon arts, becoming the most powerful and making a name for himself in the Eastern empire. He was alongside my father during the Great Demon War, using his powers to take down opposing cursed forces from outside nations. The two earned each other’s respect – more on my father’s part.”

“That, he was…truly a hard one to read, outside of always looking like he’d cut something out of boredom. I worried for the day he’d catch sight of me looking at him the wrong way and slice my throat,” the mere thought of the deadly being’s scowl was enough to send goosebumps up Utahime’s way. “Even the spars he had with your father and Gojo, I’m amazed to see this palace still standing in one piece.”

“Hehe, imagine how I felt when he’d catch me watching and then pull me aside to train with him — not asking, demanding that he teaches me how to wield a weapon.”

“Ohhh, my Lady, my nerves were never calm whenever he instructed you. Fearing for your life was my biggest sport. He couldn’t stand the fact that the sole heir of the greatest warrior didn’t have the drive to wield and charge.” She places your other leg down, rinsing the washcloth with more water before asking for your right arm. “It’s not like your father ever dared to entertain the thought of you entering battle anyway! That man, truly a scary thing…”

You throw your head back, resting it on the rail of the chair. “For my eighteenth year, he gifted me my own sword — handmade and light for my hands.”

“Men.” Utahime shakes her head once again. “Yet, despite how odd he and Gojo are, they seemed at ease whenever you were around. Whether it be visits from them to discuss with the King or attending events here at the palace, those two acted a lot more…calm.”

Her observations stuck with you, closing your eyes to think more. “I only wonder if we could revert to those days when we were close. Unfortunately, with this current war between the two, this vision is impossible to imagine….”

You and the two lords have been friends for years – decades, even. And you were no fool; it was apparent that this relationship would dwell into something less familiar once the two become distant. And the war between the two empires proves this statement true…

It was your twenty-fourth year when you heard the news of the War of Blood and Magic. A year prior, an incident in the northern empire occurred where a sorcerer and his company were butchered by invading demons. Enraged, many men would go down to the demon continent to pillage and exorcise demon villages and towns as a form of justice. However, it only sparked the increasing tension between the factions into a conflict past the phase of talk and civilized words.

Taking matters into his own hands, Sukuna found the men responsible for the rampage and had their bodies sliced within seconds, sending their bloody, severed heads back to the North as his declaration of war. In the coming years after that, there was nothing but ongoing bloodshed between the two; every battle and atrocity shared with your father made you squeamish – not just because of the brutality, but also the loss of Sukuna and Gojo’s relationship with every passing day.

It made you feel sick — powerless in wanting the two to remember their merciful ways and talk like men. But you knew that was child's play — the time for miracles and fairy tales vanished with Tengen. And now, as the fourth year of this constant battle between humans and demons of this continent shows no signs of stopping, your worrying nature is on edge more than ever.

“It may seem impossible to imagine, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the execution,” Utahime’s voice rings you back to the present, alternating to your left arm to wipe before dismissing herself from the night. “I’m sure your father believes that as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited the two here for the first time in four years. I think he and all the people of this empire grow worrisome for the fate of this continent if all that’ll be left is a clash between two factions.”

“That may be true,” yet your tone was somber. “But if he can’t convince his two trusted allies to cease this fight, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but see who comes out victorious. And I’d hate to see one stand and the other down in a pool of their blood…”

Utahime hums and lets the silence take over for a few seconds. And then she speaks again, “….Maybe, if not your father, then you should be the one to bring the two together.”

Me? “Me?”

“Yes, my Lady. You may be the princess of the greatest warrior, but you are also the dear friend of his allies. Your word means law to them — they trust your input when asked and see you as a perfect successor in line.”

“But that’s just based on titles and old conversations that don’t hold up to the now…Out of the three of us, I was the one who stayed put in this castle while the others played dirty, severing limbs and creating craters on this sacred continent. We are not children anymore, yet I feel like the one who’s still a naive babe with hands clean.”

“Now that is not true, my Lady!” Fierce brown eyes bore to you. “Just because you don’t have blood on your hands doesn’t make you unfit as a leader. You are the sole child of the King of the Western Empire, the land that Tengen once slept and walked on. That makes you the one next in line after your father.”

“That is my stated birthright—“

“And so!” You held your tongue; she was not done yet. “You have proven that birthright true from what you’ve done so far. I can count on my hands and toes all the times your father came to you for advice on a matter that didn’t sit right with him, knowing that your wisdom and compassion aid your judgment. And let’s not forget how you’ve kept a neutral stance on this issue thus far, knowing it’s the best and safest option for your father and his people. You are his child, after all…What I’m saying is that people change. And that goes the same for you; you’ve become a face I can trust and depend on, and I’m glad to have the right to watch over you until you see fit.”

You knew she meant every word, so you kept silent for her to finish.

“So, I say this with all the genuineness in my heart. I believe you can smack some sense up those two’s minds. You are the princess, but you are a friend above all else. Lord Gojo had just arrived today, leaving Lord Ryomen on his way in three days' time. Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance.”

There was nothing wrong with her words; everything was well-spoken with a perspicuous style and valid points. She was your closest friend – no one knew you better than she did. So, there’s no reason to try and find whatever flawed construct that was in her argument.

Finally, after she was done dapping your arm with the washcloth and drying your feet after taking them out of the metal basin, you smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right; I’m your best friend!” Utahime stands with a puffed chest filled with pride, picking up the basin by the handles. “And as the right one, I reckon you should turn in for the night. Leave this matter for tomorrow so the solution you’re looking for will be easier to find.”

“Mmm, your advice is well-received like always.” You stand from the chair, stretching your limbs. When she approaches your door, you bid your handmaiden farewell for the night, “See you in the morning, Utahime.”

With a wink, she parts before shutting the door, “Sleep well and tight, my Lady.”

The warm presence of your friend is missed now that you’re alone in your room. The candles around your chambers exhibit a warm glow that should make you feel safe, but that wasn’t the case today. Even after your night routine, the cold still resided in your skin. You sigh again through your nostrils; the invisible weight on your shoulders makes it impossible to lift them.

You turn back to your mirror – your reflection brings up the conversation with your best friend minutes ago. Examining your features, placing your hand on your cheek to sense your skin, alone with your thoughts. Did I really change that much? Your face tilts to the side, but the different angle doesn’t seem to help give a proper answer. Hmm…Perhaps it’s something I’m not supposed to see.

With a yawn, you stand straight again, deciding to take up Utahime’s advice and retire for the night. You face your queen-sized bed, anticipating your figure sinking into the soft, comfortable mattress.

What you didn’t anticipate was releasing a big gasp when turning to your bedding, your body going rigid, and your blood stopping circulation.

“Hey.”

Something was sitting on your bed. No, someone was on your bed. And judging by the deep, guttural timbre of their voice, you are familiar with this person.

You turned to your left once you heard a word. A figure was coming into the lighted room from the dark of the balcony – a giant, no, ginormous figure. Based on the height, he was inches from touching the entrance frame, way taller than any royal you’ve ever met — or, at least, any human royal you’ve ever seen.

The body was broad and could engulf you even from ten steps away. Four burly arms protrude from the torso, and black nails that resemble claws match the black tattoos painted on his shoulders, biceps and triceps, wrists, back, and chest. The markings also reside on the right of his face that’s morphed with another, which holds four red eyes instead of two, along with earrings that stretch his big earlobes. Aside from his bloody orbs, one thing that contrasts his appearance is the rusty salmon color of his hair. And that was the first thing you saw — the first thing that had your mind recollect him.

“Lord Ryomen.” His name didn’t feel proper to say. It’s been almost a year since you last saw him, but he was still the same brutal man you’ve heard about all this time…yet a companion of yours nonetheless. “Father told me you would be here in two days. How did you—“

“You know I’m not one to wait.” He crossed his lower arms, the upper ones covered by a black robe that matched the black hakama pants he wore. “Especially when it comes to visiting this place.”

“And of Uraume?” The mention of the demon king’s trusted adviser quirks his brow. “Is it okay to leave them alone without you to watch over?”

“You think I’m weak on my own?”

“N–No, of course not!” You were quick to refute — you had to be when it came to him. “It’s just that I would feel bad; they’d worry about where you are.”

“And here you are worrying about them worrying about me. Hmph, humans,” he scoffs, and the mouth on his stomach grins. “Uraume knows to look after the ship when I’m gone or be my eyes when I’m not around. I’m not a child that needs protecting.”

You bow to him. “Of course you aren’t, my Lord. Forgive me for having you think as such.”

He hums, tilting his head while examining you. “Good. Lift your head.” You do as you’re told, watching him take a few steps closer to you. “It’s cold; why is your fire not set?”

You look at what he’s referring to, seeing that your fireplace harbored no flame. “I told my maids that I would be fine tonight without it, the heavy blankets will do—“

Your eyes travel back to Sukuna, only to see he isn’t where he stood. He vanished, nowhere in your room to be found. You turned behind, but he wasn’t there either. But once you heard heavy feet thunder on your floor again, you spun around to see the beast carrying four logs, one in each hand. You were marveled; you only heard talk of his speed, now it was a little scary seeing the real deal.

Sukuna bends down in front of your fireplace, setting the logs down perfectly. “Ignoring the cold’s existence is an ignorant game. A princess should be warm during this time of night.” Once the logs are set, he makes a sign with his upper right hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together to his mouth. He blows, and a string of fire spits out to the logs. The sound of crackling bark from the flames confirms his work. “You are not me; you should fear the cold.”

You nod to his lesson. “Thank you, Lord Ryomen.”

“There’s no one here. You have the right to refer to me by my first name.” Sukuna straightens himself up. The light from the fire has his face aglow, and the crimson in his eyes flicker while they hook onto you.

You don’t know why — maybe it was because of the instant heat touching your neck instead of the sudden allurement you’ve noted from the demon king. Regardless, you avert your gaze downward. “Yes, Lord Sukuna.”

“Hmm.” He croons, walking towards you to prompt your chin up with a hand. Your eyes widen at his action; this is the first time in forever since he’s laid a hand on you. Talks of those he touches die shortly after spark in your mind. “You still have the sword.”

It wasn’t a question – an observation. He noticed the weapon lodged above the fireplace, like a memento meant to be honored rather than used. You smile, “Yes, I make sure it’s nice and clean from dust.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I give you a present, and you treat it like a trophy.”

“It would be wise to treat a gift from the demon king like a treasure. It wouldn’t sit right with me knowing I used or damaged a present given to me by someone I care about.”

He tilted his head again. “And when I give a weapon to someone I wish to protect,” The word caught you off guard. Protect? “I expect them to use it as it’s intended. I will allow it this time, but I won’t be too forgiving the second. Understood?”

You heard him, but your mind was still wrapped around the word. Protect? Lord Sukuna wants to protect me? What for?? You didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just slipped. “Protect?”

His mood shifts into neutral. A subtle softness is displayed in that inhuman structure of a face — or maybe you imagined it because of the late hour. Your breath hitches when you feel his lower hands pull and wrap around your right hand; the way your palm dwarfs in his hold is appalling. And then he kneels. Sukuna, the eight-foot-tall demon king, kneeling before you. This was a bizarre night, candidly.

“Princess,” he starts with your name. It was the perfect method as he fully has your undivided attention. “You know why the King has wished to see me despite what’s occurring outside these chambers. He believes there is still room to talk, and I believe he's wasting his time because I'm close to setting the entire Northern front ablaze and nailing this score for good.”

You knew he meant that, and it scared you because if he really could, he would. He actually possesses the mentality and the drive to do it. And yet, all three parts of the continent continue to stand. Why?

“But that would result in more problems for me. I’d have the entire world after my head for terrorism. All the leaders will not rest until I’m gone — your father would have to come put me down. And I would kill him, all of them.” His eyes were on you, dead serious. “…But that would make you upset, and it pisses me off that you'd hate me for my drive for survival.”

“My Lord,” it was your turn to speak. “I wouldn’t hate you. Being upset would be justified. But when it comes to war, survival is the paramount destination. I only wish to avoid such significant losses – both for the people of our nations and the people I hold dear.”

“Mmm.” He took your words. There’s no need to say anything, knowing Sukuna heard your piece is good enough. “I can see where you stand in this, stubborn and naive like your father. So, I come to you with a proposition. Something I need for you to listen before I consider seizing this battle.”

The way he spoke had you on edge, truthfully. Yet, if he’s coming to you in the middle of the night to hear your piece, who are you as a friend to push him aside? You give him a nod, “Yes, my Lord?”

“Princess, I want to—“ he stops mid-sentence, his pink-slitted brow suddenly drew up before it furrowed at the next second. He lets go of your hand in a hurry, standing up in a flash. It had you squeak. “He’s here.”

The sudden change in tone had you blink up at the giant, startled. “Wh–Who?”

“….No, they will not be seeing you. The hour is late; they are heading for bed!”

“Oh, c’mon Utahime — an hour, give me one hour!”

“Don’t you DARE open that door—HEY!”

You and Sukuna’s eyes dart to your chamber door, which opens with an abrupt vigor as if it was kicked open — it was kicked. The foot that was prominent at the front goes down and swings in a figure that brightens the area. Baggy white paints contrast with a black dress shirt mixed with white, intricate, and alluring designs. Subtle blue patterns map around the black collar and cuffs, dancing down the white material behind gold buttons. It’s covered by an ocean-blue shawl that drapes the figure’s left side. But the most significant detail that gave away who the person was – outside of their voice alone – was the snow-shite hair that decorated the top of his head.

Your wide eyes take in the person before you, and a dainty smile comes to your lips when you say his name. Unlike Sukuna, who sucks his teeth with a deep scowl. “Lord Gojo, it’s—“

“PRINCESS~~!” Chipper as ever, Gojo greets you with a happy tune that is so familiar to the ears. His sky-blue eyes gleam and narrow whenever he’s in your presence, just like he’d do during your childhood years. “Glad to see that I’ll be able to see your beautiful face tonight, after all. And I thought I told you to call me by my first name, like when we were kids!”

His jest has you giggle, “And I thought I’d told you from the last visit to knock on my door before entering. You have my poor handmaiden chasing after you at this hour.”

“I second that notion wholeheartedly, my Lady.” Utahime comes into view, approaching from Gojo’s shadow. If looks could kill, she’d stab Gojo’s throat with dual-wielding daggers. Not that the white-haired man was paying her glare any mind. She sighs heavily before bowing to you, “My apologies, my Lady. Lord Gojo caught me leaving the stairs towards your hall, figuring he’d come to speak a word with—Holy Tengen!” Your lady-in-waiting gasps when she lifts her head to see that you aren’t alone in the first place. “L-Lord Ryomen!? F-F-Forgive me for not noticing your grace before.” She quickly returns her head for a bow, hoping the trusty, short right-hand retainer and advisor, Uraume, wasn’t here to lecture her.

But thankfully to her anxious stars, the demon king grunts, “You’ve been forgiven, human. I came here not too long ago to discuss matters with the heir.” His red eyes leave the bowing woman to look at Gojo, whose lighthearted cadence is stilled. “Alone.” The final word was all for the white-haired lord’s watch to switch to a silent, menacing tone, shaded by his bangs but perfectly seen by Sukuna.

“Yes, my Lord, I shall leave you two to yourselves then,” Utahime replies to the salmon-haired creature, lifting her upper body ready for dismissal. But she then grabs for Gojo’s arm and tugs. “That includes you as well, Lord Gojo.”

“Ehhhh, me? What about the giant freak across from me?” Gojo questions the woman who pulls him to the doorway. “I also have things to discuss with the princess I’ve expressed earlier for when I have the time, which is now. At least I made my appointment known. Unlike him, who came into their quarters unannounced.”

“And here you are, barging into their room!” she almost popped a vein; you worry for the poor woman dragging the tall figure out of your room. “Kicking their door and making yourself known doesn’t modify the definition of being unannounced. Come back tomorrow – I’m sure my Lady will be available to listen to your quarrels then.”

It was now that you finally decided to interject. “It’s all right, Utahime. Sleep still evades me for me to rest.” You look to Sukuna, his gaze already on your figure, and then to Gojo, who awaits your assertion. “…I will listen to both Lords and have them dismissed before I retire for the night. You may let Lord Gojo go now and get sleep yourself.”

Utahime gives you a concerned look, yet she silently lets go of the man when you give her a tiny nod. “As you wish. Have a good night, my princess. Lord Sukuna. Gojo.” She slams the door at the last name she says, her stomping footsteps and grumbling curses fading into the night.

And now here you were, alone in your room, with the two lords of two superpower empires – two childhood friends. Nevertheless, it’s back. The suffocating tension you’ve mentioned before returns and drapes over the three of you that the word “friend” feels teeny within it. You can’t lie to yourself; you’re weary to have either of them in your chambers, let alone be in the same space as you. You knew there would be a day when the two would come together; however, you were far from being prepared for said event.

Then again, it’s better now than never, right? You three used to be the best of friends – close companions that you could depend on and trust. Close companions that you desperately wish to continue trusting and having an unbreakable bond with. If not for you, then for your father’s and respective empires’ sake. So, with a deep breath, you exhale and think of how to go about this predicament. Be the heir that your father raised you to be.

“So,” You turn to Gojo to start with. “Lord Gojo—“

“Oh, c’mooon, what did I say about using my last name?” Gojo flashes a quick smile at you. “We’re friends, no? It’s not fair you refer to Maiden Iori by her first name; you should know mine like the back of your hand!”

His little pester does help swade a bit of stress off your shoulders. “My apologies, Satoru. It’s just that I must be respectful to my royals, even if we are long-time friends.”

The white-haired man chuckles, taking steps to be closer to you. “Even so, I want my princess to call me by my name, for you are the one I trust and hold dear the most. And I don’t want our familiarity to be tarnished by titles.”

“…If that’s what will make you happy, Satoru.” The address to the northern prince made you avert your gaze to the ground, and your cheeks dial in warmth. Who knew that he thought so deeply about a little gesture? And then there’s what he referred to you as—

“Your princess?” Sukuna’s voice snaps you back to the present situation: you and Gojo are not the only ones in your room.

Gojo takes his eyes off you and places them on the giant behind your shape. He taunts, “Yes, my princess, as they are the fair heir of this great empire who will rule after their great father. I’d say they are as much my princess to me as the other Lords and Maidens. But I’d be lying since I see them as more than that.”

Sukuna’s quadruple eyes darken as they narrow at the man before him. “Every time I see your scrawny self, you prove you’re the biggest fool than all the other senile jokes of Lords I’ve ever dealt with.” Two steps is all he takes to be right behind you. You can practically feel his shadow on you. “The person before us is indeed a royal above many – above you. So, I find it amusing that you would be dumb enough to emphasize such a ludicrous claim. You fail to know your place when in their presence. And in mine.”

Oh, that ticked something inside Gojo. Because the prince was no longer smiling, his attention was wholly on Sukuna. Many wouldn’t dare to glower at the giant creature the way Gojo was — let alone look at him. “Hah, you sure know how to make unfunny jokes, Sukuna. Because I’d rather eat demon shit than have you think for a moment that you are above me.”

“Hmph, I’m surprised your childish behavior has gotten you this far,” you can see from the shadow on the floor that Sukuna folds his lower arms. “Don’t think that you’ll be lucky with me.”

“Oh, believe me, my childish manner has gotten its fair share of tongue lashings and trouble, but I’ve been able to talk my ass out of shit ever since I was a kid. But I guess talk is too cheap for an oversized brute like you, huh?”

“Very. I’m a being of action—“

“Action? Or destruction?” The light blue of Gojo’s eyes shifts to that of a deep, cold shade under his bangs, with no sign of backing down. “Because from all I’ve heard about you, everything can crumble beneath you with just a swipe of the fingers. Outside of your lands, who’s to say you’re worthy of ruling when your methods and policy are more forbidding than mine? Or better yet, who gave you the gall to think that such a monster like you has a right to even be amongst civil people like me and the princess? Hell, the fact that you snuck in their room as you please sickens me to the core.”

“I can say the same for you, Satoru Gojo. Your entire occupancy does worse than bore me. Standing here with the man governing the family who’s killed many of my kin and demons fills me with inextinguishable anger. You have no idea how much excitement I’ll have for the day I cut that head of yours clean off, but because of my business with the princess, your death will be pending.”

“Not if my business is taken care of first.”

The demon growls. “Like hell, it will.”

“My Lords, please!”

The tense atmosphere is relieved by the abruption of your voice, bringing the lords’ quarrel to a standstill to face you. You squeak when their eyes land on you, forcing yourself to turn to the fireplace and deal with the growing storm of anxiousness inside you.

Gods, I should’ve had Utahime here with me! You curse yourself for being in this situation. Why tonight of all nights must you deal with this? It was as if your lady-in-waiting had this all planned — or worse, your father, having you treat the matter of your allies. You groan internally to your hands, letting your frustration be released.

You twirl back to face the two men before you, a deep inhale before saying, “Lord Satoru, what would you like to discuss with me at this hour?”

“Hah?” The disapproving mood of the demon king had your heart sink to the floor. “I was here first.”

“Yes, you came to my room first tonight. But Gojo was here first at the palace. He told me earlier that he wanted to speak, so I should hear him.” You could only hope your reasoning satisfied the tall being, who puffs his tattooed chest. And Gojo quickly flashed the other a vexatious look at Sukuna before you pivoted to him. “Now, Lord Go—“

“Aht aht!”

“…Lord Satoru,” He beams a big grin. “What do you wish to speak with me?”

“Well, although this is something meant for the two of us,” meant to be a stab to the other person in the room, who couldn’t care less about his presence being unwanted. “But this’ll suffice; it doesn’t hurt to have an audience.” You watch the silver-haired man take your left hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your knuckles.

“My Lady,” he looks at you with delicate azure eyes, his gaze so captivating that it locks you in position. “I’ve known you for quite a long time. Before I met you, my life as a royal was barren. Nothing sparked joy in me. The mundane tasks to uphold as the next heir, being pampered and sheltered as the gifted member of the Gojo House. I felt trapped in a mold — a mold that I resented having as my birthright, so much so that I wished to claw my eyes out at the age of five.”

You could tell he was speaking from the heart, his hands gripping yours tighter.

“But then, three years later, my father took me to meet the King of the western lands; at the time, it sounded like such a chore having to meet all these old, disgusting guys that I had to ‘maintain a good relationship’ with. And then, like the sun peeking through dark clouds, I saw you. I’ve met many royal kids before me, most snobby or kissing up to me for my good graces. Yet, none of them have been as alluring and breathtaking as you have been.” He pauses for a light chuckle. “I can still remember how your sweet voice addressed me when our fathers introduced us together. You stood tight to his leg, but your grace was ever present.”

“Mhmm, and I recall how angry your father was when you didn’t take a knee and instead greeted me with a handshake.” The two of you share a laugh, unaware of the disdained aura of Sukuna right next to you for a moment. “There are many things I hold close to my heart — you and our friendship being part of them.”

“I agree. I mean it when I regard you as one of my greatest treasures. This friendship we’ve had these years – decades, even – has been a blessing that I do not want to take for granted. Even with this war on my shoulders, I wish for it to be put to rest so I can finally have you by my side again. And that’s why…”

Gojo lifts your hand to his face; the soft feeling of his pillowy lips on your fingers has you holding your breath. Just like Sukuna…

“Princess, merciful child of Tengen’s Blessed Ground, I ask for your hand in marriage.”

It all took one second — one mere second.

One second for your world to come to a complete standstill, the cracking of the firewood no longer poking your eardrums and the breeze from the outside no longer grazing your skin. Your body instinctively refuses to move so much as a toe to disrupt your processing.

One second for your thoughts to absolutely vanish. No words of your own occupying your brain, no guesses on where this conversation was going. There was nothing. Nothing except the last seven words Gojo said that replay in your head. Over and over and over again.

One second for you to be in a perfect state of perplexity. Right before Sukuna grabs your free hand and yanks you to his side the next. Three giant hands wrap around you while one grips your wrist tightly.

He snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gojo sucks his teeth before straightening yourself. “Ehhhh, is your demon brain screwed on right? You don’t know what a marriage proposal is?” His question struck you more than it did the beast. Huh? A marriage proposal? Marriage!?

The fingers of Sukuna’s upper left-hand grips your shoulder, claw-like nails poking your skin as if to draw blood. “Hmph, the nerve of you humans never fails to disappoint me. Especially you, Satoru Gojo, who remains a thorn in my foot. Must I kill more of your men to keep you at your place as you did to my demonfolk?”

“Khh, don’t act like you ever cared about the lives sacrificed on your behalf. It’s gross.” Gojo takes one step, and Sukuna swiftly lifts his upper right hand at him, his fingers positioned at the same sign when he made flames for your fireplace. Your eyes widen, please, not in my room! Gojo takes a stance for battle. “Acting human doesn’t suit you at all, fuckface.”

The roar of laughter that the demon bellows out was chilling to hear. The vibrations coursing from his body to yours rocked you to your core. “Hah! Me, human!? There’s a reason I let go of that part of myself a long time ago. It made me weak – held me back from my full potential. You are right, though; it’s beneath me to care for those below me. However, I don’t tolerate those that mess with what’s mine.”

The word had Gojo’s eyes taper. “Let them go.”

“No. If anything, I should skin you here and now for even laying a finger on them in front of me.” You peered up at Sukuna, your anxiousness refusing to settle down during this high-stakes scenario. “Because any man that dares touch my wedded deserves to be torn and shredded by my hands alone.”

You couldn’t hide your gasp. It snuck past you – the perfect reaction to what you heard. H–His wedded? Me? Lord Sukuna’s wedded-to-be!? No wonder he was acting like that…!

“Your wedded?” Gojo was just as taken aback as you were. “You’ve got some huge balls to declare that right after bearing witness to me proclaiming my request for their hand.”

“Tch, bastard, why do you think I was here before you?” Sukuna flashes his big teeth, pride exuding from his form. “Did you honestly think I’d allow the princess to end up with the likes of you? Now, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” You’re still in shock of this madness. Two marriage proposals within the same hour? Both from your childhood friends who unequivocally despise each other’s existence? Any regular person would feel as if they’re experiencing a whirlwind right now.

Wait a minute…

“Oh, we’re talking fairy tales, you repugnant jackass.” It’s Gojo’s turn to get a kick out of this. “From what I can tell, the princess is meant to spend the rest of their life in comfort with a handsome human prince who swears to protect them and those they care for. Not a creature whose source of joy comes from killing and mayhem. You? Capable of love? Heh, be real. Not even your own dead mother was able to show you real love for her abomination of a—“

He stopped talking when he felt something warm roll down his cheek, a red fluid streaking to drop from his chin. You see a cut and blood, and a wave of dread hits you like a wall. It was Sukuna’s doing, no doubt. Your best friends were fighting in front of you, in your safe space. Your nerves have long forgotten what it meant to be in a state of calm.

Please, wait, stop—

“I already told you your death has been postponed, you northern shit,” red eyes darken, Sukuna's tone and aura unveiling a sense of brutality that shadowed your very being. It had you trembling. “But I don’t mind severing your tongue to make a point.”

The skin around the cut on Gojo’s skin begins to morph to find each other, seaming itself back to mint condition with a blue glow. Healing magic fixed his cut and cleared his blood, but the anger boiling inside him was prevalent in those striking eyes. Wanting nothing more than a bleeding head between his hands. “I’d like to see you try, you ugly prune.”

NO, STOP IT!!

This was all too much for a single night. This whole ordeal was far from your expectations. It was already stressful enough thinking about what would happen when the two lords were in this palace together. Now, in your quarters, you’ve never experienced a more life-and-death crisis having your friends — companions you used to laugh and engage with together — wanting to rip each other’s throats, especially for your hand in marriage. And, Tengen forbid, if you were to accept one’s proposal over the other…that would ignite a war above all wars. The bodies that fall on this mainland would all be in your undoing. The thought enough was too much to bear!

“I accept both!!”

The hostile complexion of the room vanished into the air in the blink of an eye. The sound of burning logs and dancing flames filled the space like before; the crashing ocean waves could be heard from your balcony. Nature was speaking without noises to interrupt it. It was quiet, too quiet.

You didn’t know what you just said until the last morphemes left your tongue. You silently remove your figure from Sukuna, covering your mouth in disbelief. And without having to see for yourself, you could tell that the two lords were just as flummoxed from your sudden sentence. What…What did I say just now?

“What did you just say?” As if he could read your mind, Sukuna relays your inner turmoil to be addressed.

Your heart was beating at an unbearable rate, your ears ringing like they’d soon set off and bleed. The trembles get worse with every second, and wiping your face off this Earth at this exact moment is all you wish for. You were so nervous that you were mere seconds away from the brink of tears. Oh, Tengen, why did I say that? What was I thinking?!? What am I to do? What do I—

“…Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance…”

And then, like a strange flash of an angelic tune, the words of your lady-in-waiting come back to you, instantly calming you down and reminding you who you are. You are the princess of the Western Front, the next heir after your father. This matter was bound to fall onto your lap one way or another — preferably less drastically and excitingly like this.

I am the princess, but their friend above all else…You remove your hands from your face, exhaling a shaky breath before standing tall. “….I accept both marriage proposals of my Lords.”

The men’s bewildered expressions were expected, just like the dismay in their voices. “Both of our—…! Surely you don’t mean that—” Gojo was the first to speak, silver brows screwed with confusion.

“I do.” A deep breath before you answered him. “I will only accept the proposals of both you and Lord Sukuna.”

The demon took one thunderous step, the vibrations crawling up your bones. “And just why is that?”

You exhale through your nostrils, chewing on your bottom lip. “Understand that I am humbly flattered by your perspectives — it fills me with gladness to know I can be hospitable to my dear friends again…As you both mentioned, I, too, cherish the two of you profoundly, and my trust for you two will never be extinguished. To be asked for my hand by either of you is an honor I’ll forever appreciate….But I cannot choose one over the other.”

“Bullshit,” Sukuna folds his upper arms, the lower resting on his hips. “You can; you just choose not to.”

“No, I care for you both, and choosing one alone would have people hurt. Both between us three and the people of this continent…” You maintain eye contact with both lords while your hands fidget with your nightgown to ease yourself. “A rivalry is happening between the Eastern and Northern fronts; blood’s already been spilled and soaking Tengen’s soil. If I were to choose one proposal, I can’t be guaranteed that this onslaught of violence will cease. Or, would either of you guarantee that you wouldn’t take the life of the other?”

That question had the two royals look at each other briefly, followed by their scowls and groans. Gojo is the next to speak, “What happens between us shouldn’t concern you, my princess.”

“You’re wrong; it concerns me tremendously. It is a concern that’s been eating me alive, watching my allies – my friends – fight each other on the sidelines, refusing to pick a side with my father. Now, you two come here, bend your knees, hold my hands, and ask for my hand, silently requesting my involvement for more bodies to drop like flies under my reign?… No, I would not find rest from this night forward, knowing that more innocent lives plummet from my answer.”

“It wouldn’t be blood on your hands.”

“…But it would be blood that I paint with my very shadow.”

The response sounded foreign to him, yet you stood tall, making sure your heart didn’t falter with your stance. Silence welcomes the three figures again, an old friend that goes well with the tense atmosphere. Two pairs of red observe you, like cerulean orbs that stay on your appearance.

A few seconds go by, and Gojo screws his eyes shut. “So, that’s it, you accept both proposals.”

A curt nod. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Your final decision?”

“Correct.”

The snow-haired man nodded aimlessly, slouched with a large sigh, turned, and headed for your bed to flop face down — like it was his bed. “Haaaaaah, you are your father’s kid, all right,” you could make out his words even with his face in your sheets. “A pacifist heart.”

“Hmph, such a dumbass reason,” Sukuna huffs with absolute annoyance, and you’re amazed he hasn’t already skinned you and Gojo. “You are not a child anymore. You can’t possibly be serious about taking up two husbands for the sake of peace.”

“You’re right: I am no child, for I’ve never been as serious as I am now.” Look at you, sticking up for yourself in the presence of the demon king. Although, you know he can hear the quiver in your voice trying to crawl out. You swallow, “It’s either both of you or nothing at all.”

His left eyes squint as they examine your features, the mouth on his belly gritting its teeth. “Tsk, both or nothing…Meanwhile, you know I can’t be in the same room with him. Not even Tengen could command me to share you with this brat.”

Gojo swifts on the covers to lie on his back. “Finally, something I can agree with the devil himself. He’s right, though; there are many things in my life I would rather not share with anyone — you being the top of my list.”

You take their concerns with patience and a lifted chin. “I understand you both, but if you two can’t let the fog clear and talk with each other, how can I see myself—“

“Let the fog clear?” Sukuna repeats with furrowed eyebrows. “Sorcerers came into my land and ransacked my villages — sorcerers from this bastard’s empire!”

“An action that validates your anger and course of action,” you remind yourself to take tiny breaths. “…However, Satoru didn’t order the attack himself; they went against procedure and stormed your country with poor judgment.”

The tall demon rolls all of his eyes and clicks his teeth. “Ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ‘ridiculous’ is how you fail to acknowledge why those sorcerers went to your zone.” Gojo’s turn to interpolate. “One of the noble sorcerers and his company died because of your demon folk invading my country without permitted passage. That noble had a family, students that followed his footsteps—“

“Are you saying my people didn’t have kin of their own to return to, Gojo Satoru?”

“Your people sure kill like they don’t—“ Another swipe of Sukuna’s fingers glid the air; this time, Gojo’s Infinity was on guard, ricocheting the cleave to mark a scratch on one of the curtains. “Hah, just like their leader.”

Sukuna flexes his knuckles to crack, black fingernails appearing sharper. “The demons who killed that sorcerer acted on their own accord. Just like the many men of your land who came to mine, whom I corrected for your lack of oversight.”

“Then allow me to fulfill my mistake,” the silver-haired man’s eyes glow. “And let me kill the demons responsible — just like you did to my men, fucking cretin.”

“Over my dead body, human trash.”

“My Lords!” The men concurrently exchange their gazes back to you. “This is why I will not be accepting either proposal solely. You come to my home to ask for my hand because you see me as of value, correct? Well, you both are people I care deeply for, and the thought of walking beside either of you for eternity is something I’d accept unmistakably under different circumstances…But, please acknowledge my position in all of this: I am the princess of an extraordinary continent and heir to the throne after my father, a man who has maintained peace and harmony all these years. Now, that peace is hanging on the brink of death and will soon be a matter I should issue alone, and the men who’ve grown with me and cherish me combating each other until one stands tall….or none stand at all.”

Word spilled after another as if a dam had broken down — fingers jitter even when clasped together. Your throat dries up after every sentence, yet your unwavering resilience pushes you to keep going.

“I’m sorry if what I’m saying or doing is selfish, and…you may be right that I’m going at it with the whims of a child. But, please,” Do not cry, do NOT cry. “Standing idly every passing day watching the men I’ve grown to—“ Love? Isn’t that too intimate of a word to assume? “…treasure kill themselves and others without doing anything wounds me enough. And if you think I can sit here in this palace and watch my intended go far and yonder to kill another person whom I cherish with no guarantee that they will return to me wholly, think twice.”

Your shoulders threaten to tremble; of course, you’re frightened beyond belief by what you’re saying. But you’re sure if she was here, Utahime would pull you in for a hug and acclaim how well you’re following her counsel.

“Please, I just…can’t bear it.”

Uncomfortable muteness gnaws you alive within the muteness of your room. You’re bound to draw blood on your bottom lip with how much you’re chewing it. If only your father were awake in this hour, his guidance at a moment like this would be beneficial, or merely observing from afar how you’re managing would give you some hope. Alas, you know he’s in deep sleep halls away. It’s just the three of you in this space — or just you versus the huge opposing auras thick enough to be slit by Sukuna’s cleaves.

Speaking of whom, the demon king watches you the entire speech. Same with Gojo, whose blue eyes dwindle back to their typical hue. The two men don’t dare break the silence as you stand before them, mentally swimming in thoughts alone to yourself….Well, at least the northern prince wouldn’t dare to do so first because Sukuna initially ripped the stillness to shreds. He says, “And how would your father respond to this feckless plan of accepting two marriage proposals?”

A worthy question to ponder. “…I’m sure he’d come to an understanding once I explain my reasoning,” the belly of the eastern king grumbles. “I’m sure he’d be contended at the fact that his two trusted allies would want to join houses.”

Gojo sits up straight atop your bed. “Well, that sounds all nice and dandy on that front. But, the problem still lies in us acting like…a ‘real couple.’ Face it, princess; you may seem okay with being with us both, but that doesn’t mean we’d be on the same page.”

Sukuna nods curtly. “I’d rather eat every human alive than entertain the thought of someone other than me touching you.”

The other shrugs. “Even if the world’s fate depends on it.”

The men’s grievances are valid arguments for why your plan can backfire, particularly when suggesting a relationship where two people can’t stand each other. What you’re posing is an action that has been practiced before yet isn’t entirely favored in the public eye. Nevertheless, your stance doesn’t change; you refuse to go back on your word, believing that it’s a better alternative to condone than the others. The only tricky part is convincing your childhood friends…

…Which is why what you’re about to do is indubitably unlike you.

“…What are you doing?"

But despite that, it’s a course of action that highlights your determination.

“—Woah!! Princess?! Why are you undressing??!”

Even if it’ll go down as the most downright humiliating thing you’ve done to yourself.

Your nightgown meets the ground of your feet, the cool air wrapping your nude frame with the heat of the fireplace hovering on one side. Arms free of sleeves, nipples easily spotted now with the dismissal of clothing, the region between your lower thighs bare, and delicate skin exposed for only the men in the room to see. And even then, your face doesn’t decline the miserable hotness. Embarrassed? No doubt about it.

“My Lords,” you croak, balled fists muster to contain whatever left of dignity you can. “This form…isn’t meant for any regular eyes to see — an offering only a slim few I’d trust to witness. Tonight, I want you two to see me like this.” You slowly step forward, gradually getting closer to Sukuna’s giant size. “As your princess, I offer my whole to you both, as you are mine…and I am yours.”

Sukuna blinks at your small figure close to his; the intensity of his stare is enough to have your heart sink into a pool of regret. Until he bends to scoop you with his lower arms, you yelp at the sudden action with hands finding his sturdy shoulders to grab. Now, he is way closer than you anticipated, his very chin inches away from brushing your naked chest. Holy shit.

“You are mine, and I am yours?” he lifts his eyebrow. “Was that not true already?” You gulp thickly before answering, daring to cup his cheek with a hesitant hand. Again, you’re surprised to see it still attached, let alone see him lean to your palm.

“You’d have to prove it true — here and now, make this ceaseless battle end by claiming me as yours…You too, Gojo.” You and the demon holding you turn to the man sitting on your bed. The pale skin of his face now harbors shades of pink that cascade across his cheeks and the dip of his ears, expression dumbfounded to what he witnessed. “Demonstrate how serious you are for my hand, or you and Sukuna can leave my room.”

Sky-blue eyes blink absentmindedly, words hard to pick and choose for the human prince in this bizarre minute. Sukuna then speaks with a huff.

“Well, are you going to start moving or what? Because whether you stay or not, your princess will become mine tonight.” He grins before leaning in to lick your skin, and you hold a whine when the mouth of his navel lightly chews on your tummy. “And on the many nights coming after.”

The beast’s words flip a switch, causing Gojo to chuckle and shake his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “Not if I have something to do about it, four-eyes…”

You drew in breath while watching Gojo undress, more of his milky skin stripped out of his clothing, revealing parts of the prince that you could only imagine in your fantasies. Heat flourishes to your ears, and another gasp is pulled out when Sukuna sneaks his free lower hand to cusp your buttcheek. He then brings an upper hand to your chin to face him and his sneer.

“You’ve made this night a whole lot more interesting.”

And that was the last time the sound of the fire cracking caught your attention.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Mmmm…Ahh—Ahhh!!”

“Keh, sure are tight as hell; definitely a virgin.”

“Fuck, I can hear the sounds from here…Oh, fuuck…!”

The sea breeze climbs up to your terrace, crawling into your room to swing the curtains of your canopy. The candles around your room continue to flame and provide light for the room to glow. The scent of lavender and rose from your bath and lotion an hour earlier remains in the air and sticks to your skin. The midnight hour isn’t yet, but the sky is dark enough past the twilight hues.

Expected as the former home of the Great Saint Tengen, the palace is as enormous. Harboring many rooms, halls, and floors for the company of the royal family and their subjects, the castle is unchallenging for a newcomer to get lost inside without a proper guide. Every room is catered to a specific event, person, meeting, or occasion in this place. On top of that, multiple guest chambers are meant for the guests invited under the King’s audience to rest.

…But it seems that Gojo and Sukuna are not retiring for the night anytime soon.

How could they sleep when you’re being a courteous host, letting your childhood friends spend the late hours in your room? Just like when you were young and playmates or learning to master a weapon. The only thing is that these two aren’t the same as two decades ago; they are men, branded with titles and responsibilities, blood already stained their knuckles, and duties hold them to a high expectation that you know all too well.

And, like all men, they have a salacious curiosity only appropriate for the bedroom. An interest you knew would one day be prevalent in your life if you agreed to take either as a husband…Yet, you’re not as prepared on the chance you’d face both realities simultaneously.

All three of you are stationed in your bed, clothes decorating your floor to leave you all bare for each other to see and marvel at — more so on your part. You lie on your back to a giant broad chest and stomach, Sukuna right behind you with his lower arms holding your feet by the back of your knees. Knees spread apart, your naked lower half is out, free for the monster to insert a single thick digit of his left upper hand into your wet chasm while the right fondles your left tit.

Never in your life did you think you were capable of producing such indecent noises. Low whimpers are embarrassing to recollect as the demon king plays with your most tender parts. His big fingers tweak your nipple, and the digit – way thicker than yours – inside your cunt is enough to stretch your opening, wiggling and scratching the inside. Fingering yourself never felt like this, your body experiencing a refreshing sensation you hadn’t known of. And to have the eastern king of all people to bestow this feeling on you brings just as much awe as humiliation.

Nonetheless, that indignity doesn’t cease. Gojo stands on his knees before you, propped between your sunder legs, while his hand strokes an erect limb. Yes, as a virgin maiden, tonight would be the very first time you ever see a living, breathing member, and the northern lord takes that honor with a lustful smile. His solid cock gets stiffer with every jerk, a left curve protruding the more your appearance excites him. To be observed and used as material as your slit is fingered? How lewd!

“Nnnn, ahaahn…” Sukuna’s finger rubs on your velvety surface, your legs wanting to squirm despite the monster’s hold. “Oh Gods…Ohhh!!”

“Damn, you look so good,” Gojo mutters under his breath, precum drizzling his fingertips. “Looks like it feels good, huh, princess?”

“Sure feels like it,” every word that Sukuna utters causes tremors to pass down his abdomen to your back, the very vibrations crawling on your skin like the tongue that licks your back to make you arch. “Hm? Tell us how you really feel, little one.”

The usage of that name causes your vaginal walls to twitch; he has never called you as such, and picking such an intimate time to do so makes your frame feel awkward and warm. “…I-I—fffmm!—don’t know…”

“Hmph, you dare lie to me,” he bends to your ear, and his deep chuckle ignites your stomach to knot itself. “Like your body doesn’t speak for itself, clenching on my finger like you want to snap it off.”

“Th-that’s not—“The graze of your upper wall cuts you off, and your hands struggle to find places to grab, gripping the skin of Sukuna’s thigh and grabbing tuffs of his apricot hair.

The demon king snickers more when his middle finger teases your taint, pressing a kiss on your cheek before a quick bite. “Only one finger in, and you’re already wailing like a common whore; be lucky that I haven’t added another, then you’d really be prepared for me…” You feel something brush up against your back, the tips of Sukuna’s cocks reminding you of his eventual promise.

“Wooow, calling the future heir a whore; must’ve forgotten whose room we’re in.” The white-headed man had something to say about that, satisfyingly ruining the mood for the demonic being.

“They don’t seem to mind, at least their cunt doesn’t,” uncouth cords that speak truth, your vulva squeezing his finger constantly. “Who would’ve thought the beautiful, refined, and compassionate princess,” each enunciated word has consequences that are a lick and bite to your helix. “Was, in fact, a dirty, nasty girl?”

“Holy shit,” Gojo’s hand goes faster, his dick ready with stiffness. The image of you melting under the Fallen Star’s hold is too hot for the young man to witness. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby…”

Sukuna clicks his teeth. “Well, hurry the hell up and do it before I change my mind and fuck them myself.”

“And have them bleeding to death because of your giant dicks on their first time? Fuck that,” He ignores the four rolled eyes as he maneuvers closer to you, Sukuna pulling his finger out of your wet slit and slithering further down to your anus. He coaxes you to relax your tense muscles, pushing his digit into your puckered hole second by second. The gasp you release once it’s added sends shivers up Gojo’s shoulders. “A princess should be treated like a pearl – tended to with the utmost care.”

“Go–jooo…” You whine as the human heir cups your cheeks to squeeze.

“What did I say about using my family name?” He scolds with a cheeky tune, gauging your reaction as he disposes his cockhead to the folds of your vagina.

“…S-Sa—Mmmph!” The push of his pink tip is a new sensation.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He coos, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Relax, just focus on me.” Your eyes lock with his, distracted by the twinkle and swirl of his azure irises, like a whirlpool sinking into the darkness of his dilated pupil. “What’s my name, cutie?”

“Saaa…Sato—Ohhh!!” And just like that, the tip of his limb enters inside, bypassing your knowledge until the wince of pain snaps you out of your distraction. “…to’ruu…”

His teeth glisten under her grin. “That’s my good girl.”

Gojo keeps propelling himself inside you, gradually shoving every inch of his lengthy girth. You bite your quivering lip at the stretch of your opening, accommodating the foreign body part burrowing inside your inner channel. The left curve of his has his penis rubbing on parts of yourself you hadn’t thought possible; a graze of your G-spot causes your legs to quirk and toes to curl.

But then, once his silverish pubes meet your outer labia, he reaches the depth of your cervix and gives it a chaste kiss. And your frame suddenly shuts down briefly, your senses running cold before you cry aloud without knowing. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, but the damage is too late.

Sukuna raises a brow. “What a shout.” He then uses your reaction to add another digit into your ass.

“Ahhhh, there it is,” Gojo swallows thickly, hips speaking for themselves as they sway. “That was cute as hell–the way you twitch feels so good…” Another poke to your cervix, and your legs can’t help but wrap around Gojo’s waist.

“Satoru, please…!” You plead with knitted eyebrows. “Pleasee, be gentle with me…”

Blue eyes narrow. “God, who told you to be so adorable?” Gojo angles down to your face, his nose mere centimeters to yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll treat you right tonight…Hmmm.”

The man leans in to place his lips on your forehead before his own, and the pace of his thrusts quickens to mediocrity. The rubs on your silky texture become frequent, lightly pounding his shaft into your to till his testes knock your chasm, the whimpers you try to repress boost to a louder volume. His left curve spikes up your nerves with every push and pull, easing the itching heat that permeates around your lower half.

Hands writhe around to calm around Gojo’s cold back; you say his name in prayers. You can feel something coming, and if he keeps rutting to you like this, it’s bound to come earlier than expected. “—Nnaaa, Sat’ruuu, w-wait!! I can’t—Ahaann!!”

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…” He doesn’t listen, too lost in your warmth and wetness that he can’t stop. The flex of his abs increases, plunging into your pussylips desperately as if he can sense the eventual you fear.

“T-Toruu, wait, go slooww!!” Words mean nothing, hips not declining in their needing cadence. Oh Gods, I can feel it; it’s coming! Nerves climb to a peak way too fast for your comprehension, nails digging into Gojo’s skin before your orgasm hits you, choked squeaks leaving puffy lips as your cunt contracts around the prince’s girth and your asshole clamping around Sukuna’s fingers.

And Gojo is right there experiencing your climax with you, moaning under his breath and pressing his forehead to yours before he completely melts under the fluttering motions of your genitalia. “—Mmfff, ffffshit, so tight…!” He can’t stop thrusting into you, moving his pelvis slowly to draw out the sensation before he sinks into a crescendo of his own. “Fuuck! Yeah, cutie, that’s right; ride it out,” he snaps an abrupt drill to your aching entrance. “Ride it out…”

Sukuna scoffs lightly before whispering in your ear. “Done already, human?” Patronizing attitude to make you fidget. “Better be ready for me still.”

“Ehhh, but I’m not done here.” The snow-haired man retorts, massaging your waist out of the quakes.

A thread snaps in the wake of the other’s words, and Sukuna’s lack of patience drives him to push you and Gojo off of him. The two of you roughly position to where you are essentially straddling Gojo, his erection still inside your slick-coated cavern. The devilish man swiftly ends up on his knees before contorting his massive figure to dwarf both humans beneath him.

“Gahhh!! Sukuna, what the fuck w—Mmmph?!?” With the spawn of a mouth, the eastern king shuts the northern man up by slamming his upper left hand onto his mouth for an unexpected kiss. Gojo muffles under the other’s palm, the tongue shoving itself inside.

“Shut up,” Sukuna orders with annoyance. “So damn chatty…And you,” he uses his lower hands to steady your ass, and you stifle a yelp at the contact of something pressing up against the opening of your butt. “Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad.”

His warning is enough to keep you immobile, following his instructions and stationing your breathing to a steady rhythm. Your hands-on Gojo’s chest ball to fists once Sukuna pushes his tip to your asshole, your mouth forming a permanent ‘o’ shape once he eventually gets the cockhead inside. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more extreme, you had forgotten about the taller individual’s well-endowed self: two hefty, girthy limbs that you NEVER, in your wildest dreams, imagine would put inside your body — not even one!

However, tonight was the night that would be put to the test, and at the very least, Sukuna compromised, using one of his members to ravage your interior while the other skims the crevice of your asscheecks. He goes excruciatingly slow; rather than just ramming the entire thing in one go, it’s better. Gods, no, you’d be shedding more tears than you already are. Every inch that’s plunged inside you pushes out shaky breaths, sobbing from the intrusion and bits of drool slowly escaping you.

“Daahhnn, ohmyG—Nnnm!!” It’s finally all in, all swallowed up by the ridge of your bottom. You call to him, “S-Sukunaa…fuull, so fuulll…”

“I bet you are.” He adds more weight, scrunching down, making it worse by caging you under his bow. Sukuna grinds his hips, which evoke sharp cries, “Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

The salmon-haired behemoth rocks his enormous hips, the propulsion strong enough to rock you and Gojo concurrently. This time, unlike the northern man under you, Sukuna’s movements exude dominance; from his firm grip on your waist to the confident pull of his hips, everything he does is marked with a purpose. You can tell by how his big, weighty balls smack on your sexed union with Gojo.

Speaking of whom, the polar royal subsists in the kiss with Sukuna’s hand. Yet as the seconds turn to a minute, his expression morphs into a less perturbed display. Instead of fighting it, he kisses back with the palm and bucks his hips into you. The action of his cock rubbing on the sweet spots of your vagina while the one carves and churns your butthole and the other glides on your crack grinds your brain to turn into mush. Your nerves have yet to calm down from the prior orgasm, senses overloaded with constant commotion going on in your private parts.

Sukuna’s pushes become quicker and mightier, and the more he ruts, the more your clit grinds onto Gojo’s pelvis, sending shocks straight to your head. There’s no room for rest…! “—Ohhh, hooooh’Kunaaa, Kunaa, pleaseee…!”

“‘Please, please,’ please what?” He mocks you, knowing you’re powerless to reprimand him in this predicament. “Just whining and whining like a bitch in heat; have you no shame, princess?”

“Ohhh, I’m gonna—shtoooop!!” He licks your ear as you moan aloud, steamy tears striking down your hot cheeks. The pace increases, and so does the swipe of your clit and the bump of your womb. “Ohhhfuck, fuck, fuckfuuuuck…!!”

“Kehaha, look at you; the poor princess finally breaks their poised picture,” dark, pleased chuckles seep out of the demon king’s lips, biting onto your shoulder harshly to make you scream. And judging by him licking your added wound, you’re sure he drew blood.

“Ahhsshh—ohmyGod, ohmyGod!! S’kuna, don’t!!” Desperate pleads slur out. “I’m gonna break; y’re gonna break meee…!!!”

“Good, I want you to be broken,” he sneers as his upper right arm pushes you to face him. “Break for me; think of nothing else other than being mine. Right now, your mind, body, and soul are mine to torment and tear apart. You are my little dove, small and easy to break from now till your dying breath. Am I clear, pet?”

Scared? Of course. The way his scarlet orbs bore holes into your very being had you petrified; he doesn’t need his hellish aura and brawny hands that can snap a tree in half to assimilate fear into your heart. Witnessing the true power of the King of Demons with just his stare, nothing scarier than that…And yet, your anus and chasm can’t stop squeezing like crazy.

“…Yess, my Lord,” you croak, his finger wiping the saliva on his fingertip. “I am your pet from this—nnmm!!—this moment until the…very last.”

Anxiety doesn’t diminish when he broadens a devilish smile, but it transforms into perplexity once he slams his lips onto yours—your first kiss, taken by the eastern King, along with the chastity of your rear hole. And there’s Gojo, who is the very man who has taken claim of your virginity. Two men, your childhood companions, taking your firsts! Tonight, indeed, is marked down as an eventful occasion for you.

You sink into the passionate kiss, your tiny tongue swirling around with Sukuna’s, his fangs grazing the muscle teasingly before he nibbles on it to hear you shrill for him. All the while, his hips go erratic, motivating Gojo to increase his tempo. The feverish rhythm leaves you breathless, crying in the company of lust and rapture to the point that you’ve become numb. Your vision becomes blurry, your head foggy, and the air between you three misty. Noises of skin smacking onto each is all you hear, drowning you further into another spazz you couldn’t adequately foretell.

Gojo and Sukuna chase their climaxes together after your walls quirk and spasm uncontrollably, letting their fluids burst inside to fill your holes to the very brim. You howl in Sukuna’s mouth, who chews on your bottom lip roughly, same with Gojo’s with the palm before snatching his hand away. The snowy-headed man huffs and pants, nearly choking on spit as his midsection flexes with every jerk of his ejaculation. And the giant above you groans while rutting into your ass, not stopping until his high passes through, the free girth ejecting semen to paint across your sweaty back.

For a few seconds, it’s utterly hot and cold at the same time, your figure trembling with the acute shocks coursing through your bones. Eyes roll to the roof of your canopy, and limbs wobble and give way for you to slump after Sukuna releases you from his breathtaking kiss. Luckily, Gojo is there to catch you, the comely noble attending to you with kisses to your temple.

“Look what you did,” he spits to his left, wanting to rid his mouth of whatever remnants Sukuna left with that disgusting kiss. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you wanted to break them.”

“Hmph, don’t ever take me for a liar,” the demonic man stretches after withdrawing his length out of your butt, chortling at the sight of his essence sticking to you. “Oi, dove, you hear me?”

“Princess, you all right…?”

Whatever words the two were saying to you had begun to fade away despite their proximity. Your eyelids refuse to fight the urge to close, and your skin allows the cold breeze to blanket you. Everything goes black, your breathing returns to balance, and the sound of the fire cracking comes back to sing you to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“My Lady, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Huh?” You snap out of being zoned out for the sixth time today. Your vision is now present with the gazebo view, the ocean glistening from the morning sun in the distance, contrasting with the beautiful greenery of your garden. Many flowers of different shapes and sizes, various colors painted on top of the veins and roots separated from the yellow brick road coursing around it.

You sit at the gazebo for your morning tea; it’s part of your morning routine after a nice bath and Utahime helping you pick what to wear for the day. Usually, when you sit here, you admire the tranquil sounds of the outside space and the sweet taste of your hot beverage.

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…”

“Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad…Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

Memories from last night flash one after the other, ringing your ears with nothing but the erotic noises and voices from the night before. Your cheeks dial in warmth, recollecting the senses of having both men — your childhood friends — so intimately close to you. The hotness of their breath touching your skin, the wet, teasing licks of the tongue from Sukuna’s stomach, Gojo’s slender fingers swiping and pinching your clitoris as he sucks on your nipple, and Sukuna using one of his arms to restrain your hands behind your back as he uses two others to keep your hips still to hammer your holes with his girth.

“Princess…” the way Gojo says your name, your stomach flips to the smooth tone of his voice. His striking blue eyes survey your expression like you’re his lost treasure. His hard body meshing together with your sweaty, soft figure is a sensation you’ll probably never forget…

“Princess…” Sukuna, with his red eyes and demonic face structure, put you in a paralysis spell, and his intimidating aura suffocates you to submit to his gaze and hold. Under his bow, you felt as though you were nothing but his and his alone. And you can’t tell if that is scary or intriguing…

“…—dy Lady….MY LADY!!”

“Y–Yes!?” Your attention swerves to reality, Utahime’s face mere inches from yours. Her brown eyes filled with worrisome confusion, scanning your expression.

“What on Tengen’s Earth is going on with you?” She says with a sigh, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough rest last night? Tsk, it must’ve been Lord Sukuna and that blue-eyed jerk. My apologies, my Lady. I hope their intrusion didn’t keep you awake for too long.”

You shake your head to your best friend. “No need to apologize, Utahime. And it’s all right; the Lords didn’t give me too much trouble.”

She gives a nod to your response, observing you picking up your teacup and taking a sip before setting it back down gently. “Still, I find it odd that both lords wished to see you so late at night. At the same time, too…If you don’t mind me asking, my Lady, what did they wish to speak with you?”

Again, she is your best friend, so you can trust her with the information you’re about to give. “…Apparently, both Lord Sukuna and Lord Gojo wish to have my hand in marriage—“

“MARRIAGE!!??”

“Shhhh!!” With haste, you stand from the table to cover your lady-in-waiting’s mouth from uttering another word. You swiftly survey the entire garden to see if anyone from the castle heard the shout. Luckily, it was just the two of you. “Please, Utahime, not so loud.”

The woman with her mouth covered blinks once, twice, before giving an assured mod for you to release her lips. She now speaks in whispers with you, “My apologies. But…marriage??”

“I know, it surprised me, too. It seems my father gave them his blessings to ask for my hand. It could be for the sake of our families and relations or to strengthen the bond of our empires to maintain the powerhouse that is our continent.”

“Mmm, those are valid reasons to consider, especially after the Great War, and that the bond of the three empires would give a good message…Or perhaps, did the Lords wish to wed you for more personal reasons?”

They did. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead, all you could do was think about their proposals from last night. The way they both stood on one knee and took two hands. Gojo’s eyes never looked so sincere and soft when looking at you, placing his soft lips on your left ring finger to gently kiss it. He looked like his princely self. But that night, he showed the caring and soothing cadence you had fallen in love with all these years. And Sukuna, oh Lord. Never did you think you’d live to witness the day this giant being before you took a knee for anyone – especially for you. Your right hand easily dwarfed in his grasp, brought to his lips that you’d only ever dream to have touch you. And those piercing eyes of his, red like blood, examining every single feature of yours as if you were the thing that made him strong yet weak. It was subtle, something only meant for your eyes to see. But most of all, it was genuine.

“…That might be it, as well.” You mutter under your breath, your cheeks becoming warm while reminiscing the scenes to yourself.

However, your chambermaiden was no fool at all. She could tell from your wandering gaze that something, in fact, did happen between the three royals that night. She lifted a brow at your response, “I think that is the case, seeing as though you’re trying to hide the smile from me.”

You squeak, immediately facing in her direction, seeing the foxy grin on her beautiful, scarred face. “I’m smiling?”

“Aha!” Oh no, I fell for it. “Gotcha! Oh my, it seems my Lady is having troubles with the heart. Could it be you are considering the marriage proposals?”

“W–Well…I don’t know myself,” it was an honest answer; you didn’t know the answer yourself. “The matter caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting either of them to come to my quarters, let alone propose to me on the night of their arrival—“

“That’s not my question, my princess.” You gulp when she cuts you off, Utahime narrowing her feline eyes as she speaks. “It made you incredibly nervous that the three of you would be here at the same place, thinking those two would go at each other’s throats. Now, two Lords still stand, asking for you to be by their side, and you can barely keep a straight face. If you ask for my piece, I’m relieved they came here with the thoughts of marriage rather than spark up talk of another war in this continent.”

You hum along to your maiden's words, taking in her reasoning. Yet she continues, “And judging by how fidgety you appear to be on this fine morning, something tells me you’re on the fence of accepting. Who will take my Lady’s hand? Lord Ryomen? Gojo? Ugh. If it’s the latter, I’ll only deal with him for your happiness. And Lord Ryomen, oh my. Being the spouse to the most powerful beast of Holy Tengen's continent , it’s something out of a fairy—“

“Utahime, calm down!” You stop the lady from her excitement bubbling into something substantial. You can tell she’s itching to plan your wedding – whenever that be – once your tea time is finished. “I…I didn’t accept their proposals, not yet.”

The dark-haired woman drops her jaw; how unfortunate it is for you to lie to your best friend. “What do you mean!? You didn’t? Then how come you three were discussing for such a long time? I saw Lord Gojo return to his quarters in the middle of the night, and I figured it was because you all had an in-depth discussion.” You open your mouth, but your words are caught on the back of your tongue. You couldn’t formulate a proper excuse or lie in time. Because of that hesitation, Utahime’s brows draw upward with wide eyes, her mouth changing into a small “o” shape. It was at that moment that you realized you dug yourself a grave.

“Princess,” her voice was still hushed, speaking slowly as if not to jump so hard to her assumptions. “…What exactly were you doing with Lord Satoru and Ryomen?”

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!!”

Saved by another voice entering the fray, you and your lady-in-waiting turn around to see another person coming to the garden, running down the brick road to your destination. As they came closer, you could tell from the bright blue hair and uneven bangs that it was Utahime’s apprentice, the lower-status handmaiden Kasumi Miwa. Your lady-in-waiting was the first to correct her before getting closer, “Maiden Miwa! I’ve told you about running so freely around the castle. What if you were to bump into someone?” When Miwa is in the presence of the two of you, she’s huffing and puffing. “And stand up straight!”

“Eek! Sorry, Lady Iori, but I come bearing news for the princess!” Miwa fixes her posture and messy blue hair while trying to situate her breaths steadily. “Princess, I’m here to tell you that Lords Sukuna Ryomen and Satoru Gojo wish to speak with you!”

Huh??!! “Pardon??”

“Yes, they wish to discuss their proposals with you from last night. At least, that’s what they told me…Oh, there they are!”

“Miwa, shhhh, don’t point!”

You pay no mind to your chambermaid lecturing her young student because your eyes follow the brick pathway up to the castle steps where two figures stand. Sukuna and Gojo stand at the entranceway to the garden, both wearing their respective clothing. Not that it matters, though, because the memories from last night with your nude bodies being connected still haunt your senses. And now they’re here, big grins on their faces that share the same reason. They know, and they know that you know. Who knew that such a night full of unexpected passion and heat would happen to you and with your closest friends since your little years, who have grown to become such strong, handsome, and powerful men.

Perhaps this was the union you’ve wished for — the union that could finally bring you three back together…Perhaps.

“…Tell them that I’m available to speak.”

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innieirving · 1 month ago

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like, okay, i'm sure this scene has been talked about and dissected to pieces already in this fandom but. BUT. i need to put my two cents in or i will explode.

so, your lord and best friend has just admitted to you that if you die, he will be so beside himself with grief that he might just die too.

the game then gives you THIS option in response.

and you, the player, know how video games work. you know this is the press x for romance button. you expect henry to admit his feelings—a culmination of all the hints he's dropped from the heart options we've chosen before—and kiss him as soon as the button's been pressed.

except henry doesn't kiss hans.

instead, henry places his hand on hans' hand. it's the first moment of physical contact between them in the whole scene...but it's not a kiss. it's gentle. it's intimate. it's tiptoeing the line between comforting a friend and something more...

...but henry leaves it at that. and he gets up and goes to leave.

and in that moment of panic. in that split second of 'this might be the last time i'll ever see you again, please don't go' — it's hans that kisses henry.

and it's henry who pushes hans away.

this is—for all intents and purposes—the opposite of what we, the player, chose.

and to add insult to injury, henry looks conflicted.

he looks SO conflicted that hans believes he's fucked up royally.

that he has completely tarnished their final moments together by acting on impulse—by giving into temptation and desperation and feelings he can't even put into his own words—and henry must be disgusted by him.

and hans believes this because he watches henry turn his back to him. refusing to look at him. and head for the door.

but henry stops before he opens it. and i keep thinking back to the heart option we chose.

the player is not making the choice for henry to kiss hans. we are not forcing his hand.

the player is reminding henry what he's been telling himself throughout the entire game.

don't run away, henry.

kiss him. kiss him back.

so henry does.

#kingdom come deliverance #kcd2 #hansry #kcd2 spoilers #hans capon #henry of skalitz #meta #kcd2 meta #video game #my gifs #my post #HI HELLO I COULD WRITE WHOLE ESSAYS ABOUT THIS SCENE #IM LOSING MY GOD DAMN MARBLES #SOMEONE NEEDS TO SEDATE ME #ive seen a few people mention the heart option contradicting what henry does in this moment so i had to expand upon it IMMEDIATELY #i apologize for this long ass post but i HAD to include the gifs as examples lol #was this just an excuse for me to gif this scene? a little bit #am i also here to spread my wavy hair and bearded henry agenda? a little bit

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goddamnitmahtin · 3 months ago

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Danny’s Designer Friend

Okay so hear me out. Danny jumps universes a lot right? It’s a part of running errands for Clockwork. He may be the Ghost king but since he was Clockwork’s mentee at the same time, he had to run time errands sometimes. It took him to some really interesting places.

Some places had magic, some didn’t. Some had heroes that used their own devices and some had heroes that used magical artifacts to manifest abilities. Some didn’t have heroes at all. Some universes had lots of technology and some were working to catch up. And obviously, Danny had his favorites. And he had his favorite people from each.

So…. Danny had an idea.

…

Bruce looked around suspiciously, alert to any dangers that may be in the area. He and all of his children were on duty when all of a sudden he ended up in a modern mansion of sorts with an indoor waterfall.

“What in the world-?” He heard Tim say as Red Robin appeared as well.

“Oi-!” from a surprised Spoiler as she appeared.

Sword slashing noises as Robin appeared, apparently trying to slice the air, “What is this trickery!”

Next Duke in his pajamas and Nightwing appeared, landing on top of one another. “Get your sweaty ass off me,” Bruce heard his son say as he pushed his older brother off of him.

“GUYS!” Oracle called as she fell. She had teleported in but her chair didn’t seem to have come with her. Red Robin and Spoiler caught her just in time.

Orphan appeared silently.

Then Oracle’s wheelchair popped in, dropping onto Signal just as he had stood up. “Oh come on!” he exclaimed as a post it note apology appeared on his forehead. Presumably for forgetting the chair.

Lastly, Red Hood appeared, guns out and ready to fire. That is, if only he had anything to fire at. He quickly put them away once he realized it was only the bats and birds. The others wouldn’t have noticed it but behind his helmet, Jason was wide eyed, noticing the post it note. He only knew of two entities that used that form of communication and one meant something significantly better than the other.

After a few moments of Red Robin and Spoiler helping Oracle into her chair, footsteps could be heard approaching. Everyone tensed, ready for a fight. Except Red Hood who could feel his core tugging at him familiarly.

Two people approached. First person they were able to see was Danny. He had decided to show up in his kingly glory, his ceremonial cloak billowing behind him. As he got closer, they could see a very short woman with black hair and round glasses smoking a cigarette walking with him. Despite Danny being a king, she was the one in charge.

The woman walked up to the group with a judgmental look, “Every one of you. When I point, you tell me your title and occupation. Go.”

Nobody said anything.

“You guys better do what she says,” said Danny chuckling. Their faces so far were hilarious.

Slowly, the family obliged, starting with Red Hood.

“I go by Red Hood. I’m a crime lord. And a vigilante I guess,” Jason said. He knew enough to know they weren’t in any danger.

The others followed along until finally it got to Bruce, “I’m Batman. Vigilante.”

The short woman scoffed and immediately started pointing out the flaws in everyone’s outfits, “You all look ridiculous! What is that, bunny ears? And you! Red, green and yellow are far too many colors! You look like a traffic light! You! Those shoes are impractical and appalling! Do any of you know what style is?!”

She walked up to Duke, “I have seen photos of your suit and it is disgusting! Too bright!”

She gestured wildly to the group, “And NO CAPES!”

The woman then went up to Red Hood, “You are perfect darling, practical and filled with personality. You are my favorite.”

Danny chuckled, “He’s my favorite too.” The king shot a knowing smirk to Jason who under his helmet blushed from the comment.

“I am designing you all new suits right away!” the woman exclaimed with a wild look in her eye.

Danny couldn’t help but start laughing at this point. The looks on everyone’s faces were pure gold. This was the best idea he had literally ever had.

“I can’t wait to see it Edna. I can pay for it too,” the king said, sneaking a glance at Red Hood, “Anything for future in-laws.”

#dcxdp #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dc x dp crossover #batfam #dc x dp x incredibles #edna mode #NO CAPES #dead on main #ghost king danny #danny fenton #bewildered Batfam #I have no idea what Edna’s redesigns would look like but they would probably kick ass

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cheer-nympho · 5 months ago

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Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.

Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,

But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,

Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?

He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.

When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.

Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.

“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.

And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.

This court jester is really fucking hot.

He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.

Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.

An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’

He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.

He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”

Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.

“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.

He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”

“It certainly makes an impression-“

“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”

“Steve is fine.”

“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”

“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”

“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.

So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.

Then out of nowhere… “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”

He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.

“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.

“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.

Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.

Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?

But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.

The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.

Shit.

He forgot to watch the fucking hands.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #mini fic #my writing #fic #ren faire #prompt #as in feel free to write a bigger fic with this idea

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lufyuu · 10 months ago

Text

,,The Verdict''

Dragon Judge x Criminal male reader

Tw/s: abuse of power, corruption, rough dom, somewhat dubcon (?), breeding, mating, claiming, mentions of getting reader pregnant, marking, double stuffing, brat taming-ish, mentions of blood (reader biting his own lip & scratching)

Goddamnit. God fucking damnit.

You could've gotten away with it if it weren't for the judge's sharp eyes in noticing you sprinting away from the scene of the crime. It wasn't as if you weren't trying to hide either— you were in the dark, how could he had even notice! Unfortunately, your days of being known as the mysterious serial killer are now over as you stand in court, face to face with the families of your victims. Fuck.

You turn to look at the infamous judge or lord, a title given by the public to him. He has been and is still shrouded in mystery. His intimidating gaze is a sufficent warning to make people look away and abandon any thought of discovering more about him. He is known to be a very neutral and cold judge. Having been around this exact courthouse for 20 years, he seems to have never aged, staying forever in his prime. With a face and body like his, who wouldn't want a taste? Unfortunately, the ones who did shoot their shots were rejected in the most humbling way possible. They wouldn't even disclose it due to embarrassment. How this man came to be is still a mystery to the public. Not even people who work close to him can discover his origins. He is the one whom citizens claim to possess abilities one couldn't explain. Due to all the reasons stated above, the people tend to believe in whatever he says. Whatever the judge says, goes around here.

And there he is, right before your very eyes with court ending very soon you can assume. His expression is as calm as can be. Even when a serial killer such as yourself stands infront of him. His demanding presence commanding everyone to pay attention as the trial proceeds. Honestly, you should've been thrown in jail at this point, you've admitted to the crime already, what is the point of this trial?

"Mr [L. Name], is it true you commited these acts of manslaughter?", he turns his head towards you, gazing into your soul almost. You look up at him, gazing back with uncaring and bored eyes, "yes", a simple and clear answer. The entire courtroom is silent, the air is tense. You can feel eyes burning into your back, the cries of your victims' relatives satisfy you enough for you to let a fleeting smile spread on your face, disgusting everyone and anyone who notices. "Before we conclude this trial, the court will hear from the victims' families. Please step forward now if you have anything you would like to say to the defendant.", as the judge says this, many, many people came to the stance to have a word or two. Despite all this, his gaze settled on you, never leaving your figure.

You look at the family member infront of you. The sister of the first victim you had took the life of. You can't be bothered to remember his name though. "You fucking monster, how could you even do that to anyone let alone MULTIPLE PEOPLE!?", her tears eventually caught up with her, hiccuping as she stutters on her next few words which you drown out with thoughts of what to have for your first meal in prison. Not a single bone in your body feels guilty for the crimes you have commited. For the pain you have caused your victims' families.

With nine of the ten family members having said what they wanted and you drowning them out, it was time for the last one. This particular guy you can recall, Jason Williams, the brother of the victim you had dated. In the middle of his heartbreaking speech, he came closer to you and slapped you real hard. Your whole head turned 45° degrees due to the impact on your cheek. You look back with a hand on your cheek, amused almost. "Couldn't even hold back, no wonder your sister hated you", your expression showed no remorse, almost mocking him in a sense, which tipped him off even more. Fortunately for you, before he could do anything more physical, the judge butted in on the whole 'fight'. "Order in the court!", his deep and commanding voice caught the attention of everyone in the vicinity. He continues his command, "Quin, please remove the parties involved and restore order in the courtroom", Quin, the bailiff, immediately goes to de-escalate the situation by asking Jason to step back and that justice would be served. With a final glare, Jason steps back, not wanting to look at you anymore.

With everything out of the way, you glance back at the judge who seems to still be looking at you. "We will take a break to allow all parties to collect themselves before the sentencing. Court will pick up where we left in 20 minutes." And with those words, the audience and prosecution walked out of the room, including you who was escorted out by several guards to a secure room to ensure you wouldn't escape.

The room itself is rather simple and basic. Nothing out of the ordinary really. An air vent, an ac, thick walls and a sofa. At least it's comfortable.

Just 5 minutes into your relaxing, you hear a knock on the door. You don't get up as it's pointless seeing how they've locked it from the outside. You merely open your eyes and await whoever's beyond the door to come in. The moment the door opens, you are surprised to see an important figure walk in. "Oh? Lord, uh...", you try to recall his name, but to no avail, you've never cared to remember names other than your own. "Liu Zihao", "huh?", you raise an eyebrow at the sudden sound, "my name", he looks down at your laying body. Something in you decided it's best for you to sit up instead of laying down. Getting up from your comfortable position, you cross your legs and arms. "So what are you here for? To cuss me out like all the others?", you ask, not even sparing him a glance, even yawning a bit and closing your eyes in hopes he'd go away soon. Without saying another word, he gets closer to you. When you reopen your eyes, he's right in front of you. You get a bit jumpy and try to throw a fist at him, which he catches with ease.

Your fingers are eventually intertwined with his as he presses down one hand on the cushion right next to you. Your expression is conflicted. Your fight or flight insticts have kicked in, yet you almost tremble at his presence. You don't know what it is about him that makes you almost tremble. "Hm", he lets out a hum of curiosity and lets go of your hand, turning his heels and walking out the simple room. Leaving you in the room all alone once more as the door lock clicked.

"What the fuck was that for", you ask to nobody in particular seeing as you're alone. You look at your palm which had touched his a moment ago, finding nothing out of the ordinary despite a strange sensation enveloping it earlier on. Not thinking much of it, you plop back to your lazy laying position you were in before and doze off for a few minutes before being roughly woken up and taken to court once more.

"Ahem, Court is back in session. We will now proceed with the final verdict.", judge Liu announces to everyone as they hold hands with one another, having hope that justice would be served and you'd finally be out of the streets where you could potentially spot another target. You are told to rise from your hard seat. "After careful consideration of the evidence and arguments presented to the court, I hereby declare that the defendant, Mr [Name] [L. Name], is found guilty of the charges brought against him.", with that sentencing, you weren't surprised at all. You admitted to everything, and there was sufficient proof once you pointed them out. But of course, Zihao still had to continue his obligatory speech. "The crimes you have committed warrant a punishment which has never been given to a criminal such as yourself ever before.", this got you intrigued. You were sure you'd face the death penalty or even life in prison, but now that the judge has said those words, your mind begins to race through countless possibilities.

"Therefore, [Name] [L. Name] shall be personally punished and re-educated under my direct supervision."

What.

What did he just say?

You could hear for a split second the audience behind you start to whisper amongst each other but those are drowned out by your thoughts of confusion and shock. What did he mean by that? What could he want to do with you? He's unpredictable. There'd be no way anyone would agree with him—

"Court is adjurned.", Zihao stands up, indicating the session has ended. He moves his attention to the bailiff, "please escort [Name] [L. Name] to my headquarters.", Quin nods in obedience as he strode towards your still shocked and confused state. "Do not resist.", he lets out a warning and takes you to the judge's headquarters. You can hear the audience and victims' families cheer as justice has been served. Your punishment shall be served by the one and only judge, making this all the more exciting. What judge Liu says, goes.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

All you remember is being escorted into a special carriage with black curtains. As the carriage carried on, you couldn't do anything, not even looking out the windows due to the curtains. Though, you did feel the road being very bumpy. It almost felt like hours before you finally arrive at the judge's headquarters.

When you first step through the doors, you take note of the high ceilings and extravagant interior. You walk further into the manor-like building, noticing even more details along the way. The walls seemed to have been carved as if this was once a victorian era castle. It looked very clean. upon closer inspection, you notice symbols of which you don't recognize. The shape resembled one of a dragon. You paid it no attention. When you turn to your left, your eyes lay on a pair of stairs which seemed as if they reached heavens due to the height of it. The railings are golden, if you squint a little, they had an effect which made it seem as if they're glowing.

You don't even notice the bailiff leaving until you heard the tall doors slam shut. You quickly look behind as it startled you. Why would he even leave you alone, that didnt make sense.

After a few moments of pondering whether to escape immediately or continue your exploration, you decide to ascend the almost never ending stairs to the top floor. There, you see that the top floor is a whole room itself. There are no doors to open, just an untouched bedroom which could honestly be called a treasure room at the same time. The amount of shiny things you could name were almost endless. Despite the whole thing looking a bit untouched, you could tell someone has taken care of it or at the very least, tried to. The desk and books are collecting dust but at least the sheets are clean. Taking another step forward, you examine the royalty-like room. There's a chandelier placed in the middle of the room. It hangs over you, something about it feel off. Maybe it's the fact it looks so much like a glowing purple bubble floating in the air. Maybe your eyesight's gotten worse? Though, you sure do notice the tall windows.

In your peripheral vision, you could see a box that caught your eye. You walk towards the box, which sits on top of the desk. Lifting it with your two hands, you blow off some of the dust. It wasn't locked, thankfully. You take a peak inside and see... a collar of some kind. A collar made out of what seems to be black leather with precious amethysts embedded into the leather itself, along with some chains drooping around it. You looked at it and thought about one thing. This thing could fetch you a pretty penny or two. Deciding on selling it the moment you get out of this fancy manor, you reach into the box and grab it using one hand. "That idiotic judge, leaving me all alone here", not only would he be blamed for letting a serial killer escape, but he would also lose a precious gem adorned collar. Within a blink of an eye, you felt something placing itself around your neck. Wait...where did the collar go!?

You panic and look in the mirror to see said collar somehow clasped on your neck. "Fuck fuck what is this shit!?", you start to cuss out of fear. You'd never been scared by anything but this....this is different. There must be some magic or paranormal activity for this to even happen. How did it teleport from your hand to your neck, that doesn't make sense!

You try to pry it off your neck but to no avail, it was tight around your neck. It wouldn't let go of you. Not now that you've accepted being its owner's mate. Your gut is screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible. With the collar unable to be loose, you focus on escaping first. "Fuck", you try to break the windows to escape as you usually do but stop to think. You're very high above ground at this moment, if you jump off from this height, you'd end up dead or with broken bones which you don't feel like dealing with. The only decision you had left was to go back downstairs and to hopefully be able to escape through the entrance or a back door before Zihao arrives. Sprinting like your life depends on it, you finally arrive at the entrance of the manor. You push it but it doesn't budge. At that moment, you hear an "ahem" coming from behind you. Your whole body freezes, not daring to even look back. You recognize the voice as their footsteps get closer to you until you felt their chest press against your back. Their hands trailing your body. Their hands settling to grip your waist in place. "I see you've accepted my gift", you could even imagine the person to be smiling as they say this.

Their left hand grabs your chin to face them. You weren't surprised to see the judge. What shocked you was the fact he looked like a predator who just found its prey. His pupils looked like a..serpent's..? Not only that, you could see his eye color changing and glowing a bright purple. You try to pull your head back in order not to face his predatory gaze, but his hand stops you. He has a strong grip on your chin, preventing you from looking away. Even though your whole body is almost trembling with fear, you manage to ask, "w-what to do you...want...", he tilts his head a bit, as if he himself is confused. "You're now my mate, I can do whatever I please with you, can't I?", he states as if it's the most obvious thing ever, making you even more nervous. You try your best to stay calm, but how could you? Why did he even use the term 'mate'...

"What m-mate? I'm...nothing of the sorts, let go!", you thrash in his hold, trying your hardest and using all your strength to break free which eventually, you reach your goal. "F-fuck, crazy bastard!", your words spill out as you stumble back, trying to catch the breath you'd been unconsciously holding while in his strong grip. He only stared at you, you could see clearly now that he isn't human, there's no way he could be one. With the black to purple gradient horns ontop his head. Heck, you even see a long tail behind him. Your fight or flight immediately activated as you tried your best to get out of there. You've already established that 1. This man's grip is strong and that 2. He isn't human. There's no way you'd be able to beat him in a fight. You try to reach the front door. You're just a few inches away before he pulls you back to him, this time, your whole body is facing his. "Don't run", is all he says, you look at him as if he's said something crazy, "don't run?? Fuck you, let go of me right now", despite this man being easily 6'5 and intimidating as fuck, you manage to overcome your fear and speak your mind.

"I've finally found you after years of being in the mortal realm, stay with me, my mate", he says as he gently grabs your hand to touch his cheek. Whatever he said made you even more confused, is this all a dream? No way any of this is real. "What are you on..!?", you question but honestly didn't want to know the answer. All you want and nerd at this moment is to be able to escape his grasp as this time, it seems more secure. Without even answering, the serpent-like man whisked you up into his arms, carrying you as if you were light as feather. Even when you thrash on and on, it's as if he doesn't feel your weight at all.

Despite voicing out and even using action to show your unwillingness, he doesn't stop and continues to make the journey up the stairs with you in his arms. It doesn't take long until the both of you reach the top floor.

He proceeds to throw you on the bed as gently as someone could be. Before you could get up and even process what had happened, you're pinned down to the bed by Zihao. "Hey, hey Lord Liu–", just as you're about to protest once more, you're silenced by Zihao's lips shutting you up. At first, it was just smashing your lips together, but you knew Zihao wanted more than that. He tries to get you to slip up and open your mouth, but you don't let him. You try your best to keep your lips sealed. This proves to be even more difficult the moment his hand trails down your tummy and stops at your pants. With just a touch, your pants are suddenly discarded of along with your underwear. "Wh–", you made a mistake. The moment you had realized you accidentally left an opening for him, it was too late. His tongue slides itself into your open mouth. You have no way of closing it now. What's weird is that you could almost feel his tongue down your throat, "a-aufh!??!...", the sudden feeling shocks you yet you couldn't say anything about it so all you could think to do was try to push him off of you.

Using all your strength, you manage to push him off. It was weird seeing how you couldn't push him off earlier on. You wipe your lips, which had his saliva and your own drool still covering it. You couldn't deny that he's an amazing kisser and the way he explored your mouth did turn you on a bit but you're as scared as ever with him not being human and calling you his 'mate'. At this point, he's almost straddling you in a way. He licks his lips, and that was when you saw his long tongue. It's split in the very middle, making him look even more serpent-like. With his weight on you, you couldn't get up and sprint down the stairs and out the door like you wanted. Instead, you tried to talk him out of whatever he was about to do. "Judge Liu, why in the world would a judge want to do this with a criminal..!?", you catch your breath while you're trying to persuade him, well, more of asking now that you think about it. This obviously doesn't work. He's already decided on you as his. A simple question of why he's doing what he is right now is futile. "This is your sentencing, I'm merely carrying out my duty", after he says this, he loosens his tie and discards it on the ground next to the bed. "Having you in front of me is...exhilarating", his eyes are filled with so much lust and love while looking at your fearful figure pinned to the bed he's always wanted you to be on. "Consider this as discipline for the crimes you've commited", with just a snap of his fingers, your arms are suddenly bound above your head. When you take a look, you can see a seal of some kind hovering over your hands, preventing any movement.

With every touch of his on your skin, you felt pleasure even if you didn't want to admit to it. His hands trailing up and down your body, from your neck until your crotch. It was as if he's exploring his new treasure. "That is unless you desire the death penalty?", you shake your head as a 'no'. This definitely is better than the death penalty but you still have questions. One of them being what kind of nonsense was he even spouting? Some shit about being his 'mate' or whatnot. While infront of you, Zihao unzips his pants. "What the fuck!?", you couldn't believe what you were seeing and involuntary let out a scream of confusion as what you saw wasn't just a cock, he had two. "Hm?", he glances up at you once more, confused as to why you let out such a noise. You could only stare with your eyes wide open. As he followed your gaze, he noticed what you were staring at, "ah, it hadn't crossed my mind..you mortals aren't usually this size", though he wasn't wrong, you were talking about how he has two instead of one. "I meant you having two...", you refused to continue your sentence having already eluded to the fact he has two of which you and many others only have one of.. Fortunately, he already knows what you were trying to point out, "there shouldn't be an issue regarding them, you'll be able to take them fairly well without difficulty", this doesn't convince you, not at all. Looking at the length and width, you think you'll die if you try to fit both in you.

Fortunately for you, he didn't put it in immediately. He, at the very least, has the decency to prep you beforehand. As he was about to put two fingers in your mouth, you close it immediately. This ends up with his fingers on your lips instead. It's clear what he wants you to do but you refuse. "Open up", he demands. You aren't just going to let him put his fingers in your mouth. If you do, your ego wouldn't ever recover from it. You shook your head no as an answer seeing how you can't really open your mouth. His lips twitch ever so slightly. "You've been given mercy by me and yet you're still a brat?", he asks, eyes piercing yours. While that is technically true, you'd never thought this 'mercy' of his would get you into this kind of situation. Reluctantly, you open your mouth, leaving a small gap between your bottom and upper lip. It's big enough for him to shove both fingers into your mouth. He looks at you expectantly. You knew what he wanted so you slowly sucked and licked his fingers. His fingers eventually got deeper into your mouth, almost reaching your throat due to how long they are. You almost choke on them. His eyes scan your face, that adorable expression you're making is turning him on a bit more by the second. Before long, he removes his fingers from your mouth. Letting you catch your breath a bit.

Although, that didnt last long as he pressed his two fingers on your hole. "Don't take it that far! I'm a man—", God, how many times have you been interrupted by him? You can't remember and you simply don't want to. His long and slender fingers pushed their way into your tight hole while you could only close your eyes to avoid meeting his gaze. Of course just closing your eyes can't solve everything. You still felt this fingers push and twist inside of you in search of something in particular. You let out breathy and quiet moans until his fingers finally found what they were looking for. Your sweet spot. "Ahgh..!", a louder moan came out of your mouth as a response to the sudden pleasureful feeling. When you open your eyes, you could see Zihao look at you with hungry eyes. He continues to stretch your hole for the next 2 minutes. All the while you closed your eyes. "If this is already making you feel full, I fear my cock will be too much for you to handle", just then, he removes his fingers from your hole.

The sudden feeling of emptiness hits you so you open your eyes to look at what he's doing. Without warning, he takes one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder, leaving an easier access for him. Using his other hand, he places a firm grip on your waist, "h-hey now—", you couldn't say anything once had plunged one of his cocks inside of you. It wasn't even all the way yet but it had you arch your back, widen your eyes and mouth. You swore some tears even came out. "A-AaAgh..!", was the only noise you could let out. A mix of pleasure, pain and shock. Zihao lets out a groan of pleasure as he finally enters your hole. Though, he longed to be all the way in you and so he didn't waste anytime, thrusting all the way in this time. You let out a loud moan, almost like a scream of a moan. "Hah...you take me in so well", you couldn't even cover your face with your hands due to them being bound together. It's humiliating even if nobody's here to see. Having someone dominate you when you're a serial killer hurts your pride and ego. You look at him with a gaze which to you, conveys hatred yet pleasure. This only turns him on even more. "My mate...I've been craving for this", the second he finishes his sentence, he pulls up just until his tip is in before slamming his hips forward once more. Without anything to bite on to conceal your voice, you bite your lip until it starts to bleed. His thrusts get rougher and faster by the second. He groans and moans as he pounds your cute hole, all he wants is to fill you up with his seed. It's his natural instict afterall.

You were starting to manage the unexplainable feeling of his big cock stretching and pounding your hole when all of a sudden, he hits your sweet spot once more. Your voice might be raspy by tomorrow if you keep scream moaning all throughout tonight. You hoped it wouldn't last that long though. You wanted so badly to cling onto something or someone, to dig your fingerd into the sheets or Zihao's back but the seal prevented you. With the amount of stimulation you've been getting, you can feel yourself about to cum. You moan loudly once more as cum splurted out of your cock, coating your stomach with the fluid. This doesn't stop Zihao from thrusting in and out of you like there's no tomorrow. He's chasing his own climax.

Having just came, you're extra sensitive to his attacks. You could feel every inch of him enter. "Agh...take it all inside", Zihao groans as he can feel himself reach his limit after a few more minutes.

For the first time in the 7 minutes, he stops to catch his breath. You also take this opportunity to pant and try to grasp what had just happened. To your surprise, Zihao had broken off the seal that was bounding your two hands. You didn't have the strength to question it, you only put your hands back down, relaxing them as they had gotten quite sore.

Not even 3 minutes pass and you noticed something rubbing against your already filled hole. "W-what are you doing now..?", you question as you saw him bringing his second cock near your entrance, "you won't be able to conceive my kids with just one round", he's forcibly pushing his cock in your stuffed hole as he says this. You could only brace for impact as you gripped the bedsheets beside you. Not long after, you feel the head of his second cock pushing in. The pain is noticeable, you try to suppress it as best as you can to get through. Fortunately for you, his cocks have a sort of natural lube. Not only does it reduce the pain of the receiver, it also helps slide it in smoother.

"My love, wrap your hands around me instead", the way he said it in such a gentle and soft way made you give in. For the first time in your criminal life, you're holding and at the same time, being held by a male being.

Your thoughts are interrupted for the 2nd and probably not the last time by Zihao's dick entering you. You look down to see your stomach has a very visible bulge. When Zihao goes to press on your stomach, you moan out. "Seems you're very sensitive, you'll bring wonderful offsprings", he smiles. Before you could even question it, he starts to pound you again but this time with both his cocks deep inside your poor stretched out hole. Some of his cum even dripped out your hole due to how fiercely and deep he thrusted. Your brain is fogged due to being so full. Your nails dig themselves into his still clothed back, nearly tearing his expensive leather. He wouldn't mind if you did at all. He loves the way you're clinging onto him with your arms around him. "Hah...agh", he lets out a string of groans as he hits your prostate each time he thrusts back in. You could only writhe in the pleasure, not being able to conceal your voice anymore as you moan louder than before. If some passersby came along, they'd hear your moans and the sound of skin against skin. With Zihao's cum already inside, there's noticeable squelching noises each time he pounds your ass.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Even after having you've came five more times, Zihao shows no sign of stopping. He's only came about twice you presume, not being able to recall much. Both your bodies sweaty and sticky. Your voice has gotten hoarse. You can barely think with so much cock inside you. Your lewd sounds and expressions only fuels Zihao's urge to fuck you even dumber. It's almost as if his hips are unstoppable. By now, his clothes and yours are already discarded on the ground next to the bed. This lets your nails dig into his bare back, leaving scratch marks as gold liquid, which someone can only assume to be blood, drip out of the scars. Zihao doesn't react at all despite how painful the scratches look. You feel as if you're about to die from overstimulation, or at the very least, pass out soon enough. You feel a sense of relief once Zihao finally came in you and stopped for a moment, letting you rest. "H-hah...ah..", you look at the ceiling, your hands no longer wrapped around Zihao. Instead, they're sprawled out on the bed as you pant, out of breath. "You're my mate and I'll make sure everyone knows that", you could hear Zihao say. Out of curiosity and a tint of fear, you look at him. He proceeds to trail his finger around your lower tummy, using some sort of magic? Power? You don't know, you can see his hand having a purple glow to it before you suddenly experience intense pleasure all over your body. You look down and see a symbol on your body. Before you could even say anything, you're roughly lifted up into his lap. This sudden action shocks you as he's looking up at your cute face.

"This is my mark on you, all mortal and immortal alike shall know to stay away fron you", he says with a fierce voice, proud of his mark on your skin and then points at the symbol, almost poking your skin. "Claim...? What do you mea—", just as you are about to finish your sentence, he thrusts upwards, going balls deep in you. You end up jolting for a moment with your eyes wide. "My claim in you, you're mine, no one else's." With your body now weak and wanting him to fuck you senseless, you rest your head on his shoulder, your face almost smushed into his chest. Wanting him to do all the job for you. He finds this reaction to his mark very amusing and continues to bounce you up and down on his cocks. His thrusts are relentless, making you close your eyes. You bite his collarbone, trying to suppress the pain however you could. Even when you're distracted, you feel something slithering up your leg. When you open your eyes and put your chin over Zihao's shoulder, you see his long scaly tail wrap itself around your leg. Despite the sight being able to freak anyone out, it treats your leg with gentility, not ever squeezing too tight. Unfortunately, your cock filled mind's too foggy to even register it's Zihao's tail.

You don't even notice him cumming inside you. It's only when he stops do you realize. You're almost about to pass out, how long will your 'punishment' last..? "Z-Zihao....I can't take anymore...", you huff out, panting. He, on the other hand, only smirked, "the night is still young, you're my mate for a reason, are you not?", you wish you had never committed those crimes.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Your memory of last night is quite hazy. You barely remember what happened after the 8th or maybe 10th round, you can't even recount. Zihao's inhuman stamina lasted all night long. When you awoke, it was already noon, long past when you're usually awake. Instead of finding yourself alone in your own bed, you turn to the side to be face to face with the dragon's peaceful face. His long eyelashes cast a shadow over his shut eyes. It's a completely different view compared to the night before. You could barely move anything. With the bruises all over your body, people would have thought you got into a fight if it weren't for the hickeys on every part of your body. Your neck, your chest, your thights, everywhere. You stared at the one who caused these on your body. Wondering what to do with this whole thing.

"What happened last night...", you question yourself quietly, trying not to awaken the man infront of you. You try to recall the best you can about last night. "Something about mate and..", you look at him to confirm your suspicions. Purple horns, a long scaly tail and serpent eyes from which you still remember due to how intimidating they were last night. Yep. He truly is a dragon. The one you've heard about ever since you were a baby. All your life, you thought all those stories were just crazy talk from old folks. How wrong you were.

Though, even with this being explained, you are still confused about how Zihao is able to have a human form. Not to mention what he meant as being 'his mate' and laying his 'claim' on you. When you go to check your tummy, you can still see the symbol clear as day. The shape is peculiar. The main shape is a circle with a diamond shape inside of it. In the very middle, there is almost a vine-shaped line which stretches out horizontally. The color is an unmistakable purple.

While you're lost in your own thoughts, you fail to notice Zihao's eyes opening slowly. One look at his eyes and you'd wonder why hadn't you suspected him of being non-human earlier. "My dear [Name]?", he calls out for you with a gentle voice, snapping you out of your train of thought. His tail wrapping around your leg once more. "W-wha, wait", caught off guard, you mess up your words. He throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer than before. With his grip being so strong and you being bruised up, you can't really escape this. It's your fate now and whether you like it or not, you have to accept it.

"Your punishment isn't over yet. Did you think one night would compensate the lives you took?", he states the very much obvious thing to him. You look at him with a worried look. What you did was wrong, sure but isn't this too excessive...? Being personally fucked dumb by the Judge every single night without a chance of escaping. God your pride and ego...you're not even sure if they survived last night, let alone several more nights. With a hesitant tone, you ask, "how much longer then?", which he answers without skipping a beat, "If I'm not wrong, it'll take about 7,783,457 more years", "WHAT!? Are you forgetting I'm a human? My life span's like 60 more years if I'm lucky, I'll die long before then", you yell at his outrageous words, trying to get up but eventually being pushed nack down. He chuckles, finding your reaction very amusing. "Don't fret, you're now the dragon's mate, you will live for as long as I do.", there he goes again about you being his mate. "And..how long is that exactly..", Zihao smiles sweetly, "we have the rest of eternity for us", you can almost see his face glowing as these words come out his mouth.

"Hold on, I have loads of other questions. What did you mean by having your kids??? On top of being human, I'm a human MALE", you emphasize the male part. It's common knowledge that males don't have wombs and, therefore, can not get impregnated. Perhaps it was just dirty talk? "Oh, of course you can, see this? It's proof you can", he rubs your tummy once more, gesturing at the mark he had left last night. You're flustered by his choice of words and instinctually lift your hand up to hit him for even saying such things, only to be stop in your tracks once more. "My dear, don't be like that", his expression is smug. He knew you were going to hit him sooner or later. "I guess I better make sure you learn your lesson instead of spoiling you."

══════════════════════════════

This man has my heart rn 😍☝️ I have so many ideas for him in the future.

Speaking of ideas, my next oc is an middle aged man/dilf 😋

#male reader #oc x reader #bottom male reader #oc x male reader #x male reader #original character #「 by the hands of xin 」#Xin's Liu Zihao ☆

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steveslevis · 4 months ago

Text

can you see right through me?

azriel x mate!reader

summary: after finding out you're mated to the Spymaster of the Night Court, you can't help but feel self-conscious, thanks to the jealous remarks made by patrons at your bookstore.

warnings: mentions of self-hatred and self-sabotage, angst!!!, body image issues, depression, mentions of death, azriel is an idiot but he figures it out ok, mentions of sex & the mating frenzy

word count: 9.5k (oops...)

Ever since finding out that you’re mated to none other than the High Lord’s Shadowsinger two months ago, everything in your life has flipped upside down.

You’re not just some ordinary bookstore owner anymore, you’re now part of the Night Court’s Inner Circle by default. Your status as a citizen in Velaris has completely changed, but you refused to quit working just because of your mate, much to his disappointment. He’d rather you just stay with him in the House of Wind, filling your days reading your favorite books instead of selling them, but you insisted. You wanted to get to know the male better before immediately accepting the bond, moving in and forgetting about your old life, especially after hearing all the things people say about you and your new mating bond when they’re in or around your shop.

You have to deal with sidelong glances and whispers from almost everyone who comes into your tiny shop next to the Sidra, have to hear the spiteful unmated females who might kill to be in your position.

“How do you think she got him? Do you think she slipped one of those banned love tonics into a drink or something?”

“He could be mated to anyone, and the Cauldron picked her of all people?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he already rejected the bond, I don’t ever see them together.”

“She’s definitely just using him for his money and power, she had to have manipulated him somehow.”

“I thought he was with the Morrigan, she’s much more fitting for a male like him, much prettier.”

Every snide remark hits you like a knife to the heart, but still, you keep your composure throughout every single day. It isn’t ever until you’re in the safety of your own apartment above the bookstore that you allow yourself to mull over the comments, to let yourself fall back into old self-loathing habits.

You quickly learn how to contain your sadness to your end of the bond, blocking Azriel from seeing the pain that you endure on a nightly basis. You’re convinced he would be so embarrassed to see you cry yourself to sleep, to see you poke and prod at your skin in front of the mirror, to see you skip over meals in order to appease that incessant hatred filling your mind, to see you become filled with so much disgust in yourself when you replay the remarks over and over and over again.

The comments never seem to die down as weeks pass, and you slowly convince yourself that they’re all right, that Azriel is going to reject the bond because you don’t deserve him. You don’t see him often anyways, as you’re both preoccupied with your jobs throughout the week, which doesn’t help the fact that you’re convinced that he doesn’t want to be around you.

You’re stuck between trying to change yourself to fit what you think the Illyrian would like in a mate and rejecting the bond before he gets the chance to break your heart. You eventually decide it’s worth a shot to change yourself into the ideal, beautiful mate that you think he wants you to be before being stung with the inevitable heartbreak that comes with rejecting a bond.

Sundays used to be your favorite day of the week because you get to close shop at mid-day and spend the rest of the day reading at the foot of the Sidra or walking around to the nearby shops.

For the last few Sundays, you didn’t feel like doing anything aside from wallowing in self-pity in your bed. You never let yourself do just that, though.

You’d taken it upon yourself to change your lifestyle after thinking long and hard about the women that he’s surrounded by in the Inner Circle. All of them are tall and toned and so strong, more in shape than you’ve ever been in your life. All of them have natural beauty and grace that you could only wish to have.

Every Sunday for the last month, you’d spent the afternoon running or doing some kind of training in order to “fix yourself”, to look an inkling more similar to those beautiful high fae of the Inner Circle. This Sunday was no different.

You closed the bookstore around noon and headed up to your apartment, changing into training clothes before deciding to go for a long run after a day of extremely ruthless comments. You slip out the back door of the bookstore to begin your run, but are halted almost immediately when you walk straight into a wall of leather and warm skin, shadows skittering around your shoulders as you take a step back.

Azriel peers down at you as you frown at him, concern lacing his features when he takes you in. His heart races as you stand in front of him, excited to finally see you after not seeing you for over a week. He swears you look different every time he’s seen you recently, your frame beginning to thin out in ways that concern him, but he knows better than to bring that up.

“S–Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” you say meekly, tugging at the sleeves of your jacket while avoiding direct eye contact with the male.

“It’s quite alright,” he says gently, watching you closely as his eagerness extends down the bond to you. “Where are you going?”

“Was just gonna go on a run,” you reply with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as the self-doubting thoughts swirl around in your mind even more in his presence. “Did–did you need something?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my mate whenever I please?” he teases, which makes your eyes widen in fear that he’s actually upset.

“I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean it like that!” you stammer, shaking your head at him apologetically as you take a step back, backing into the door behind you.

“Hey, no it’s alright. I was only joking.” Azriel says quickly, one of his hands coming up to caress one of your arms. “I didn’t mean to take you by surprise, I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure it was okay that I stopped by.”

You shake your head again, blinking before looking up at him with a frown. He wants more than anything to ask you what’s bothering you, but can see that you’re obviously already distraught about whatever it is, and doesn’t want to pry. Since he’s known you, you’ve always been closed off, like him, about your emotions. So, he opts to change the subject instead.

“I did have a real reason for coming over here though,” he suggests and you nod slowly, waiting for him to continue. “Rhysand requests your presence at dinner tonight.”

“T–The High Lord?” you question, and Azriel nods. “W–Why is he requesting my presence at dinner?”

“Well, we have family dinner once a week, and he claims it’s not a complete family affair if my mate isn’t present.” he explains, the ghost of a smile on his lips, “I tried to tell him to fuck off, because I know you’re typically busy on Sunday nights, but he insists that you come this week, at least this once.”

There’s a pleading look in your mate’s eyes that makes you nearly melt at his feet, and you know you can’t say no to him at that moment.

“I–I, yeah, I can come tonight.” you say finally, giving him a weak smile as he grins down at you triumphantly.

“Perfect,” he retorts, his shadows dancing around you with equal excitement, “I’ll meet you here around five? It’s just over at the River House.”

You nod quickly, forcing a smile onto your face as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek before bidding you goodbye. The small gesture makes your heart flutter, but you can’t help but wonder how forced it is, can’t help but wonder if inviting you to dinner is a ploy to bring you in and publicly reject your bond.

There’s no way in hell you’re going for a run now.

You spend the next five hours pacing around, thinking about what you’re going to wear if you want to even come close to looking as good as the other females that will be there. The clothes in your closet are few and far between, but you finally decide on your nicest dress, one that's made of a gauzy navy fabric, adorned with silver embroidered stars littered over the bodice. It’s more revealing than most clothes you wear, but it’s the closest thing you have to the clothes that the Inner Circle wear. It takes you almost an hour to feel presentable in terms of makeup and hair, and by the time you’re done, you hear a knock on the back door of the store.

You throw your shoes on quickly before making your way down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for the evening as you do.

Azriel’s eyes go wide when you open the door, something like amazement and confusion mixed in his gaze as he stares you down.

“I–I’ve never seen you wear anything like this, it’s beautiful,” he starts, unable to tear his gaze from the flowy dress, “You’re beautiful.”

Your chest aches at his compliment as your mind tries to convince you that he’s lying, but you smile up at him weakly nonetheless. He extends his arm for you to take, ready to lead you to the River House across the Sidra.

The two of you are greeted by more people than you’d expect when you enter the High Lord and Lady’s home, but you recognize them all before they get a chance to introduce themselves. You’ve only met Cassian and Nesta prior to this dinner, so the first hour was spent essentially introducing yourself to each of them one-by-one. Azriel stays by your side through each introduction, hand on the small of your back as his shadows swirl around your hands comfortingly. He can tell that something in you has changed since he met you a few months back, that the light and excitement in your eyes when you first found out he was your mate has since dissipated. There’s an unmistakable lump in his throat as he thinks too much into it, wondering if you’re having second thoughts about him.

Dinner comes and goes as smoothly as you hoped it would. The nauseous feeling roiling in your gut keeps you from eating much, only pushing the food around on the plate while taking miniscule bites to fight off any comments that any of them might have about your hesitancy. You’re only roped into conversations every once in a while, so you’re able to sit back and explore the dynamic between the group a little more without much involvement. Azriel mainly stays silent, only making a few remarks here and there.

With a snap of the High Lord’s fingers, dessert appears in front of everyone along with more wine in each of your glasses.

“I propose a toast,” Rhysand suggests after getting everyone’s attention, eyes landing on you finally, “to Y/N, for bringing our Shadowsinger so much happiness.”

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks as you force a smile, raising your glass as the others do too. ‘Cheers’ is mumbled by everyone before they all take a drink, and Azriel reaches over to squeeze your hand that’s sitting on the edge of the table. You turn to look at him, noting an unfamiliar look in his eyes that you nearly mistake for love, before your thoughts are interrupted by a loud laugh from Amren across the table.

“I, for one, am so grateful that Y/N finally came along after all this time.” she says with a sly grin, “because I think if she wouldn’t have, then the Spymaster would’ve continued to pine after Mor for the rest of eternity.”

There’s a collectively uncomfortable murmur from everyone at her words, and Nesta jabs her in the side with a warning glare as she notices the smile on your face falter for a split second. You could feel all color leave your face as your heart plummets to your stomach, the female’s words confirming all of your doubts about your current situation. Azriel shifts his eyes to you then, but you bring back the same composed mask to your face, the same one you’ve held for the last three months any time someone made snide remarks at you, while you try to avoid his burning gaze. You give the female a withering smile, ignoring the worried stare from the male at your side as you do.

“Truly, I’m grateful the Cauldron deemed me worthy of being a welcome distraction to such a male like him,” you say in response with a laugh, hoping your voice comes out in a joking tone as you try to mask the disappointment in your wavering voice.

The comment is enough to earn a few chuckles from around the table, pushing away any awkwardness that stemmed from Amren’s comment. You’re able to skate through the rest of the evening without any snide remarks from the Inner Circle, glad that you’re one step closer to getting the hell out of this house as the group finally starts to stand from the table.

Azriel follows closely behind you as you bid everyone goodbye, exhaustion raking over your bones as you give one final wave to the High Lord and Lady before turning toward your mate.

There’s a look of worry shining in his eyes when you finally peer up at him, shadows skittering anxiously around your wrists in the meantime.

“Ready to go home?” he questions, forcing a smile onto his face as he guides you towards the front door when you nod.

“You don’t have to walk me home, Azriel.” you start once you’re out of earshot of everyone else, stopping in your tracks to look at him again. The look on your face is almost unreadable, but his shadows whisper to him about your pain and embarrassment as the two of you stand on the outside of the front door to the River House. “I’m truly fine to go by myself, you don’t–don’t have to bother to go out of your way for me.”

His brow furrows and a frown pulls his lips down at your words, finally seeing the slightest glimmer of sadness and disappointment shining in your eyes as you speak. He only shakes his head, taking a step towards you before he speaks.

“I–You’re not a bother to me.” he says, unsure of what else to say to you, “If you’re upset about what Amren said, please know that she always says bullshit like that when she’s drunk, I have not thought about Mor in that way for centuries–”

“Truly, Azriel, it’s quite alright.” you interject with a pained smile. “You didn’t ask to be mated to me, I understand if you’re preoccupied with other love interests or if you just don’t want to be with me.”

The Illyrian opens his mouth to speak, but is downright dumbfounded by your words to the point where he simply closes his mouth again. He very obviously had been reading the situation wrong this whole time, as he thought that giving you space was the right thing to do in order to let you process the very new bond from your end. He realizes then that you needed reassurance and not space, but it could very well be too late now. Before he can protest, you’re taking a step closer to him in order to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before stepping away.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I get it, I really do. And–And if you need to reject the bond and never want to see me again after tonight, I’ll understand.”

Oh, fuck. You think he wants to reject the bond.

Hazel eyes meet yours then, and you swear you see a twinkle of regret and hurt shining somewhere between the bronzy flecks, but it’s almost undetectable. Such a miniscule expression that you tell yourself that you imagined it, that his face never changed and that he truly does not care about what you’re saying to him now.

He shakes his head as you take another step away from him, as you turn on your toes to walk away from the townhouse, away from him. His chest feels like it’s going to cave in then, as the bond to his heart hums with a sadness he’s never felt before. He can feel the bond quivering in pain between your souls, threatening to wither away if either of you even thinks about truly rejecting the bond.

But you don’t feel it because you’ve expertly blocked the bond out for the last month, because you truly believe that there’s no way Azriel could ever truly want you, because you’re convinced that he wants this.

There’s no hesitation in your step when you turn your back to the male, walking in swift strides towards the bridge to cross the Sidra to reach your little apartment on top of the bookstore. You refuse to let him see how much it kills you to freely offer up a rejected bond, you can’t let him see how you’re crumbling with each step you take. So you stay steady in your gait, hiding your shaking hands in front of you as you blink back the tears that threaten to spill.

If you would’ve looked back in that moment, you would’ve seen the tears that spilled down the shadowsinger’s cheeks. If you wouldn’t have blocked out the bond in that moment, you would’ve felt the way you almost tore his heart out of his chest as you walked into the darkness.

Azriel didn’t follow after you though, he didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. He’d fucked up so badly by not showing you how much the bond truly meant to him, by simply assuming that you needed space.

So, he simply sent a shadow to make sure you got home safely and sat down on the front step of the townhouse.

He sat on that step for almost two hours, staring at the stars and cursing himself for all of the mistakes he’d made.

You only get one mate in your eternal life, and he really fucked it up this badly already?

Memories of the first few times the two of you had met replayed in his mind as he sat there, remembering how your eyes glimmered with the most love he’d ever been shown in his life.

You were shy and quiet, something he wasn’t used to from being around the Inner Circle for so long. After living with the loud, boisterous crown for centuries, he was used to emotions being expressed outright. So, he’d mistaken your meek behavior for disinterest, mistaken your nervousness for distaste. He thought you’d needed space, needed time to get used to his brooding and intolerable presence, needed room to process the sudden bond. But, fuck, was he wrong.

Everything becomes clearer to the male as as it nears midnight. The ache in his chest becomes more and more painful with each passing minute now, and he realizes that he has to get you back, he has to fight to make you understand how much you mean to him.

_______________________________________

Nesta Archeron started her Sunday much earlier than usual this week, thanks to her mate’s early morning departure. Cassian woke her by rustling around their shared bedroom before dawn, seemingly flustered as he tried to gather his leathers and put them on in the dark.

“You’re not very good at being quiet, General.” she remarks tiredly, sitting up in the bed to flick one of the bedside faelights on.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, shooting her a sympathetic smile as he nearly trips over the leathers he tries to step into. “Rhys said there’s an emergency in Windhaven, Az and I are leaving soon.”

She only hums in response, watching him finish getting dressed in comfortable silence. Cassian stands over her at the edge of the bed after tugging on his boots, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before heading out for the day.

Nesta knows then that she won’t be able to fall back asleep, so she decides to reach for her latest read on her nightstand. Once she grabs the book, she realizes that she’d finished the night before and is completely out of books to read. She knows then that she’ll have to make her way into town, deciding to take a trip to your bookstore at the base of the Sidra for the first time.

She took her time getting ready, slipping into a gray dress and her usual boots before heading downstairs to eat breakfast. It was a little after seven in the morning when she made her way towards your bookstore, basking in the chilly morning air as she walked along the river.

It took her all of thirty minutes to reach the store, where she was met with a locked door and a dark front window. It was well past opening time for the store and there were no other signs on the door to suggest otherwise, but your store was definitely closed.

“I’m not surprised,” Nesta hears a female say from behind her, giggling to her friend as they pass the storefront, “I’m sure she’s been rotting away upstairs because the Shadowsinger broke their bond or something like that. The store’s been closed all week. A lesser fae store owner like her did not deserve a male as beautiful as him.”

Nesta turns to see the culprits of the spiteful comments and laughs, and the two High Fae females’ eyes widen upon her whipping her head towards them.

Their smirks fall immediately, the one who was speaking starts to open her mouth but Nesta only holds up a hand to shut her up.

“I don’t know either of you females–and I’m very glad I don’t–” the sharp-eyed female spat out, “but I do know the Shadowsinger and his mate. And all I have to say is that if I hear either of you coming around here to harass her or if I hear of you spewing more lies about her relationship, I will be sure to mention it to the High Lord and Shadowsinger. I’m sure neither of them would be very happy to hear the rumors flying around.”

The females nod feverishly as Nesta stares them down with that silver fire flickering lowly in her eyes, both mumbling apologies under their breaths as they scurry away.

Nesta lets out a huff, turning on her heels to make her way towards the other bookstore across town, where she only finds two new books for herself instead of the countless romance novels she knew she would’ve found at your carefully curated store. The remarks from the two females about you aren’t lost on her as she makes her way through the city, their spiteful words and evil giggles running through her mind as she replays the scenario.

Instead of trekking all the way back to the House of Wind after gathering her books, she makes her way to the River House in order to spend the day with her favorite person–Nyx.

The day goes by quickly between reading and rolling around with the toddler and his mother, and it’s evening before she or Feyre even realize it. Three Illyrian warriors clad in leathers make their way into the drawing room where the two females lounge on the couch, looking exhausted from a day of crisis management at the camps.

“Long day?” Nesta says as she raises her eyebrow at the three males, stroking Nyx’s hair as he sleeps silently on her chest.

Her mate only grunts in agreement, coming over to press a kiss to the crown of her head in greeting. The High Lord is greeted by Feyre with a loving stroke of his cheek, smiling up at him sympathetically. Azriel only stands at the threshold, looking more brooding and closed off than usual.

“Well, good news is you can tell us all about it at dinner.” Feyre suggests, trying to lighten the sour mood of the three males as she reaches for Rhys’ hand to intertwine into her own. “Nuala and Cerridwen just finished making some delicious stew and I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving.”

Dinner seems to lighten the mood quite a bit for the group, quiet conversation carrying through the dining room after Cassian and Rhysand get their complaints out for the day. Azriel sits on the other side of Feyre, silent for the majority of the meal, only engaging when Cassian involves him.

A burning question gnaws at Nesta as she takes in the sad, hazel-eyed male, she can almost feel the pain radiating off of him from across the table as he stares intently down at the barely touched food in front of him. It’s hard to read the male, so she’s not entirely sure what the sadness is about, but she has to know eventually.

“How was your day, Nes?” her thoughts are interrupted by Cassian’s words and his elbow nudging hers lightly.

“Great, for the most part. Got to spend it with my favorite nephew,” she jokes, grinning briefly over at the babbling toddler being fed by his mother. “But I did find something very interesting on my trip to get some new books this morning.”

She notes how Azriel’s eyes flicker towards her then, intrigued by the mention of going to a bookstore.

“Oh, did you go to Y/N’s store? I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to take a trip over there to get some new books.” Feyre asks while forking some food for her son.

“Well, that was the original plan.” Nesta retorts, lips pulling into a half-frown before turning towards the shadowsinger, “Have you heard from your mate lately, Azriel?”

Azriel drops the spoon he was holding into the bowl of stew with a loud clatter, obviously taken aback by the question directed towards him. The room is silent as he finally looks up, seeing four expectant pairs of eyes staring back at him, Nesta’s gaze the harshest out of all of them.

“No, I haven’t heard from her since Saturday.” he says, willing his voice to be strong as he feels as though he’s going to throw up.

“Hm, interesting.” Nesta hums, eyes sharpening even more, if that’s even possible, “I tried to stop by the store because I finished my last novel last night, but the door was locked and the lights were all off. Then I ran into the most interesting pair of females who I overheard say that the store had been closed all week.”

“All week?” Feyre questions, a frown on her face now too.

“You haven’t heard from your mate for a week and you haven’t thought to try to contact her?” Rhys interjects, disappointment laced in his tone as he stares down Azriel from across the table, his honed gaze rivaling Nesta’s.

“She–She hasn’t left her apartment since last Saturday.” Azriel grits out, stopping anyone else from their questioning. “She thinks I want to reject her, to reject the bond. And I’m starting to think I should.”

Everyone goes silent then, even Nyx’s babbling is hushed as a thick air of tension fills the large dining room. Azriel’s hands are shaking as he stares at his untouched glass of wine, shadows slashing around his wings angrily now.

“Why do you think that?” Nesta’s the only one brave enough to question him, unafraid of facing the upset male. “What makes you think you should reject the bond?”

“I fucked up. I thought she needed space, thought she was overwhelmed by me, by all of this, by being part of the Inner Circle by default.” he says, a pained expression on his face as he finally looks up to Nesta. “I hurt her and I didn’t even realize it. She needed me and I wasn’t there for her. I can’t figure out how to make it better, I–I don’t know how to take away her pain. I’ve been her mate for less than six months and I’ve already lost her trust in me. I don’t deserve such a sweet creature like her.”

“Do you want to reject the bond?” Nesta persists, and he knows she means to ask if he loves you or not.

“I don’t. But–”

“There’s no but, Azriel.” Cassian interrupts firmly, “You either want to, or you don’t. And you don’t want to reject it, I know you don’t. You’ve never been happier than you were when you realized you had a mate and that it was her. You need to get your head out of your ass, stop pitying yourself and start showing her that you want to be with her. If not, you’re going to kill the poor female. You’re gonna fucking kill her from a broken heart.”

_______________________________________

In all honesty, you don’t know what day it is anymore. You’ve sat in the dark in your apartment above the bookstore all alone for Gods know how long, letting yourself wallow in the sorrow that fills your chest every time you breathe.

You can’t remember the last time you ate, the last time you did anything aside from stare at the wall next to your bed, save for the times that you’ve gone to the bathroom. It truly feels like you’re dying, like you’re withering away into nothing, and you might as well be. You don’t know what day it is, but you do know that Azriel hasn’t tried to contact you since you left the River House on Saturday, you do know that he wants nothing to do with you.

You hadn’t realized how much you had grown to rely on the male’s visits and nervous glances, how much they’d excited you, until they were no more.

The golden thread in your soul quivers every time you think about him, but you don’t let yourself think about missing him for too long. You always shut down before it gets too bad, and push yourself back into the thoughts of self-hatred, the thoughts of how you wish you’d just cease to exist already. There wasn’t anyone around anymore to check on you, anyone to make sure you made it through this bout of depression like there used to be. Your sister and mother have been gone for years, and now your mate, the one who gave you a sliver of hope for the shortest time, is gone too.

When the first knock falls on the door to your apartment, you barely hear it over the incessant ringing in your ears. You choose to ignore it, thinking whoever it is will go away eventually if they stand out in the late evening cold for long enough.

But they don’t.

They knock, and knock, and knock, and knock for what feels like thirty minutes, each knock getting louder and more insistent than the last.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall back asleep to ignore the sound, but it doesn’t work. After what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, the knocking finally stops.

What you don’t hear–or see–in that moment is the shadows that slip under the door at the bottom of the stairs, quietly unlocking it for their master to slip inside, and the other shadows ahead of their master that report back to him about your state before he makes his way up the stairs.

Moments later, you hear the creak of the stairs and your heart sinks, but you feel too weak to move, too weak to save yourself, and for a moment, you thank the Cauldron that some intruder has finally come to put you out of your misery in one way or another.

You don’t expect the weak, broken voice of a male at the top of the stairs as you’re laying with your back towards the threshold, the sadness in an all too familiar voice when you hear, “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.”

It takes every ounce of strength out of Azriel to walk over to the bed after taking in the sight of your studio apartment in complete disarray. The place is unkempt and needs plenty of repairs just from what he can see with a quick scan, but that’s not what hurts his heart the most in the moment. You facing the blank wall, staring mindlessly ahead as you’re curled up in a ball at the edge of your bed is what breaks him. He finally makes his way over to the wall that you’re facing, but you don’t look up at him, unable to take the energy to complete the small gesture.

Azriel falls to his knees in front of you, reaching a hand out to stroke your hair. He takes you in fully then–your unkempt hair, chapped lips, red cheeks and heavy eyes–you truly were dying from a broken heart.

“Y/N,” he says gently, trying to keep his voice as strong as possible while choking back tears. You take a long moment to finally look up at him, a look of confusion and then delusion crossing over your face as you do–you had to be dreaming him, right?

“I’m–I’m so fucking sorry, love. Gods, how long have you been laying here?” he says, and you only blink up at him because you’re not even sure of the answer, numb to it all at this point. “Are–Do you want me to help you? Can I help you somehow, please? I–I wanna fix this, I wanna make you better.”

A strange noise leaves your throat then as your brow furrows at his words, your delusions during depressive episodes have never said anything like this to you before, and that’s when it all feels too real. You slowly realize that this is very much the real Azriel kneeling in front of you with tears shimmering in his eyes, clasping your very clammy hand between his very warm ones. Tears brim in your own eyes now, the weight of the entire situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You’d ruined yourself before he’d even broken the bond, so now you’ve hurt him by somehow signaling to him of your suffering.

“‘M sorry, A–Azriel,” you croak out, the first words to have left your lips in days.

“S–You’re sorry?” he says, voice more stern than before, shaking his head persistently, “No–No, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, love.” He squeezes your icy hand then, giving you a weak, bitter smile, “I’m sorry for not coming sooner, okay? I’m so sorry and I’ll apologize until the day I die for not being here for you when you needed me. I–I wanna help you now, if you’ll let me. Will you let me help you? Can I take you home with me to get you some help?”

Despite the confusion and sadness swirling around in your deprived brain, you nod at the male, who jumps up almost immediately after you nod. He slowly peels the covers off your frail form, heart breaking at the sight of you. He pushes the ache in his chest down to be strong for you then, gently scooping you up into his arms. The two of you are engulfed in shadows seconds later as Azriel shadow-walks to the House of Wind as quickly as he can.

You don’t remember much from your first moments at the House of Wind, other than the fact that there were a lot of people around you in a very short amount of time. You recognized some of them, the High Lord and Lady, along with Cassian and Nesta, but other faces were less familiar. One woman came into the room you laid in, tugging a warm blanket over your body before using what you could only assume was healing power on you. She’d mumbled something to Azriel on her way out before patting him on the shoulder, and that was the last thing you’d remembered before finally falling into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a week.

Sunlight streaming in through the curtains woke you later on, you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been out for but you’re sure it had been for more than a few hours at this point. You groaned lightly as you stretched your weak legs, eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings fully for the first time. The room smelled of mahogany and amber, a familiar and inviting scent you knew too well to not understand whose room you were in.

Though alone at the moment, you know he’s not far, as his shadows skitter excitedly around you as you attempt to sit up in the bed.

The door opens not even two minutes later, the shadowsinger standing in the doorway with a tray of what looked to be steaming food, a glass of water, and some medications. He nearly drops the tray when he sees you sitting up in the middle of his bed, not expecting you to already be awake and so alert. Without a word, he strides over to the large bed, placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair he’d positioned on the side where you laid.

“Hi,” he says with a sharp inhale, giving you a weak smile as he searches your eyes for any emotion he can find.

“H–How long was I out for?” you ask meekly, the full weight of your actions crashing down on you all at once. “How long have I overstayed?”

“What?” he questions, a frown pulling his lips down as his heart sinks. You truly think you’re burdening this male, when all he wants is for you to be safe and to feel loved. “You haven’t overstayed, I brought you here to heal, I wanted you to come here to get better.”

You shake your head then, blinking harshly at him as you refuse to believe what he’s telling you. “N–No, you only came to find me because I’m–I’m stupid and didn’t give you the opportunity to reject the bond before I mourned what we never had.” you insist, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of this, please–please, you can reject it now, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

The level of self destruction going on in your mind was on another level that Azriel couldn’t deign to comprehend in the moment, but he knew it wasn’t just by your own doing. He can see the internal turmoil you’re going through, can feel your peril down the bond that he now realizes you’ve been shrouding in your own shadows for months, can feel the way you’re tearing yourself apart from the inside out. He reaches for you then, hands coming up to cup your cheeks gently as his shadows rub soothing circles along your back to calm you down, though you continue to babble apologetically about how he should hate you and how you’re the one who should be apologizing for everything.

“Y/N, hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” he coos gently, thumbs stroking your cheekbones softly to bring you back to the moment as you finally lock eyes with him, “I don’t want to reject the bond, I never wanted to reject the bond.”

You try to shake your head feverishly, but he doesn’t let you as his hands stay on either side of your face. “Nesta told me about some females she heard outside your store on Sunday, who said some pretty foul things about you.” he begins, having to reign his anger in as he speaks about the females, “Is that something that happened a lot at the store? Did females that come into the bookstore say things to you about us often?”

You can’t even look at him now, dread and self-loathing gnawing at your chest as you think back to all the hateful comments thrown at you throughout the last few months. You shake your head slowly now, brow furrowing as you try to push down the bile rising in your throat.

“No, it only happened a–a few times.” you lie bluntly, staring down into your lap as you try to pull away from his touch again and this time he lets you, watching closely as you attempt to stand from the bed. “I want to take a bath.” you say, attempting to change the subject to something less painful.

Azriel is there to catch you when you all but fall when trying to stand on your own two feet, hands landing on your waist to situate you back on the edge of the bed, “You’re not supposed to be getting up on your own yet. You didn’t eat for almost a whole week, you’re too weak to stand right now.” he says softly, hands firmly planted on your waist still, “Do you want me to take you to the bathroom? This food will still be warm when we return if you’d rather bathe now.”

You nod wordlessly, brow pinched in frustration at your current situation. Azriel easily picks you up, carrying you bridal style into the en suite bathroom and sitting you on the edge of the large tub as he draws a warm bath. He turns the tap off once it’s nearly full, turning on his heels to leave you alone in the bathroom for some privacy.

“A–Azriel,” you call out before he shuts the door, making the male stop in his tracks to face you, heart nearly shattering when you look at him with wide, shameful eyes. “Can you help me bathe?”

The male is at the edge of the tub in an instant, nodding at you gently. He looks away as you strip out of the clothes that you’d been in for a week, tossing the dirty pajamas into a pile at your feet before stepping into the tub slowly. He helps you ease down onto the bottom, letting go of your hand he didn’t realize he’d grabbed once you tug out of his grasp to wrap the arm around your knees you pull into your chest.

You settle into the water, letting the warmth engulf your cold limbs as you lean your head back to dip your hair, up to the scalp, into the water. Azriel gives you a few minutes to relax in the water, watching as your muscles finally relax slightly under the caress of the liquid. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo eventually, eyeing you closely as he pours some into his hands to lather it. You lean your head up as he does, giving him a small nod of invitation before he reaches for your scalp.

There’s nothing but love and tenderness behind his caress, fingers combing through your damp hair to thoroughly clean it. He’s careful with every movement, making sure to not make the wrong move and send you spiraling for one reason or another.

It’s such a tender moment as he gently tilts you back to rinse your hair with a cup of water that it nearly makes you sob, but hold back for him to continue.

“Can you promise me that you won’t ever let yourself get like this again?” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he runs conditioner through your hair. “I–I don’t know if I can handle seeing you so sad ever again. I won’t let you destroy yourself over my stupidity, not when I’m the one to blame for this whole situation.”

You tense at his words, chest tightening as you hear his voice crack when he chokes back tears. It takes you a moment, but you finally turn to face him, your own tears blurring your vision as you look up at the hazel-eyed male.

“It’s–It’s not your fault, Azriel.” you say, shaking your head insistently at him, “It’s my fault for making you feel obligated to be nice to me, I–I know you didn’t ask to be mated to a lowly, lesser fae bookshop owner when there’s plenty of beautiful high fae females out there ready to accept your hand in marriage at the drop of a hat. I shouldn’t have tried to pursue you after the bond snapped, I–I should’ve let you reject it then so you could go be happy with whoever you want to be with.”

“It’s you I want to be with, Y/N.” he insists, hands shaking as they fall from your head. He falls to his knees then, pivoting so he’s face-to-face with you when he continues, “I don’t care that you’re lesser fae, I fucking hate that you’re considered that anyways, it’s a disgusting term. I’m not even a high fae myself, I don’t care about title or status or whatever else, I only care that I’ve finally found my mate.” Azriel is trying his damndest to keep himself from falling apart as he speaks, “My mate, the love of my life, the one that I get to spend the rest of my days with. I know you feel like I pushed you away and I know I made you feel unwanted, but I thought you wanted space. I know now that you don’t, and I promise you that I’ll spend every waking moment, from now until we die, showing you that I am so fucking happy that you of all people are my mate. I love you.”

Whether he realizes it or not, Azriel projects his passion and love down the bond in the moment. Your deceitful brain would’ve told you he was lying had it not been for that tug and flow of warmth between your souls, if it had not been for the true, unadulterated ache you felt in your chest when he said that he was happy that you were his mate.

Tears well up in your eyes once more as you stare at him, really taking him in, in full form, for the first time. He’s so beautiful, and though there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that still tells you that he’s lying, deep down you know that he’s all yours. Something blooms in your chest then, something stronger than you’ve ever felt, something so compelling that you can’t just sit and stare at him anymore.

You don’t say anything as you continue to stare up at him, reaching your shaky hands out of the water to cup his cheeks. He almost flinches when you do, taken aback by you initiating the touch, but he doesn’t. With the strength gifted to you by the love confession of your mate, you’re able to maneuver onto your knees and tug him a little closer, crashing your lips into his in a gentle, watery kiss.

“I love you, Azriel.” you murmur against his lips when you finally pull away from the kiss for a short moment.

He smiles against your lips, pulling you back in for another kiss as his hands grip your forearms to keep you from slipping in the tub.

“We really need to get you cleaned up before we can finish this conversation, yeah?” he encourages in between kisses, smoothing down your wet hair as it drips on the side of the tub.

You breathe out a laugh, nodding at him before turning to let him continue washing your hair, and then moving on to your body. Each touch threatens to set you on fire, but there’s no sexual intention behind them, only loving caresses meant to wash you clean of the last week of pain.

After getting you out of the shower, Azriel slowly dresses you in one of his large shirts, mumbling an apology about how he’ll be sure to bring some of your clothes over if you’d like him to. You only smile at him softly, knowing you’ll be bringing more than a few of your items over soon enough.

He insists that you eat after your bath, bringing you back to the bed where the soup is still steaming hot, likely thanks to the House that Azriel explained was imbued with magic and would do anything you wished it to. You eat the stew after taking the handful of medications and strength tonic that the healer, Madja, had given him for you, relishing the feeling of the warm food settling in your stomach.

The change in your energy level after the strength tonic is astonishing. You feel as though you can run for days, but know better than to try something like that in front of your terrified mate. But, there is one thing that you feel like you need to do at the moment, something that’s long overdue.

You’re laying in Azriel’s arms when you finally get your burst of energy, sitting up abruptly enough to make him sit up with you. There’s a look of wild concern on his face when he reaches for your hips, steadying you as you pull your legs to the side of the bed.

“Are you alright?” he questions immediately, brow furrowing when you miraculously stand on your own two feet. “Do you need something? The House can get you whatever you need.”

You give him a small smile, leaning down to caress his cheek before kissing his forehead gently.

“I wanna get this thing myself,” you state matter-of-factly as he raises a brow at you. “You stay right here, alright?”

Before he can protest, you’re walking towards the door of the bedroom to swing it open. You shut the door behind you, leaving the male in the room without a word.

The House is magic alright, you confirm that when you’re on your way down the stairs and it lights the way for you, only letting the fae lights on the direct path towards the kitchen light the way. It knew exactly what you were doing.

You’re met with a cutting board, a block of cheese, a loaf of bread and a bowl of grapes next to an empty plate when you enter the kitchen, a lone fae light above the counter lighting the area so you can prepare the plate. You make quick work of cutting the cheese and bread, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking incessantly as you saw into the sourdough. It only takes you a few minutes to lay everything out on the plate and the House takes care of the rest, then you’re on your way back upstairs, on your way to change your life forever.

Azriel shifts quickly on the bed when you return, sitting up straight as he locks eyes with you. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest when his eyes flicker down to the plate of food in your hand, realizing what you were up to when you left the room.

You give him a nervous smile, gripping the plate with two hands as you make your way over to the bed, careful not to tip its contents onto the floor as you quiver. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating in the moment, as you feel like it’s about to beat through your ribcage with one more loud thump.

“Y/N…” he trails as you shakily extend the plate to him when you perch on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with a look you can only describe as certainty. “Are you sure about this? You want to accept the bond right now?”

“If you don’t eat this food right now, you might as well send me back to my little old apartment so I can try to die of a broken heart again.” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you give him a watery smile and push the plate closer to him.

He takes the plate from you then, but doesn’t grab any food at first, looking back up at you before he does. He leans over, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss before taking a shuddering breath.

“I promise you that after this bond is accepted, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you are so much more than all of those evil things that those females said about you. I’ll spend every waking moment showing you how perfect you are and making up for the time that we didn’t get to spend together,” he begins, planting a kiss on your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, Azriel.” you whisper, “now eat that food, please. I’m tired of waiting.”

He smiles at you then, leaning back on the bed as he grabs for a piece of bread and cheese, ready to spend the rest of his eternal life with you, with his mate.

_______________________________________

It takes almost a whole month for the mating frenzy to die down enough for the two of you to be able to integrate back into society. Rhys insisted on letting the two of you stay in the Cabin for your time away, but you opted to spend your time in Summer in a secluded bungalow for the four weeks instead.

When you do return to Velaris after your time away, Azriel insists on taking another week off from spymaster duties to get your bookstore back on track and to help move your belongings to the House of Wind while the two of you look for your very own home, somewhere closer to the Rainbow where you can continue to run your bookstore. You don’t dare to protest your mate’s wishes, letting him alternate between packing the little amount of things you have upstairs and taking inventory in the store while you run the register.

It’s a sunny Saturday when you open your doors for the first time after over a month of being closed, and you’re much busier than you’d expected to be in all honesty, though it seems many of the females coming in are just being nosy to see how true it is that you’re actually back in the flesh.

There are less snide remarks thrown your way now, but still enough that they make you flinch every once in a while. They don’t bother you anymore, though. During your time away, Azriel showed you how much you meant to him and how beautiful he thought you were in many ways, with his mouth, with his hands, with his tongue, with his…

“Do you think she’s single again? Like…do you think he actually rejected the bond?” you hear a high fae female say on the far end of your busy shop, her eyes darting in your direction as she speaks to a friend.

“I hope so, there’s no way he actually–Oh my Gods.” her friend says, eyes wide when they fall on none other than the shadowsinger himself emerging from the back room of your store, a dozen books in hand.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face as Azriel walks behind the checkout counter to press a kiss to your forehead before placing the books next to you. The sound of the females whispering hastily falls on deaf ears as your mate turns to you, grabbing a small piece of paper off the top of the pile of books he’d been holding.

“Found six more copies of both of those romance novels you said you were out of, so no need to order more until those are gone.” he says while pointing at the books. “You really need a better inventory system.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just hire you to do it for me instead, since you’re so good at it.” you tease, shooting him a smirk.

“As long as I’m compensated fairly, I wouldn’t mind.” he jokes with a wink, pulling you in for an embrace to speak to you lowly. “On another note, you are officially fully moved into the House of Wind. So once you’re closed up for the day, we’ll be able to go home and officially christen the bedroom.”

“We’ve already christened that bedroom,” you giggle, rolling your eyes at him, “it’s been thoroughly christened, multiple times at this point. And if I remember correctly, it’s the first place that was christened by us.”

“And?” he says, lips quirked up into a smirk, “I plan on christening it multiple times tonight, and the next night, and the night after that…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laugh, slapping his chest lightly as you pull out of his grip, “You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re beautiful and the love of my life.” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It was safe to say that you’re getting nowhere past the mating frenzy phase of your relationship anytime soon.

And you’re okay with that.

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#azriel #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #acotar x reader

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aeralux · 5 months ago

Text

"Bet You Wanna (love me now)" - Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader (Targaryen!Reader)

Summary: Alys Rivers, the bastard whore who has plagued your arranged marriage to Aemond from the very start. But every woman has her limits, and you have reached yours. In a harsh ultimatum, you finally get her banished. But from whom was Aemond to seek pleasure now?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; targcest; mentioned infidelity; profanity; degradation; intense sex scene; fingering; breeding kink; angst; mentions of murder; canon mean Aemond

Words: 11.1 k

Notes: The reader is Targaryen with white hair (mentioned as Daemon's daughter), no other description is mentioned. If you do not like this content, do not engage with it.

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Alys. It has always been Alys Rivers—the baseborn witch of Harrenhal, whose allure captured the heart of Aemond Targaryen.

In the noble life, it was hardly an anomaly for a highborn Lord to indulge in the pleasures of mistresses and whores, particularly a Prince of the realm. Yet Alys was no ordinary concubine. She had trapped your husband's affections long before you had even graced his side as his wife, and now her ghost continued to haunt you in the halls of the Red Keep. Her presence plagued not only your marriage but threatened the very fabric of your family.

You could endure the role of the resentful wife, having inherited your father's indifference—Daemon taught you all too well that a woman's worth was often measured in the fickle affections of men. However, misfortune struck when you bore a daughter. A daughter, born in a time that could not be worse, coinciding with the moment Alys also delivered an heir to your husband—a bastard boy with black hair.

You had given the Prince a sweet, delicate child with the striking features of Valyrian heritage and silver-gold hair; you had hoped that his devotion would grow anew with this gift of lineage. Oh, how mistaken you were.

In the wake of your child’s birth, Aemond turned his back upon you—a move both cold and calculated. Once you had fulfilled your purpose as a wife, you found yourself and your precious daughter cast aside as though you were no more than commoners unworthy of his regard. After the difficult experience of childbirth, your husband’s visits reduced to a mere whisper of presence. He had no further reason to seek your bed.

Meanwhile, Alys basked in Aemond's undivided admiration. He lavished her and their bastard child with affection and attention, caring for that boy of hers with an affection that often seemed to eclipse the rightful love he should have shown your trueborn daughter. The irony was not lost on you.

As your daughter's first name day drew near, you could feel the rage within you reach its climax. That wench had enjoyed the delight of your husband's affections for nearly two years now, and your patience had frayed to its end. It was far past time that you seized control of your fate—and the fate of your daughter—whether your husband would consent or not.

Fights were all too common between you and Aemond. You refused to remain silent while he insulted your dignity and that of your precious daughter. His bold displays with his mistress, treating her as a cherished lover, were a constant insult, especially as he neglected his rightful heir and wife.

Once again, he had opted to waste an afternoon with his two bastards instead of honouring the presence of his legitimate daughter. Fuelled by resentment, you strode intentionally into the gardens, ready to confront him and demand the respect your daughter deserved.

"How dare you act this way after showing such disgust for Jacaerys and his brothers?" You hiss, your gaze boring into him like a dagger.

You take a step closer, and your smaller frame does not diminish the threat you pose. "Now you go and bed a baseborn harlot, and she bears your son, no less!" You spit out venomously.

Your voice rises to a scream as you get right up in his face. "Treat me however you wish, but if you continue to treat our legitimate daughter with disregard..." you growl, your words dripping with barely contained rage. "I will gut your whore and feed your bastard son to Cannibal, make no mistake. And our precious girl and I will watch him scream as he burns."

You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear as you whisper the promise, your tone low and deadly. "Do not test me on this, Aemond. I am not some meek little maiden to be trifled with. I am a Targaryen, the daughter of the Rogue Prince, and I will stay true to my words. Choose your actions wisely, or face the consequences."

With that, you push past him roughly and storm off, your heart pounding and your mind already plotting your next move. This cannot stand. Your child will not suffer at the hands of that vile creature - not if you have anything to say about it.

Aemond's eye narrows dangerously at your threats, his jaw clenching as he takes a menacing step towards you. The violet of his good eye seems to darken, swirling with anger and desire.

"You dare threaten me, wench?" he growls, his voice low and menacing. He grabs your arm roughly, yanking you back towards him. "I am a prince of House Targaryen, and you will show me the respect I deserve!"

His grip on your arm tightens painfully as he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your face. "Your daughter is a pitiful whelp, just like her mother. She's lucky I acknowledge her at all."

"As for that 'baseborn harlot'..." he sneers, his lips curling in disgust. "She provides me with pleasure that you never could. At least she knows how to obey her prince."

Suddenly, his hold on you shifts, one hand sliding down to grab your ass possessively. "Perhaps I should remind you of your place, wife. Maybe then you'll learn to keep that sharp tongue of yours in check."

You push Aemond away forcefully, your eyes flashing with rage and defiance. Your slender fingers dig into his chest as you shove him back.

"I find no pleasure in feeding a dog that gets his treats from someone else," you scoff, your voice dripping with disdain. The corners of your mouth curl up into a smirk.

Your long white hair whips around your face as you turn your head, a mocking laugh escaping your lips. You step closer, your form exuding an aura of dangerous grace. Leaning in, you purr, "If you dare show Alys in court... trust me, her little powers have nothing on fire. After all, witches burn, my dear husband."

You pull back, your gaze boring into his with unwavering intensity. Your hand reaches up to stroke his cheek, a falsely tender gesture that belies the threat beneath your words. "Choose your actions carefully, Aemond. A Targaryen princess is not so easily cowed."

Aemond's eye narrows at your defiant words, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He grips your wrist tightly as you stroke his cheek, his nostrils flaring in barely restrained anger. Suddenly, he spins you around, slamming you against the nearest tree trunk. His body presses against yours, pinning you in place as he leans in close, his voice a menacing whisper.

"Careful, little girl," he hisses, his breath hot against your neck. "You may be a Targaryen, but I am still your husband. And husbands have the right to punish their wives when they misbehave."

His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip possessively. "Perhaps I should remind you of your duties. You're here to bear me, sons, not make empty threats."

Aemond's lips brush against your ear, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr."And if you think I'm afraid of your father's reputation, you're mistaken. I've faced dragons, little dove. What makes you think you can threaten me?"

He nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Now, why don't you run along and tend to your brat?"

With a rough shove, Aemond steps back, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and desire. He adjusts himself, his posture strong and commanding as he looks down at you. "Remember your place, wife. Or I might just have to take drastic measures to ensure your obedience."

You walk away without another word, a cruel plan already taking shape in your mind. You stride purposefully towards the kitchens, your long white hair flowing behind you.

Inside the bustling chambers, maids scurry about, preparing dishes and tending to various tasks. But your sharp gaze locks on Lyra, one of your servants. You approach her discreetly, pulling her aside.

"Lyra," you whisper urgently, your light violet eyes boring into hers. "I need your help with something important. Tonight, before Aemond retires, ensure that his bastard drinks Hemlock tea. Not enough to kill him, but to make him very ill. And keep this between us."

You press a purse heavy with coins into her hand. "You'll be handsomely rewarded for your service."

With that, you turn and leave as abruptly as you arrived, your mind already turning to the sweet revenge that awaits.

The maid's eyes widen in shock at your whispered instructions, fear and curiosity dancing across her features. She nods silently, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips as she watches you leave, clutching the promise of reward.

Satisfied that your plan is in motion, you make your way back to your chambers. But as you step inside, you're greeted by an unexpected sight - Aemond, lounging on your bed, a smug grin on his face.

"And where have you been, my dear?" he drawls, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I was beginning to worry that you'd run off with another lover."

You glare at him, your violet eyes flashing dangerously as you cross your arms over your chest. "Unlike you, I don't parade my lover through the castle halls. And unlike you, my lover is a Lord, not some bastard."

You spit the words at him, your voice dripping with loathing. Rolling your eyes, you let out a mocking laugh. "Going through the motions of being a doting husband must be so tiring for you. Why don't you run along and spend some quality time with your precious little Alys? I'm sure she's waiting for you eagerly."

Tonight, he'll learn the foolishness of undervaluing you. He'll see that you meant every word and that if he continues to neglect your daughter, his bastard son will pay the price.

You incline your head, a fake smile playing on your lips. "Well? Are you going to leave, or do I need to call the guards to remove you? I wouldn't want to cause a scene. You might be a prince, but I'm a princess, and my guards listen to me."

Aemond's face darkens at your words, his jaw clenching as he rises from the bed. He stalks towards you. His movements are predatory until he's standing mere inches away. His good eye bores into yours, filled with a mix of anger and intrigue.

"Careful, little dove," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You play a dangerous game. You think you can manipulate me with your words and your petty threats?"

Suddenly, his hand lashes out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "I am a dragon rider, a prince of House Targaryen. I've faced worse than you and your little schemes."

Aemond leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But by the gods, I admire your spirit. It's been far too long since anyone dared to challenge me like this."

He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as it roams over your face. "So tell me, my feisty wife, what do you propose we do about this... tension between us?"

Your smirk widens into a wicked grin as you deliver your parting shot. "Well then, seeing as you've repeatedly said how I 'fail to pleasure you', I suppose I'll simply have to take matters into my own hands."

You raise an eyebrow, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "My guess is you'll scurry off to Alys' quarters, forcing her to cater to your every whim. And while you're busying yourself with your precious whore..."

You pause, letting the anticipation hang in the air between you.

"...I'll be here, enjoying the company of my lover. We'll fuck on every surface of this room until I can't walk or speak. Until the only word I can remember is his name as he brings me to ecstasy again and again."

You lean forward, your voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps the problem isn't me, but you? That maybe a man who appreciates my skills, who shows me the respect and appreciation I deserve, might find me to be quite satisfactory indeed?"

You toss your head back and chuckle, the sound tinged with bitterness. "But then again, I doubt a man like you would ever understand the concept of mutual pleasure or satisfaction. You're far too focused on your desires to bother with mine."

With that, you turn on your heel and stalk towards the door, your long white hair swishing behind you. You pause and glance back over your shoulder, motioning for him to leave.

"Enjoy your evening, my lord. I certainly intend to."

"You think your little lover can satisfy you more than I can?" he mocks. "You forget, wife, that I am a man who has taken cities and slain men. I don't need to be grateful for anything." He strides over to you.

Suddenly, he spins you around, pressing your back against his chest as his arms wrap around you in an iron grip. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "But perhaps you're right. Perhaps I haven't been... attentive enough in our marital duties."

One hand slides up from your waist, cupping your breast roughly through your gown. "Let me show you what a real dragon can do, little dove. I'll fuck you so hard, you'll forget your name, let alone your lover's."

Aemond's teeth graze your neck, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. "What do you say, my wife? Shall we put your claims to the test? Or are you all talk and no action?"

"How do you know he isn't a 'dragon' as well?" You question him, your tone dripping with disdain as you break free from his grasp.

"If you had been a good husband and father, you'd have at least three children by now. But you decided to bed a bastard whore instead. Who has provided you with only one son, with black hair and no dragon. He is no Targaryen. He is a Rivers. And he always will be."

You fix him with a cold stare, your eyes flashing with barely contained rage. "I will have your son, do not worry your empty head... but only once the whore is gone from King's Landing."

Aemond's face contorts with rage at your words, his good eye blazing with fury. He advances on you, backing you up against the wall with the sheer force of his presence.

"You dare speak of my son that way?" he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. "He is the son of a Targaryen prince, and that makes him a prince as well. More than you can ever claim for yourself."

His hand shoots out, wrapping around your throat as he leans in close. His breath is hot against your face as he continues, "Perhaps I should remind you of your place, wench. You are my wife, and you will bear me more children, whether you like it or not."

Aemond's grip on your throat tightens slightly, not enough to cut off your air entirely, but enough to make breathing difficult. "As for Alys... she stays where she belongs. By my side."

He releases your throat suddenly, shoving you away from him. As you stumble back, he straightens his waistcoat, his posture regal and commanding. "Consider this a warning. Keep your tongue in check, or face the consequences. I am not a man to be trifled with."

You let out a loud, mocking laugh as Aemond released you from his bruising grip. "Oh, Aemond," you say, your voice dripping with disgust. "The very notion that I would fear you is hilarious. Believe me when I say that I am the last person who would be frightened by your empty threats."

Your eyes flash with a wicked gleam as you fix him with a knowing smile. "As for your precious whore, Alys... her days of bearing your bastards are numbered. Her last birth nearly killed her. Her womb is weak, Aemond. She won't survive another pregnancy."

You take a step closer, your voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Now, I suggest you leave my chambers."

Your hand rests on the hilt of the dagger at your belt, a silent threat hanging in the air between you. "Run along, my dear husband. Go play with your mistress and your bastard child. Just remember..." you hiss, your eyes narrowing. "You underestimate me at your risk."

With a dismissive wave, you turn your back on him. "Out. Now."

Aemond's face contorts with rage at your words, his good eye blazing with a mix of anger and... respect? He takes a stepforward, his hand reaching out as if to grab you again, but stops himself. After a moment of tense silence, he speaks, his voice low and menacing.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he growls, his jaw clenched tight. "Playing your little games, threatening my mistress, my son..."

Aemond's eyes roam over you, a predatory gleam in his gaze. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I have been too lenient with you. A dragon needs to be handled firmly, after all."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your chin, forcing you to meet his intense stare. "I will deal with Alys myself. She is mine, and no one threatens what's mine."

He turns to leave, pausing at the doorway to look back over his shoulder. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot. Consider this a warning - cross me again, and you'll regret it."

With those ominous words, Aemond strides out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering threat of his presence.

With shaking hands, you ring for your maid as soon as Aemond leaves your chambers. When she arrives, you issue your orders in a clear, even voice, though inside your heart races with anticipation and trepidation.

"Double the dose of hemlock in the son's cup tonight," you instruct, your tone bearing no argument. "Leave him teetering on the brink of death's door."

As the maid scurries off to fulfil her mistress' dark command, a wicked smile plays across your lips. They will never suspect that you alone hold the key to saving Aemond's precious bastard from a slow, agonising demise.

And what a neat little trap you've set for your dear husband. Poison his son (but not to kill him, you're not that cruel), give him an ultimatum, and then dangle the antidote before him like a carrot. All he must do is love you, truly love your daughter, and you shall release him from his desperation.

As the day wears on, you find yourself unable to focus on anything but the impending confrontation with Aemond. Every fibre of your being is tense, waiting for the moment when your plan will come to fruition.

Evening falls, and you're seated in your solar, pretending to read a book, but your mind is miles away. The sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention, and you look up to see Aemond bursting into the room, his face pale and eyes wild with panic.

"Where is he?" he demands, his voice frantic. "Where's my son?"

You set aside your book, a cruel smile playing on your lips as you stand to face him. "Oh, Aemond. So concerned for your bastard, are you?" you taunt, relishing the fear in his eyes.

"He's ill," you continue, feigning concern. "Very ill. The maids tell me he's been vomiting all evening and can barely keep anything down. It's a shame, really. He's always been such a healthy boy."

You take a step closer, your voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Of course, I have something that could help. A special remedy passed down through generations on my mother's side. But..." you pause, letting the tension build. "I'm not sure I want to share it. Not until you give me what I want."

Aemond's face contorts with rage and desperation, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "What do you want?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Name your price, and it's yours."

You stare at him, your violet eyes locking with his sapphire one. The moment has arrived, the power is yours. What will you demand of the man who has wronged you for so long?

Your frame radiates an aura of controlled rage as you speak, your voice low and deadly.

"Send. Them. Away," you enunciate each word carefully as if speaking to a slow-witted child. "Alys and your bastard by dawn's light. They will never set foot in this city again, and you will never breathe their names aloud. If you fail to comply, I will ensure that your precious 'son' suffers a fate worse than death."

You pause, allowing the weight of your threat to settle over him. When you continue, your voice is dripping with scorn. "I will not be made a fool by a man who cannot control his urges. Your prick may wander where it pleases, but your illegitimate offspring is a reflection upon me. This...this abomination will be removed from sight."

Your lip curls in disgust as you look upon Aemond, the realisation of your words sinking in. "Do this, or face the consequences. The choice is yours but choose wisely. I am not a woman to be trifled with."

Aemond's face contorts with rage at your ultimatum, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggles to contain his anger. After a moment, he speaks, his voice low and menacing.

"You think you hold all the cards, don't you?" he growls, taking a menacing step towards you. "You think you can threaten me and expect me to bend to your will?"

"Fine. You want Alys gone? She'll be on the first ship out of Blackwater Bay come morning. But know this - if anything happens to my son, if he so much as sneezes out of turn, I will rain down hell upon you and everything you hold dear."

Aemond leans in close, his breath hot against your face. "And as for your little 'reward'..." he hums, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I hope you enjoy it. Because it's the last taste of victory you'll ever have over me."

Aemond is not a man to be underestimated, and you know that he will not forget this transgression easily. But for now, you have what you want. Tomorrow, Alys and her bastard son will be gone.

With a cold smile, you rise to your feet, your form exuding an aura of controlled power. Your striking eyes lock onto Aemond's as you reveal, "Give me your son. I know how to help him."

In your years at court, you've secretly studied botany and alchemy, learning to cure even the deadliest poisons, along with the knowledge of your mother's ancestors. This wisdom is your secret weapon, one that you've kept hidden until now.

You step closer to Aemond, your long white hair cascading over your shoulders as you tilt your head to the side. "Let me be clear, Aemond. I am the only one who can save your bastard son. Whatever your son has contracted seems to be fatal, but with the right ingredients and a skilled hand, he can still be saved."

"You have two choices. You can continue to play this game of power and risk losing your son forever, or you can hand him over to me. Alys might have premonitions of the future, but that is useless right now, isn't it?"

Your voice drops to a dangerous whisper as you lean in close, your faces mere inches apart. "What will it be, Aemond? Choose wisely, for your son's life hangs in the balance."

Aemond stares at you for a long moment, his face an unreadable mask. Then, slowly, the tension drains from his shoulders, and he nods once, sharp and decisive.

"You win," he says, his voice heavy with reluctance. "My son is yours. Do what you must to save him."

Without another word, he turns and strides from the room, leaving you alone with your triumph. You allow yourself a moment of satisfaction before setting your mind to the task at hand.

You make your way through the castle, your heart pounding with anticipation and a hint of fear. You know what you're doing, but there's always a risk when dealing with poisons and cures. As you enter the nursery, you find the bastard child writhing in pain, his small body wracked with convulsions.

Ignoring the concerned looks of the maids, you set to work, mixing various herbs and tinctures with practised ease. You feed the concoction to the child, holding him steady as he chokes and sputters. It's a long, gruelling process, but eventually, his breathing begins to even out, and the colour returns to his cheeks.

Exhausted but triumphant, you rise from the bed, stretching your stiff muscles. Aemond enters the room then, his face etched with worry and gratitude. You hold the black-haired boy gently in your arms, cooing as you set him on the bed, caressing his hair as a mother would.

Aemond stands in the doorway, watching as you carefully tend to his son. His expression is a mix of relief and bafflement, his single eye roaming over the scene before him. He takes a hesitant step forward, his voice is soft and uncertain.

"He's... he's going to live?" he asks, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving only a concerned father.

You look up at him, your gaze is steadfast as you meet his stare. There's a moment of charged silence between you, the weight of your actions hanging heavy in the air.

"Yes," you finally respond, your voice carrying a hint of triumph. "Your son will live. But only because I chose to save him."

Aemond's jaw clenches, a flicker of anger crossing his features before it's replaced by a grudging acceptance. "Thank you," he mutters, the words difficult for him to say.

He moves to the bedside, gently taking his son into his arms. The boy stirs, his small hand reaching for his father's face. Aemond's expression softens, love and pride evident in his eyes as he gazes down at the child.

"You did well," he says, glancing up at you briefly before focusing his attention back on his son. "I... I underestimated you. Perhaps there is more to you than I realised."

It's not exactly a declaration of love or devotion, but for Aemond, it's as close to an apology as you're likely to get. You incline your head slightly, acknowledging his words without comment.

You smooth the damp cloth across the boy's feverish brow, your fingers lingering on the soft skin of his cheek. You'll never know it was I who made you sick, little one. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. And neither will Aemond know.

You pull back, your violet eyes hardening as you look at Aemond with a stern stare. "I've changed my mind on one thing," you say curtly, tucking the quilt snugly around the child. "The boy can stay... if you treat our daughter with the same affection as you have him. If not..." your voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "He will be sent away to Harrenhall."

"This is the best offer you will get from me," You say, your voice laced with finality. "Your beloved son's fate rests in your hands."

Without waiting for a response, you turn and stride from the room, your heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. The game has changed, and now, you hold all the cards. Let's see how long Aemond's pride can withstand the weight of his new reality.

Aemond watches you go, his jaw clenched tight as he struggles to contain his anger and frustration. He knows he's been beaten, and by his wife, no less. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but he's not a fool. He knows when he's been outmanoeuvred.

Over the next few months, a strange new dynamic settles over the castle. Aemond is more attentive to you and more concerned with your opinions and desires. He's trying to make amends to ensure that you don't turn against him again.

For your part, you remain aloof and distant, content to let Aemond squirm under the weight of your power. You spend your days tending to your duties, meeting with advisors, and always keeping a close eye on the bastard child.

Your daughter, meanwhile, seems to thrive under the new arrangement. She and her brother have grown closer, and you often catch them playing together with their maids, their laughter echoing through the halls.

One evening, as you're preparing for bed, Aemond enters your chambers without knocking. He's dressed in his riding leathers, his hair still damp from getting caught in the rain. He looks tired, but there's a new light in his eye.

You gasped sharply as Aemond burst into your chambers without warning, your heart leaping into your throat. The flimsy silk of your black nightgown clings to your curves, leaving little to the imagination, as the oppressive summer heat makes the sheer fabric stick to your skin.

"What do you think you're doing, barging in here like that?" You demand, your voice is icy despite the flush creeping up your neck. Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you try to conceal your breasts and hardened nipples from his bold glare. "What brings you here at this late hour, husband?"

Your tone is crisp and unwelcoming despite the warmth pooling low in your belly at the sight of him. You've trained yourself to maintain this frigid facade, never letting him see how his presence affects you. But deep down, a part of you yearns for his touch, his approval, even as you keep him at arm's length.

Aemond's single eye rakes over you hungrily, taking in every inch of exposed skin. You refuse to let your posture falter, even as desire simmers beneath the surface.

"Well?" You demand, arching a brow imperiously. "Unless you have an urgent matter to discuss, I suggest you leave me to my privacy."

Your voice wavers slightly, betraying your unease. You're acutely aware of how thin the silk is, how easily he could shred it away with one tug. The thought sends a shiver down your spine.

Aemond's lips curl into a slow, wicked smile, and you feel your knees go weak. Gods, what is he doing to you? You are a princess of House Targaryen, and yet in his presence, you feel like nothing more than a mewling kitten, desperate for his attention.

"This is highly inappropriate," you manage to grit out, even as your body betrays you.

Aemond's gaze rakes over your form, lingering on the curves of your body as they're revealed by the thin silk of your nightgown. He licks his lips, his desire is evident in the hungry look in his remaining eye.

"My apologies, wife," he purrs, his voice low and seductive. "I didn't mean to startle you. But I couldn't wait any longer."

He takes a step closer. "I've been thinking about you. About us."

His voice drops to a husky whisper, and he brings his face close to yours, his breath hot against your skin. "We've been at odds for too long."

Aemond stands even closer to you now, you can feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles beneath his clothes.

"I know I've been an arse," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

You're conflicted as you stand before Aemond. You want to scoff at his attempt to win you over, but the raw desire in his eyes is unmistakable. He looks at you like he wants to devour you whole, and it both frightens and excites you.

Stepping back, you try to compose yourself, but the heat of the summer night seems to intensify, leaving you feeling hot and breathless. Aemond hasn't seen you like this in Gods know how long, not since you fell pregnant and he no longer needed to lay with you.

"Is that so?" You ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've been thinking about me, have you? Now that your mistress is gone and I'm finally good enough for you?"

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the way your heart races at his proximity. You've always found Aemond repulsive, his cruelty and infidelity driving a wedge between you. But seeing him dote on your daughter these past months has softened some of the ice around your heart.

"You're not fooling me, Aemond," you continue, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. "I know your games. But I'll admit, this newfound interest in me is... intriguing, to say the least."

Aemond's lips curl into a smirk, his good eye glittering with amusement and desire. He takes another step forward, closing the distance between you once more.

"Intriguing, huh?" he purrs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the delicate line of your jaw. "Well, maybe I'm just realising what I've been missing."

His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh through the thin silk of your nightgown. You can feel the heat of his touch, the promise of more to come.

"I've been a fool," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your throat. "I've let my pride and my lust cloud my judgment. But not anymore."

He pulls back slightly, his eye searching yours for any sign of resistance. But he sees none, only the flicker of desire that matches his own.

"You're a force to be reckoned with, my lady wife. Beautiful, intelligent, and deadly when crossed. How could I not be drawn to you?"

His lips find yours in a searing kiss, demanding and passionate. It's a kiss that speaks of pent-up desire, anger and passion.

As he pulls you closer, you feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your stomach, a reminder of the power you hold over him. It's intoxicating, the way he wants you, the way he needs you.

But even as you melt into his embrace, a small part of you whispers a warning. Aemond is a master manipulator, and this could all be just another one of his games.

The worries in the back of your mind fade away as you feel Aemond's rough hands grip your rear, kneading the soft flesh. He's never touched you with such raw passion, such primal hunger. Reluctantly, you admit to yourself that you love it.

You whimper into the kiss, your hands tangling in his still slightly damp hair. You need him to know exactly what he's been missing out on all this time. You want him to regret every moment he spent with that whore in the tower.

Breaking away from his lips, you trail bites along the pale column of his throat, marking his skin with dark purple splotches. With your tongue, you soothe each spot, leaving no doubt as to who now claims him.

"Now the whole court will know that the prince has finally come to his senses," you murmur against his skin, "and bedded his beautiful lady wife."

Aemond groans, his hands roaming your body with a newfound urgency. He grips your hips, grinding against you, his hard length throbbing with need.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice ragged with desire. "I've wasted so much time, chasing after foolish fantasies. You're the one I should have wanted all along."

He tears your nightgown open, baring your body to his hungry gaze. His calloused hands cup your breasts, thumbing your nipples until they pebble under his touch. His mouth latches onto one breast, sucking and biting.

Your breath catches in your throat as Aemond's mouth closes around your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You gasp and moan, arching into his touch, craving more.

"So fucking perfect," he rasps, leaning down to take the other nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard, grazing the sensitive bud with his teeth.

Aemond steps back, his eye raking over your naked form. "Beautiful," he breathes, his gaze heavy with lust. "I've been a fool to deny myself this for so long."

When he releases your nipples, stepping back to admire his handiwork, you feel empty, aching for his mouth back on your sensitive flesh.

You stand before him, your torn nightgown hanging off your shoulders, exposing your breasts and stomach to his heated gaze. The fabric clings to your hips, the tear running down the front, barely concealing your most intimate place. You're flushed, your chest heaving with anticipation, waiting for his next move.

Aemond drinks in the sight of you, his eye dark with desire. "Exquisite," he breathes, his voice rough with want. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the path of the tear, teasing the edge of the fabric. "I want to rip this off and feast on you until you scream."

You shudder at his words, liquids pooling between your thighs. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "Don't tease me, Aemond."

He grins, a predatory, hungry look on his face. "Oh, I intend to, my lady wife. I intend to make you forget all about that mistress of mine."

In one swift motion, he tears the remains of your nightgown away, leaving you bare before him. His eye travels the length of your body, taking in every curve, every dip, every inch of creamy skin.

"What an idiot I’ve been," he groans, his hand reaching down to palm himself through his breeches. "Seeking pleasure in another when my own wife could put all of the whores in Westeros to shame."

He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed, pushing you down onto the silken sheets. Aemond stands over you, his tall frame looming above you, his gaze burning into you.

"Then why did you?" You demand, your voice sharp with disdain. "I'm not the naive girl you married. I've become a woman since we last shared a bed."

Your legs fall open as you sprawl before Aemond, baring yourself to his hungry gaze. The cool air kisses your heated skin, raising goosebumps across your flesh. You need him to see what he's been denying himself, to foolishly chase after lesser women.

Aemond swallows hard, his eye roving over your body, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. "A woman indeed," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "A goddess."

"Do you have any idea how many lords and knights in this realm burn with envy?" You purr, your voice dripping with bitter amusement. "All because they'll never have a chance at a wife like me. Yet you, my husband, were too blind to appreciate the treasure right in front of you."

You arch your back, pushing your breasts up and out, an offering to the god of war. Your long white hair spills around you like a dark halo, framing your face. You can see the regret and longing in Aemond's eye as he drinks in the sight of you.

He moves to stand at the foot of the bed, his hand trailing up your calf, over your knee, and along your inner thigh. "I was blinded by lust, my lady wife. Blinded by pride, by jealousy, by my own need to prove something."

His fingers brush against your slick folds, and you gasp at the contact.

Aemond's fingers delve deeper, parting your folds, teasing your entrance. "I saw the lust in their eyes, the way they looked at you when they thought I wasn't watching."

Aemond's touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. You moan his name, your hips bucking up against his hand, desperate for more.

Aemond chuckles darkly, his fingers continuing their maddening dance against your most sensitive places. "Did you like that, my dear? The way they stared at you like a piece of meat? The way they ached to have you?"

"Yes," you breathe, your chest heaving with each ragged inhale. "They made me feel desirable when my husband couldn't."

The words escape your lips before you can stop them, fueled by the hurt and anger still simmering beneath the surface. Your hips buck up desperately, seeking the satisfaction Aemond's teasing fingers deny you.

"Fuck," you snarl in frustration, your nails raking down his forearm. "Stop playing games and give me what I need."

You fix him with a defiant glare, your eyes flashing with challenge. "Unless you're too fucked up to perform now that you've realized what a prize you've been neglecting all this time."

Your lips curl into a sneer, a cruel twist of your mouth. "It would serve you right if I also paraded my lover around. Maybe then you'd understand— "

Your words are cut off by your cry as Aemond places a harsh slap against your sopping cunt.

The sound of your cry, of the wet slap against your flesh, sends a bolt of lust straight to Aemond's already throbbing cock. He's never seen you like this, so wanton, so uninhibited. It's intoxicating.

"You want to play dirty, do you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Threaten me with your infidelity? You want someone to fuck you senseless, to claim this sweet cunt as their own?"

He rewards your crude talk with another sharp slap to your pussy, the sound echoing obscenely in the quiet room. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, a fresh flood of wetness coating his palm.

He plunges two fingers into your dripping channel, setting a brutal pace as his fingers pump in and out of you. His thumb circles your clit with a pressure that borders on painful. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"You feel even better than I remember. Gods, if only I had known this tight little cunt was waiting for me," he growls, his fingers pumping harder, faster, stretching you open.

The bed creaks beneath you as Aemond moves, his fingers still pumping into your soaked cunt. You can feel every ridge, every callus as he drives into you relentlessly. It's almost too much, the sensation bordering on pain, but you crave it.

You try to form words, anything to snap back at him, but his fingers are relentlessly hitting your soft spot with each thrust, making you gush all over his hand. Your mind goes blank, lost to the overwhelming sensations. All that escapes your lips are incoherent mumbles and high-pitched whines.

Your brow furrows as you watch him abuse your tight pussy with his long fingers, pumping in and out of your dripping cunt with brutal force. "Fuuuck... Aemond..." you manage to gasp out, your voice ragged and desperate.

Aemond grins wickedly at your desperation, at the way you're clawing at the sheets, your hips bucking up to meet his punishing fingers. Your pussy clenches around him, trying to draw him deeper, greedy for more.

He curls his fingers inside you, rubbing mercilessly against that sensitive spot deep within. Your cries grow louder, more desperate, and he smirks at the sound.

"Fuck, you're so tight. So perfect. I could play with this pretty little pussy all night."

Aemond adds a third finger, stretching you impossibly wider. He curls them just so, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes. Your juices coat his fingers, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasps, his eye drinking in the debauched sight of you spread out before him, his fingers buried in your cunt. "My perfect, filthy wife. So desperate for my cock."

You clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the whorish moans that threaten to escape. You won't let him see how easily he can unravel you, how a few skilful thrusts of his fingers can have you writhing and begging like a common whore.

Your eyes screw shut as he pounds into you relentlessly, his filthy words washing over you, stoking the fire building in your core. You can't help the way your pussy clenches greedily around his invading digits upon hearing his dirty words.

It's humiliating, the way he can so easily turn you into a mewling, desperate creature with just a touch.

But gods, it feels so good. Too good. You squirm underneath him, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, begging for more even as you hate yourself for it. You are losing control, slipping further into the haze of lust with each passing second.

Aemond smirks as he watches you struggle to maintain your composure, the battle written plainly across your face. He can feel your pussy fluttering around his fingers and can hear the muffled moans vibrating against your palm.

"Shh, don't fight it," he croons, his voice a sinful purr. "Let go, my lady wife. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He withdraws his fingers suddenly, denying you the stimulation your body craves. You whine in protest, your hips chasing after his hand.

Aemond brings his drenched fingers to his lips, tasting your essence with a low groan. "Delicious," he purrs, his eye glinting with wicked intent.

He brings his fingers back to your face, painting your lips with your juices before thrusting them into your mouth. "Suck," he demands, his voice brooking no argument. "Get them nice and wet for where they're going next."

As you obey, dutifully licking and sucking his fingers clean, Aemond works at the laces of his breeches, freeing his hard, aching cock. It springs forth, thick and angry, the head already glistening with precum.

"Look at what you've done," he growls, gripping himself in his fist. "You're mine. This cunt belongs to me."

Aemond's arrogant declaration snaps you out of your lust-fueled haze, and you roll your eyes at his audacity. "Do you think I'd forgive you that easily?" You scoff, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "It seems you don't know your wife very well, husband."

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as he grips his leaking cock. "This cunt belongs to me," you remind him coldly. "And if I recall correctly, you didn't even like this cunt in the first place."

You huff out a bitter laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "You'll have to do more than just rut into me like a beast in heat."

Aemond's eye narrows at your words, a flash of anger sparking in their depths. But it's quickly extinguished by a wave of lust as he takes in the sight of you propped up before him, your full breasts heaving with each breath, your hair tumbling around your shoulders.

"You're right," he concedes, his voice rough with desire. "But I do now. And I plan to worship it until you scream."

He stalks towards you, his cock bobbing with each step. He grips your thighs, pushing your legs apart, forcing you to lie back on the bed.

"And I know you all too well, my lady wife," Aemond purred, his voice a dangerous rumble as he settled between your legs.

Aemond's hand snaked out, wrapping around your throat in a firm but not crushing grip. "You're a woman scorned," he growled, his eye boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "Angry and bitter. But I intend to change that. Make you into a dutiful and docile wife."

His fingers tightened just a fraction around your throat, not enough to cut off your air supply, but enough to make your pulse jump in alarm. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding, keeping you pinned beneath him.

"After I'm done with you," he continued, his voice low and menacing, "you'll be as obedient as a puppy. You'll beg for my touch, crave my attention. And you'll forget all about your anger, your resentment. All you'll know is the pleasure I can give you."

He hooks his arms under your knees, pushing your legs up and back, folding you nearly in half. The new position leaves you completely exposed, your dripping pussy on full display.

Aemond takes in the sight with a low groan, his cock twitching in anticipation. "Look at you, spreading yourself open for me like a whore."

He lines himself up with your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against your swollen folds. "Beg for it," he demands, his voice a dark command. "Beg me to claim what's mine."

He doesn't push inside, doesn't give you any relief, just holds himself there, teasing, tormenting. Your pussy clenches around nothing, empty and aching for his cock.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you struggle to regain your composure. Aemond's dark promises hang heavy in the air, making your head spin with desire and indignation. You try to remain logical as he presses your knees practically next to your ears, your most intimate parts completely open for him.

Despite the way your body aches for him, craving his touch, you force yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes blazing with defiance. "I think it's you who should be begging," you retort, voice steady despite the situation.

Through the haze of lust that threatens to consume you, the old anger still simmers, fueling your resistance. You won't let him break you so easily, won't let him reduce you to a mewling, submissive creature with just a few pretty words and a hard cock.

A twisted smile appears on his lips. He shifts his hips, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. The teasing friction makes your hips buck up involuntarily.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking you," he purrs, his voice a dark promise. "Watching that fire in your eyes fade as I drive you to the brink of madness."

Aemond's smile widens, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watches you squirm beneath him. He knows your body's betrayal, the way it craves his touch despite your protests.

He places his hand from your thigh to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a silent reminder of his control.

"Last chance to beg, my lady wife," he growls, his voice a dark rasp. "Beg me to fill this greedy cunt, to make you mine again."

He applies just the slightest pressure, his cockhead nudging insistently at your entrance. Your pussy clenches, eager, aching to be stretched and filled.

"Or shall I just take what's mine?" Aemond's voice is a sinful purr, his eye glinting with dark promise. "Claim this sweet little pussy whether you want it or not?"

The heat of Aemond's cock pressed against your entrance sends jolts of pleasure racing through your veins. Gods, you need him to break you open and claim you as his. But your pride holds firm, refusing to let you beg like a common whore.

You stare up at him, your gaze defiant, even as your body betrays you with each quivering breath. "Don't pretend you don't want this," you bite out, trying to sound unaffected. "You're just torturing yourself."

It's difficult to sound assertive when he has you pinned, your legs pushed back towards your chest, completely at his mercy. Your pussy throbs, aching to be filled, to be stretched around his thick length.

Aemond lets out a dark chuckle, clearly amused by your feeble attempt at defiance. He shifts his hips, grinding his cock against your slick folds, painting your entrance with his precum.

"Torturing myself? Oh, my dear wife, you flatter yourself," he purrs, his voice a sinful caress. "I'm simply enjoying the show. The way your body trembles, the way your pretty little pussy leaks all over the bed, despite your best efforts to resist."

Aemond's lips curve into a wicked smirk, his eye glinting with mischief and dark promise. He rocks his hips, sliding his hard length through your soaked folds, coating himself in your arousal. Each pass of his cock brushes against your swollen clit, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. You can't stop the moan that escapes your lips, your body betraying your desire.

"Fuck, listen to you. So loud, so desperate." Aemond growls, his voice rough with lust.

He pulls back, removing the delicious friction, leaving you empty and aching. You whimper in protest, your hips bucking, twitching, searching for his touch. But he ignores your needy movements, his focus solely on your face, drinking in your frustration.

"I wonder," he muses. "How long will it take to break you? How many times will you cum on my cock before you're begging me to fill you? To breed this fertile little cunt?"

Aemond's words are filthy and vulgar, and they send a shiver down your spine. You hate how much you love it, how much you crave his dirty talk, his rough handling. He owns you, body and soul, and you both know it.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he declares, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I'm going to take you hard and fast, just like a beast in heat. And you're going to take it like a good little wife because that's all you are to me. My property, my plaything."

With that, he lines himself up with your entrance once more. His cockhead nudges at your slick heat, teasing, taunting. "Open your eyes," he commands, his voice a low growl. "Watch as I claim what's mine."

You try to look at him, but your eyes are glossy and unfocused, clouded with the haze of lust. Then, with one hard, brutal thrust, he sheaths himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick length.

Aemond groans as your tight heat envelops him, your slick walls clenching around his throbbing length. He stills for a moment, savouring the feeling of being buried inside you, your body stretched and full of his cock. Cursing himself for not fucking your tight wet heat earlier. For wasting time with his bastard mistress after your marriage.

"Ahhh!" You let out a kittenish scream as he filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to adjust to his girth. It feels as if he is splitting you open, not even moving yet, but the stretch alone is enough to make you go mad.

Your eyes flutter, rolling back in your head as a wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. You feel so full, it's almost too much to bear. Aemond's cock pulsates inside you, hot and hard.

You can feel every ridge, every vein of his thick shaft as it throbs within you. He's so deep, buried to the hilt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

His hips twitch, a reflexive movement, driving his cock deeper still. The sensation is overwhelming and exquisite, and he has to grit his teeth against the urge to pound into you with abandon.

A moan tears from your throat, raw and primal, as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Your fingers scrabble at his back, your nails digging into his skin, holding on for dear life as he impales you on his cock.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Aemond groans, his voice rough with pleasure.

He starts to move, pulling out until just the tip remains inside you, then slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt. He sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with each powerful thrust. The bed creaks beneath you, the frame shaking from the force of his movements.

"Take it," he growls, his voice commanding, demanding. "Take my cock, you filthy little slut. This is what you were madefor, to be used and fucked like a whore."

His filthy words and powerful thrusts make you lose yourself to the pleasure, your mind going blank as he fucks into you with wild abandon. You feel like a rag-doll, legs thrashing next to you as he uses your body for his pleasure, driving into you with a ferocity that borders on violence.

"Look at you, taking my cock like a good little wife," he praises, his voice a dark rumble. "So obedient, so eager to please me."

You let out a pathetic mewl, unable to form any words. Your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and intense pleasure as Aemond's grip on your thighs remains unforgiving, pressing your knees into the mattress.

He abuses your sopping pussy with brutal thrusts, each one driving you closer to the edge. Screams of ecstasy pour from your parted lips as your brows furrow in pleasure. His thick cock stretches you impossibly wide, filling you to the brink as he claims your body with wild disregard.

Aemond smirks down at you, revelling in your wanton moans and the way your body submits to his brutal pace. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, your slick arousal easing his way as he pounds into your tight heat.

"That's it," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "My beautiful little slut wife."

Gods, had your pussy always felt this divine?

Aemond continues to pound into you relentlessly, his hips pistoning back and forth as he fucks into your tight cunt. Each powerful thrust drives the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and moaning like a bitch in heat.

Your body is lost to the sensations, consumed by the feeling of Aemond's thick cock stretching you wide, filling you so completely. You're nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. Your only purpose is to take his cock and milk it for all its worth.

"Fuck, I love this cunt," Aemond growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his release. "Love feeling you squeeze around me, love how wet and ready you are for me."

Aemond's mind races as he fucks into you with abandon, his thoughts consumed by the exquisite sensation of your tight heat gripping his cock. He can't help but marvel at how your body yields to him, how perfectly you fit around him like you were made for his pleasure.

"I can't believe I wasted all those years fucking that Rivers whore when I could have been ruining this sweet cunt every night," Aemond growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust. "Gods, you're so much tighter than her. So much better."

The degrading praise stings, igniting a fire in your gut despite the intense pleasure. "I hope you regret every second of it," you grit out through clenched teeth, your voice strained and shaky from his cock stretching you open. Each brutal thrust sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, making your back arch off the bed. You scream your next words, lost in a daze of lust and anger. "Would've had all of your heirs! Taken your seed into my womb every single night!"

The thought of carrying his children, of being filled with his seed night after night, sends a shiver down your spine. Why did he waste his time with whores when he could've been breeding me, claiming me?

"I was meant to be the mother of your heirs," you hiss, your nails raking down his back. "Should've been bearing your children, ensuring the Targaryen line."

The words are punctuated by gasps and moans, your body betraying you even as your mind rages.

"Regret it," I pant, your thighs shaking. "Regret wasting your seed on common whores when you could've been filling me."

Aemond throws his head back with a roar, your words stoking the flames of his lust. The thought of you swollen with his child, carrying his heirs, drives him wild with desire. He fucks into you even harder, his hips slamming against yours with bruising force.

"You would've been perfect carrying my babies. Dropping their siblings so I could fill your fertile cunt again and again." He snarls, his eye wild with passion.

The image plays out in his mind, a tantalising fantasy that makes his cock throb inside you. You, round and ripe with his child, your belly stretched and full. He, driving into your fucked-out hole, pumping you full of his royal seed, ensuring his line continues.

"I'll make it up to you," Aemond promises, his voice a dark growl. "I'll fuck a dozen babes into you, let your belly swell with my children."

The idea sends a thrill through him, his balls drawing up tight as he imagines it. He'll keep you barefoot and pregnant with his offspring, his cock buried in your pussy every chance he gets.

"You want that, don't you?" Aemond demands, his thrusts growing erratic, his climax approaching. "To be bred like a bitch, to carry my children? To give our daughter sisters and brothers?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, furious at yourself for desiring exactly that. To be round and heavy with his child, constantly full of his seed. But gods, you do want it. You want it so badly it hurts.

"Yes," you whimper, your vision blurring as your cunt clenches erratically around his thick shaft, drawing him in deeper.

You meet his gaze, your eyes wild and pleading. The unshakable, unfriendly wife he once knew is gone, replaced by a desperate, needy whore.

"That's it," he growls against your lips. "My little wife, begging for her husband to fill her up."

A shameful part of you hopes this new side of you will make him see you differently. Make him desire you, want you, maybe even love you. The thought is intoxicating, to be truly wanted by him.

Your cunt spasms around him, gripping his cock like a vice as you imagine it. He is constantly buried inside you every night, pumping you full of his seed, ensuring his heritage while you serve your true purpose.

Aemond's eyes blaze with triumph as he sees the desperate need reflected in your eyes. He knows he's broken you, reduced you to a quivering, wanton mess, begging for his cock and his seed. It's a powerful feeling, knowing he has this control over you, that he can make you crave his touch above all else.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a brutal kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth, claiming you from the inside out. His hips continue their relentless pace, pounding into your tight heat, driving you closer to the edge.

Aemond's cock twitches inside you, his climax building, his balls drawing up tight. He's close, so fucking close to spilling himself inside you, to marking you as his once and for all.

"I'm going to flood this pussy," he promises, his voice a dark, seductive purr. "Paint your insides with my seed, make sure it takes root. You'll be dripping with my cum, and everyone will know who you belong to."

The thought sends a shiver down his spine, his cock pulsing with need. He wants to ruin you, to claim you so thoroughly that you'll never crave another man's touch. He wants to fuck you into submission, to make you his in every way possible.

His filthy words, combined with the brutal, near cervix-pounding thrusts, finally push you over the edge. You throw your head back with a keening cry, your body wracked with violent shivers as you come undone beneath him. Tears stream down your face, your eyes rolling back from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of it all.

Aemond groans as your pussy clenches around him, the rhythmic squeezing of your walls pushing him over the edge. His hips stutter, his thrusts becoming erratic as his climax crashes over him.

"Oh, Gods!" You sob, your voice high and broken.

Your pussy clamps down on his cock like a vice, rippling and fluttering as you ride out the waves of ecstasy crashing through you. At this moment, you are not a princess or a lady, but a wanton slut, put in her place by her husband's cock. And gods help you, but you love it.

"Fuck, yes!" he roars, his cock pulsing and twitching as he spills himself inside you, painting your walls with his hot, thick seed, your pussy clenching down on him like a fist.

Jet after jet of hot cum shoots from his cock, flooding your womb, painting your insides with his seed.

"Take it," he snarls, his hips jerking with each spurt of his release. "Take my cum."

Aemond's mind goes blissfully blank as he empties himself inside you, his whole world narrowing down to the feel of your pussy milking his cock, greedily swallowing every drop of his cum.

You whimper softly as Aemond's hot seed fills you, your insides warm and tingling from his release. You can feel it trickling out around his still-buried cock, the evidence of his claim dripping down.

He rocks against you, grinding his pelvis against yours, ensuring every last drop is pumped deep into your fertile core. The thought of you, swollen with his child, carrying his heir, sends a primal surge of satisfaction through him.

Your mind is blissfully empty, thoughts scattered in the aftermath of such intense pleasure. You gaze up at him with wide, glossy eyes, your lips parted in a breathless pant. The world around you fades away, leaving only him.

Aemond leans down, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He nuzzles your skin, breathing in your scent, the musky aroma of sex and sweat clinging to your bodies.

His softening cock twitches inside you, a residual shudder of pleasure rippling through him at the feeling of your cum-filled pussy clenching around him. He rolls his hips lazily, grinding against you, savouring the sensation of his seed sloshing inside you.

Aemond's lips curl into a satisfied smirk against your neck. He can feel your body, pliant and sated beneath him, still grasping his softening cock as if reluctant to let him go. The knowledge that he's thoroughly conquered you, reduced you to a quivering mess of pleasure, sends a thrill through him.

He pulls back slightly, his single eye raking over your face, drinking in the sight of you - cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with satisfaction.

You're a vision, a goddess laid out before him, and he's drunk at the sight of you.

Aemond's eye roams over your body, taking in every curve and dip, committing the sight to memory. Your breasts, heaving with each breath, nipples pebbled and begging for his touch. The sheen of sweat on your skin, glistening in the candlelight. The way your thighs are splayed open, your pussy still stretched and dripping with his cum.

It's a feast for the senses, and Aemond is a starving man.

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