#Like imagine being stuck in the throne room | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sageryuri · 9 months ago

Text

NEW YOU, JAKE SIM.

pairing jake sim + afab!reader.

genre fluff, angst, smut.

summary all hell breaks loose when you, the heir to the throne, decides to run away to begin a new life. luckily, you experience a surprise encounter with jake sim, which brings upon freeing adventures and sprouts a taboo relationship between a princess, and a poor criminal.

word count 10.7k (unedited).

warnings i’m sorry for the beomgyu slander 😔, jake refers to reader as princess as much as he can really, suicide mentions, family toxicity, NSFW MINORS DNI!!! (fingering fem!receiving, handjob, oral male!receiving, unprotected sex, light choking), death mentions.

an tis here!! took me awhile but i always prevail. ty for all the support <3

Royalty never lived up to the expectations that outsiders had anticipated. None of the money, gowns and experiences would live up to what those people would always have — complete freedom.

They could travel whenever they desired, do what activities they desired, be with who they desired; ultimately being who they wanted to be. You were stuck on the inside of a kingdom, and despite its tremendous size, it could never live up to the feeling of adventuring outside of the castle walls.

You had been unsure what you had done wrong to deserve something so terrible, but you had been enforced into a marriage that you would never agree to. In fact, they were so enthralled by this marriage, that you were not allowed to leave the premises so you couldn't meet anyone else until you had fallen in love.

Though, you don't think anyone could fall in love with Choi Beomgyu. He was idiotic, vain, rude and every other possible negative adjective you could think of. Even those who matched his asininity would barely be able to cope in his presence.

However, you sense you're the only one who doesn't fall for his 'charms' since everyone else seems to fawn over him whenever he appeared. Of course, you had to be the one who would in be betrothed to him in the end.

You had simply had enough.

As it was, you weren't a fan of your life before the marriage had been finalised. You weren't suited to the position of a queen nor did you want to follow that lifestyle. All that you wanted was the opportunity to be free.

What could be any better than making a plan to run away?

This was probably the fifth ball you had attended this month; you weren't sure why they had them so much, because they all had the same step-by-step procedure as if it was some form of experiment.

You would watch as your parents made their way around, greeting the same people, the same way, as if they hadn't seen each other a week ago. It was comedy-worthy how absolutely fake every single person here had been.

Within minutes of being there, you had already made your way over to the buffet table where your only friend, Julia, had been encouraged (practically scolded by your mother) to stand.

Her mother had been your babysitter as a child since it was rare your parents would find the time to actually spend any moments with you. Julia was the same age, so had grew up alongside you. It was interesting how opposite both of your lives had turned out to be despite being brought up by the same person, just with different blood.

"God, this is just as boring as I'd imagine it to be. Look at them all, it's like a food chain. I'm shocked nobody had cracked yet." You stand next to her, avoiding the gaze of everybody else in the room as you usually would.

"You shouldn't speak that way, you never know who is listening in." Julia had always been nervous when it came to your public conversation, considering she'd likely receive more of a punishment then you would, however, she leans into you more, "I would have to agree though. I could not point out a singular person who genuinely looks interested in their conversation."

"I mean, look at that herd of girls over there. They've been squawking with each other all evening, but I definitely saw Emily pointing fingers at Destiny last week." You nod your head towards the group that stood near the entrance, all chatting with one another as if they wouldn't talk behind each other's backs any other time of day.

Your eyes shift along, expecting to find another group of people to roll your eyes at, instead encountering quite a surprise. There's a servant that you don't quite recognise; brown shaggy hair, the same familiar white uniform that appears to be loose fitting, but seems to still look just right.

Surely, you think, you would have remembered someone like him.

"Julia, do you recognise him? I'm not quite sure he's ever been here before." You ask, she looks in your direction with furrowed brows as she takes in the man that you're looking at. She squints her eyes, thinking, then shakes her head.

He hadn't done anything to imply he was up to something suspicious, but you had a strange feeling about him. Feeling entranced by him, you try to think of a normal excuse so that you could speak with him — but your parents get to you first.

"Darling! Where have you been? We have been looking for you everywhere!" She beams at you, rather fabricated considering her eyes seem to be filled with annoyance since you had been staying distant from her the entire ball.

Unfortunately for you, Beomgyu slides into the conversation with his horrifically flirtatious smile that only forms disgust in your mind. He takes your hand, placing a kiss on it; Julia stifles a laugh when you side-eye her.

"It's nice to see you again, my love." He smirks at you, your mother almost clapping her hands in excitement as she watches, "Care to dance?"

Your mind searches for any excuse to refuse his offer, but your mother's fiery gaze barely gives you the option to think. You hate to be like everyone else in the room, but you give your best smile and place your hand into his.

Considering this would be your last time making your mother happy, you may as well allow it to happen.

The moment you reach your bedroom, you fall into your bed with a long groan. To be expected, the dress and makeup had taken at least an hour to remove, reaching almost one AM by the time you were in your chamber.

Minutes later, Julia wanders in her room for her 'nightly duties' — gossiping with you after a exhausting day. She conforms to you, jumping on your bed as you had.

"You look worn out- well, I'm not surprised after that." When she says that, you know she's referring to the excruciating dance that you had the dishonour (to yourself) of taking part in, "How was that enchanting dance?"

"I'm not sure if he was nervous or it was just natural, but his hands were incredibly sweaty! Normally I wouldn't judge, but surely you wouldn't hold someone's hand for that long when they're practically slipping off." Julia bursts into laughter at your response, tears spilling from her eyes.

You're going to miss Julia. In honesty, she was the only person that could keep you here and you wish you could take her with you. It would be too dangerous and risky, so you would have to give her the best.

"Julia... I was hoping you could help me with something." You take your bottom lip between your teeth and she looks at you expectingly, eyes boring into yours, "I'm really not sure how you will take this thought of mine, but it's truly what I think will be the best. I want to leave, and go far way."

Her mouth opens, no words to be spoken but it is clear she has many things to say.

"I know I should have mentioned my feelings to you earlier, and I am sorry for my selfishness. This is something I need, and I want your help, if you could." You look at her with hope, praying that there was something that she could do for you.

She sighs.

"I know a way that you'll be able to leave, quite easily." She states, she watches as your eyes light up and you become more absorbed in the conversation, "I know that they don't allow you to go into the basement of the castle. It's because there's a passageway through and door that leads through to the outside. It hasn't been used in many years."

In your mind, you recall every time someone had tensed up or began stuttering over their words whenever you got too close to that basement door. It was as if they knew that you had been planning to do something drastic, such as running away.

"How on earth would I get there if they're so cautious about me going in? It doesn't sound too wise." You sit up from your previous position, walking over to your wooden desk to take a seat. Allowing your head to fall into your hands, you question whether this was possible.

"Well... At particular times of the day, the guards leave their stations. Usually during your late dinners, actually- and around 4AM in the morning when they begin preparing for you to awake. If you can get out of the diner tonight, I'll show you." She whispers under her breath at you, just in case anyone had been deciding to listen in at the wrong time.

You have never hugged someone as tightly as you had with Julia. Within minutes, you had gone from having zero idea of how to get to your own paradise to having a knight in shining armour that so happened to be your best friend.

The dinners with your family were the worst part of being a royal; you had to spend an extended amount of time with them. Despite being your blood, they never felt like they were. Realistically, they likely didn't care for you that much, you were created for an alliance.

Even if it hadn't been explicitly stated, there was no doubts that it was the reality.

If you had to admit anything, the dining hall was gorgeous. The walls are as tall as can be, painted portraits and landscapes scattering every wall. Candles are sporadically placed around the room, as well as in the large hanging chandelier.

However, the gigantic table in the centre just made the dinners much more awkward.

"I see you talked with Prince Beomgyu at the last ball. I'm glad the two of you are getting along well." Your father speaks up for the first time during your dinner and to no surprise, it's involving mentions of your 'future' marriage partner.

"Barely..." You mumble under your breath, just loud enough for them to be able to hear, but low enough that they were unable to tell it was intentional.

You needed a reason to be able to leave, since they would never allow you to go to your room when you wanted to. On many occasions, you remember how whenever you argued or became upset, they would just let you to leave so they would't have to acknowledge the needed confrontation.

"Why can't you just be kind to him? He has done nothing but treat you right and you have hardly said one word to him." Your mother places her cutlery down and glares at you, as if you were someone she had become enemies with.

Just one more day.

"Me and all the other women he has been trying to court. I'm going to bed, I'm not hungry anymore." You retort back, standing up and storming your way out of the room. As expected, they don't follow you or say a word.

Quickly, you walk back to your room to see Julia already waiting inside for you, "We have to move fast. We have enough time but I'd rather we get in and out so we don't get caught, if all goes well, you could get out tonight." Julia grins with mixed emotion; ecstatic you're finally getting what you deserve, upset that she'll likely never see you again.

"I don't think I could ever thank you enough, I love you, Julia." You want to give her another tight hug, but there is not enough time in the day. Instead, she pulls you along to take you to the sacred basement floor.

Your heart thumps harshly in your chest as you stand in front of the door. Julia pushes it open slowly to avoid loud creaks and squeaks.

As slow as you can, you walk down the stone stairs that lead down to the basement. It is barely lit, just bright enough to be able to see where you are placing your feet on the stairs. Eventually, you reach a dingy room that is filled with miscellaneous items.

"I... don't see a door anywhere." Your eyebrows furrow as you walk around the room, squinting through the darkness in order to try and find this supposed door. In fact, you don't think you can see any other way out of the basement apart from the door you had entered from.

"It's hidden for a reason, look here." Julia remarks, you turn around to look at where she is standing. She taps her foot onto a particular area of the floor, which appears to sound more hollow than the rest of it.

The floor isn't easy to see, so you get onto your knees in order to touch around, feeling how the stone flooring feels like wood instead. With a large grin, you stand up and hug Julia one last time.

"You go back to your room now so that they don't see you down here, I can think of an excuse for myself if anything happens. It's already unlocked and goes straight out." She pulls back, her hand resting on your cheek, "If this is the last I see of you, I appreciate everything you've done for me. You're my closest friend and I hope I'll get to see you again in the future, much happier than you are now."

When your eyes begin to fill with water, you make your way back up the stairs and towards your bedroom and attempting to look as innocent as possible. Patiently, you watch the hours on the clock go by.

You begin to feel like the moment isn't real; not when it reaches 3AM and your hands are shaking against your door handle. The large door feels more intimidating than usual, as if it had started to grow along with your draining anxiety throughout the waiting process.

Hastily, you move through the many corridors without giving another thought because you may just second guess yourself and decide this was not your smartest idea.

As Julia has reassured you, you didn't bump into any of the royal guards — you realise they aren't the greatest, since they appeared to be nowhere in sight. You likely could have done this months ago when you began considering the idea.

This is the quietest you had ever heard the expanse of the castle to be, if it had been this way all the time, you would have liked it more. Instead, you were stuck with the family talking your ears off every second like nails on a chalk board.

You reach the basement, feeling around on the floor until you find the door again. A proud smile appears on your face when you feel the handle, though as you're pulling it up, someone or something on the other side seems to be opening it too.

"Huh?" You gasp out, almost flinging backwards when the door opens at lightening speed, revealing a very familiar face, "It's you!"

You remember him perfectly, his face was hard to forget. Opposed to his clean appearance when you had seen him at the ball, he looks muckier and he definitely wasn't wearing royal attire this time.

"Who the hell are you?" His expression displays confusion and his voice is almost aggressive, as if he isn't the one coming in from the outside; despite the tone, the thick accent that is diversely different from your own sticks out to you clearly. No one in the area sounded as he did.

"Me? Why on earth are you sneaking into the castle? Do you have a death wish?" You whisper-shout at him, mirroring his distress towards you. He doesn't respond, looking just as baffled as you are, "How long have you been doing this for? God, the security here is dreadful."

Suspecting you had been too loud because the man before you interrupted the original plan, as you had likely done to him, the sound of feet thundering above you caused your stomach to drop and your body to freeze up.

"Shit, shit, shit!" His eyes widen and he examines the room, biting his bottom lip when he can't think of anything. He sighs and puts his attention back on you, "Whatever you're doing, make your decision now or you're dead meat. You're lucky I'm in a good mood today."

He holds his hand out towards you, urging you to take it so he can help you down into the pathways below you. After a mere thought of going back and the sound of banging on the basement door, you close your eyes and take his hand into yours.

The path becomes a blur the faster he pulls you through, but you feel a weight lift of your shoulders the further you are away from that door. Finally, you feel the cold breeze of the outside, a simple experience that you had not truly felt in many months.

You don't think you could explain to another human how incredible you felt in the moment, and with the adrenaline pumping through your body you couldn't feel any better.

Eventually, your running comes to a halt when you're dragged into a run-down cottage hidden behind moss, grown out leaves and grass. It's nothing, minuscule, compared to your old home, but you like it.

Funnily, you had almost forgotten about the man who had saved your skin, now panting with his hands on his knees. He stands straight after a minute or so, looking you in your eyes that are as wide as a deers in front of headlights.

"This, uh, this isn't where I live. I just come here when I finish up my business, which you impolitely interrupted. You want to tell me what you were doing? You seemed pretty desperate to get out of there." He walks over to a desk next to the bed, which was on the verge of falling apart, and pulls out a handkerchief from the open draw.

Even though his own face was covered in dirt and sweat, he makes his way over to you and dabs away at whatever had made its way onto yours. Then, he shoves it into his back pocket before stepping back from you.

"I'd much rather know your name first. You know, you don't make yourself appear very trustworthy being so sneaky." You fold your arms over each other, giving him an accusatory look. In return, he just laughs and you look away so you wouldn't feel hypnotised by his smile.

"You're very feisty. I'm Jake, Jaeyun, whatever you want to call me. Now, you." Now knowing his name, you think that it fits him flawlessly; you wouldn't attach any other name to his pretty face. There is a chair next to the desk which he pulls out to take a seat on, pointing his hand out towards the bed.

You noticed he had a habit of using gestures instead of his words.

"Well Jake, it's nice to meet you." The bed isn't comfy at all, but you know you should appreciate there is even one in front of you in the first place, "I needed to leave, my parents didn't really put me in the best situation, so I took it upon myself to get out of it before it was too late."

"Well, shit. You're the princess aren't you? You're worth a lot of money, you know." When you don't laugh, eyes somehow becoming even wider than they were previously, he shakes his head while he stands to place a hand on your shoulder, "I'm joking, don't look so terrified. The bed won't be up to your standards, but you're free to sleep and we'll figure something out for you in the morning."

"What about you? Mustn't you sleep?" You question, you still feel uncomfortable sitting on the bed, not wanting to attempt to sleep while he is wide awake near you. Not that you didn't trust him, but it only made you feel more awkward.

"I'll be okay. Don't worry, I'm not going to chuck you out while you're sleeping, you can breathe. And don't be so tense, you can trust me, princess." He grins at you, the light from the lantern made him look ethereal, though your heart still beats fast with conflicted feelings.

The conversation ends there, he turns the chair around the face the desk which was opposite the bed. You aren't sure what he is doing, but you feel better with him looking away. Hesitatingly, you find yourself falling into a light sleep, being awoken by the slightest noise.

You don't sleep very well that night.

The pain in your back is hard to ignore, you aren't so used to having such a springy and old bed. For a second, you expect to see Julia opening up the door to your chamber, but you are instead met with Jake walking back through the rusty door.

"Good morning, princess. I brought you some new clothing back, I imagine that cute nightgown of yours isn't so comfortable for the day." Jake holds up some clothing, what your parents would refer to as 'peasant attire'. You can feel your cheeks heat up since you had forgotten you had left wearing your nightgown in a rush.

"Thank you... for the- for the fresh clothing. I appreciate your kindness." Happily, you take the clothing from his hands. They're warm, as if they had been laid in front of a fireplace for a few hours. The new feeling of warmth after having to be used to the cruel, cold cottage brings you joy.

"No worries, sweetheart. I have a proposition for you when you're ready." You reply silently to him, with a nod of the head, then leave to go into what appears to be a bathroom.

In the mirror, you see what the last day had done to you. There's only specs of dirt left on your face, you imagine it had been significantly worse before Jake had cleared it away. Bags under your eyes show clear, causing you to let out a long sigh.

Having to get used to no longer being pampered and cared for anymore was looking harder than you anticipated. You had barely considered the cons of your actions. After a few moments of processing the past day and making yourself appear more presentable, you leave the bathroom to see Jake waiting for you, reading a book.

"I can take you somewhere that's alot safer than here. It's probably not what you want at the moment, but it's probably the best you're going to get for now." Jake places the book down and diverts his eyes to you. His eyes rack over your body, not in a sexual manner, just to examine the fitting of the clothing.

"Could you tell me what you meant by 'business'? I haven't associated myself with those people for a long time, so I won't get you into any trouble. I don't mean to intrude, but you practically know my story." Anxiously, your hands clasp in front of you and you can't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes yet.

"Well, I guess I'll trust you. Me and my family aren't very well off, if you couldn't tell. It's not east to get jobs, and even the boys who do have jobs barely get a penny." He sighs, you begin to feel bad for asking, "Surprisingly, assigned waiters and waitresses get paid enough for us to afford what we need and I'm nimble enough to get in there and fake the job. I wouldn't have done it without Julia."

Your brain short-circuits and your head shoots up to look at Jake. Confused, he looks between you and the wall at the sudden change in body language, waiting for you to speak.

"Julia? You know Julia? We were close and she never mentioned you, she even acted like she didn't know you when I asked. Did she not trust me?" Your eyebrows furrow as you start to question yourself, and everything that you had experienced.

Jake only grins at your concern and shakes his head in disagreement.

"She was always so cautious, I did tell her not to bring this up, I'm sure she was worried of others listening. She helped me- alot. Wouldn't have done any of this without her.” He reassures you, the two of you decide to end this particular conversation there.

Thinking back to his proposition, you collect whatever you have left of your belongings and place them into a straw bag which had been placed next to the bed. Jake nods towards the door with a barely noticeable smile.

The door opens and you wince at the sun burning into your eyes. It radiates through your skin when you take your first step outside. Your hands grip harder onto the bag as you follow behind Jake to your next stop in your journey.

Neither of you take it upon yourself to start conversations. You don't have a problem with him and he has no issues with you, but it's obvious that there was a silent agreement that you would try and help each other and part ways.

At least that was how you had taken the last few hours. This was a new, blooming path for you, and you couldn't allow anyone to hold you back. No matter how much you may start to enjoy Jake's company, he had a family he cared deeply for and you had places you wanted to go.

After an hour or two, stopping off for the occasional rest, you encounter another cottage. Larger than the last, and taken care of. Flowers grow all around in bright colours, the brick the cottage is made out of being painted a gorgeous beige and darkened smoke peering out of the chimney.

After being at awe at how beautiful you found the cottage to be, you then see two younger boys tending to a garden filled with various fruits and vegetables. They look up, confused by your presence, but their faces light up once they see Jake.

"Jae, You're back! We were starting to get a little worried about you." They both come running towards Jake, diving into his arms as he hugs them closely to his body. You can't help but smile at the love for each other that beams from them — you almost begin to feel jealous.

"I have a come back rate of 100%, I'm invincible at this point, Won." Jake places light kisses on the top of their heads, and then their attention lands on the elephant in the room, you, "Yeah, uh, this is a recent friend of mine."

Once you give your name to his brothers, they seem to put the puzzle pieces together. The taller ones jaw drops while the other's eyebrows fall into anger.

"Sim Jaeyun what the hell have you gotten yourself into! Heeseung is going to be furious!"

Heeseung was in fact furious.

The eldest had spent about twenty minutes stalking around the cottage's main room rebuking Jake for doing something so impulsive, like allowing the runaway princess to take refuge in their home without speaking with the rest of them.

You almost stood up to leave them alone due to feeling rude and awkward, but Jake and his brother’s Jongseong and Riki were adamant on letting you stay since you had nowhere else to go. Somehow, they convinced the rest of them.

Over the month you had been living with the seven boys, something in your mind had switched. In such a short amount of time, all of them had become prominent figures in your life and it felt like you had been there forever.

One thing that you couldn't push through was the different between how you felt about Jake compared to the rest of his brothers. The touches between you both always lingered longer and you would always notice the way he would watch you while Jungwon taught you how to correctly tend to the garden.

It was a quiet day, most of the boys were tired and taking the hours to rest, most of them sleeping apart from Sunoo who silently read a book at the dining table, and you who had been sowing away to a shirt Sunghoon had accidentally ripped.

The constant silence, apart from the sound of pages turning and the fire crackling, was broken by a loud yawn as Jake opens his bedroom door. Sunoo doesn't spare him a glance, but you look up from your needle and thread to give the man a sweet smile.

"Good morning- well, afternoon, princess." He beams, making his way over to you. Both of his hands lay on either side of your shoulders and it takes everything in you not to tense up at the sudden touch.

"What did I say about calling me princess, Jaeyun?" You murmur, still trying to concentrate on the shirt in front of you. Jake's head is now placed upon yours, and you wonder if he's trying to or is blissfully unaware that he's flustering you to the highest degree.

"That I should stop calling you princess- but it suits you so well! And I think you should keep calling me Jaeyun, I like it." He replies, you roll your eyes and give up with your task. Jake moves away from you, so you turn around in your chair to face him.

"I'll think about it." You smirk at him, he opts to sit next to you and lay his head onto the table as if he had still been tired, "I thought you would be sleeping all day."

"Well... I was wondering if you wanted to take a ride in our sailing boat. I could teach you how to use it. It's too warm for me to sleep." He responds, his head being hidden in his arms consequently leaves you unable to see the pink shade that spreads across his cheeks.

"That would be nice, I've always wanted go ride in a boat- my parents never let me do anything." Finishing up, you finally stand from the chair to stretch your legs, cracking your fingers due to the ache in them.

"You can do anything that you want now. They'll always be looking for you, but we can get you far enough that they won't be able to find you." Jake purses his lips, looking away from you before continuing, "Though you’re always welcome to stay here."

"You know that I can't." You hadn't meant to sound so cold.

Jake becomes more and more despondent every time you reject his offer of staying with him. The others boys had grown fond of you, just as he had, you were safe and free from the sickening hold of your biological family.

Alas, you wanted excitement over tranquility.

The lake behind the house could have been the most perfect sight. Somehow, the water had stayed as clean as it could be, you could see the bottom of the shallow areas. What you liked the most was the natural decoration of trees and flowers, moments like this could convince you to stay.

As expected, the boat is still attached to the pier. It was rare they ever used it, often just fishing from the pier itself, but the warm day warranted a little change.

You and Jake walk side by side in a comfortable silence, something the two of you had grew to enjoy. Over years, you had gotten used to constantly being surrounded by noise that the serenity of the cottage on rest days felt strange — you never got rest days.

At first, any kind of silence was uncomfortable, though you hardly realised it had become pleasant.

Jake gets into the boat, holding out his hand to carefully help you in. He leans over to reach for the oars, and you take a seat across from him, "How am I supposed to teach you from all the way over there?"

"Where else am I supposed to go?" You raise an eyebrow at him. He shows off a flirtatious smirk and pats the little area that is left in front of him.

Jake did a brilliant job at making you frantic; you'd never experienced a relationship such as this, apart from Beomgyu, who you would rather never hear of again.

Slowly, you take your seat in front of him, back pressed snugly against his warm chest.

"Hold tight, I'll hold my hands over yours and show you how to do it properly." The two of you seem to be holding hands a lot lately. He tries to hold your hands as daintily as he could to ensure his tight grip wouldn't hurt you, and begins to row, "You're a natural."

"I guess I'm simply just good at everything." You joke, and you finally let the stiffness in your body go, moving with your thoughts to distract yourself, "I wonder how Julia is doing... I feel awful for having to leave her."

You had worried for Julia every single day. There had been no news, at least not that the boys had heard of yet; by now, you expected a large-scale search where guards and soldier would be loitering around every corner, but not one had been seen in the area. You wondered if she was safe.

"You had no choice. I'll always wish her the best, she really did everything she could for me, for us. We had a real hard time last year." He replies, staring off into the distance as he continues to row the boat, you're barely putting in any effort.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened? Whenever it seems to come in to conversation, everyone gets quiet and moves on." You ask, almost hesitantly.

Parts of you disliked that you allowed your curiosity to get the best of you. It wasn't your business, and a topic they had been evading conversation about since it happened. Though you cared about them, and want to take care of them.

"We were really struggling, the worst it had been. It was like everything that could go wrong, was going wrong. We had no food and we were freezing. There was a lot of pressure on all of us, and I guess Hoon just couldn't take it anymore. I had to jump in to pull him out of the water and I can still remember how hard he had sobbed in my arms."

"Oh Jake, I'm so sorry. None of you deserved that kind of life, you're all so loving and kind. I'm glad you all had each other, I can't imagine what you've been through." At some point, you had moved to turn your body around to face him. You had never been so close to his face before, yet it felt so familiar.

"Without Julia I'm not sure we'd still be here, so fucking up the system was our best choice. I guess I would never have met you either if I never went through with it- and I sure would have regretted that." He grins, and you can't help but return it.

"All of you are so strong, you're amazing, Jaeyun." You remind him, and hope this will be something he and his brothers will always know.

There are continuous shifts in the air whenever you are left together, as if every moment brings you so much closer, but formed a theory that there wasn't a moment where you hadn't known Jake Sim, like he was everlasting in your life.

It’s cut short when Riki comes running down from the cottage, almost tripping over his own feet. His face isn't entirely visible from the length away, but your stomach drops as you sense something is wrong. Just minutes ago, he was fast asleep.

As fast as possible, Jake rows himself back to the pier where Riki is stood, taking deep breaths. He appears bothered by something, and his concerned attention seems to be on you the whole time.

"You guys- you're going to end up in big trouble. Jesus, some guards just turned up at the door, pretty much just as you reached the pier. They didn't recognise you from so far away, we told them that you were going far out and couldn't come back, but they said they'll come back later to talk to you."

You are so, so scared; you can feel your body begin to shake as what you had been anticipating finally happens. It had been so long, that you had started to consider the idea that they swiftly moved on from you. Unfortunately, it could never be so easy.

It didn't take long for you to start sobbing, the original feeling of shock and fear subsiding into anxiety and sadness. Jay has you wrapped in his arms as you shake, everyone has seated themselves down apart from Jake, who aggressively wanders around the room.

"Jaeyun, stand still. You're just making her feel even worse shuffling around the room like that." Heeseung glares at his younger brother, standing up from his seat to walk towards him.

"Yeah? Well what else am I supposed to do? I don't know what the fuck to do!" Jake shouts, not so loud, yet it still makes you jump enough that Jay holds you ever so slightly tighter. Looking over, Jake and Heeseung are standing face to face.

"Stop shouting at me and get your goddamn act together, she needs us, she needs you. You want to help her? Then we need to talk and figure out where we go from here." Heeseung snarls at Jake, who lets out a frustrated groan and nods his head.

This was the first time you had seen them truly upset with each other. It's due to one of your own problems too, which makes you feel entirely responsible even if you hadn't intended to.

"I have to leave."

All of their eyes divert to your direction, even Jay draws back from you a little. They all share the same expression, one you can't quite read in detail, but they are shocked by your statement.

"What? No, no, where on earth would you go? We can figure this out. Don't go until you're ready to move on." Sunghoon states, his thick eyebrows beginning to furrow in concern.

"If I'm not gone by the time they get back, I'm not sure what they would do to you all if they knew I was here. I could never put you all at risky like that- and I would dread to think about the things they would do to me too."

"Are you sure?" Jungwon mumbles begrudgingly, frowning at the thought of you leaving them all. He had grown closest to you, other than Jake, and even though he would never admit it to anyone, he had grown rather attached to your presence.

Simply, you nod your head and hold your bottom lip between your teeth to attempt to avoid any more tears. Sunghoon was right to make a comment on you being ready, because you were far from so.

"I'll come with you." Jake's voice causes you to look at him again, eyes wide and lost. He appears so sure of himself, "I'll get you somewhere far enough that's safe. I can't stay with you, but I can offer as much help as possible. None of us want you out alone."

After a serious talk, heartbreaking goodbyes and reassurance that you will always have a place to be, you and Jake are on your way. He reminds you of another cottage not so long away that the two of you can stop at for the night, similarly to when you had first met.

Jake had been carrying a leather, worn-down rucksack that was filled with miscellaneous items that would keep you going and had been profusely refusing your offers to carry it for a little to give him a break.

There's a constant guilt riding through your body with every moment, and Jake is able to tell, he seems to know you well enough now. He spends his time telling you stories of his youth, his current years, his brothers; beautiful moments to tell you that this is momentary, and all will be well soon enough.

An hour or two walk leads you to the cottage, and it's far from pretty. In fact, you think some of the roof is missing and some of the windows are smashed up. Not the ideal place to stay, but it'll work for now.

"Here, take this, you're freezing." He offers up his jacket, more so forcing it into your hands. He's cold too, but he'd rather be the one to get sick.

"Why are there so many abandoned cottages around here? It's such a waste..." You question after sitting down at a wooden desk chair, your legs recovering from the long walk.

"People like to move around, they'll just up and leave, go to the next town or whatever it is they're doing. Their old homes just get forgotten about, I guess." He shrugs, he's used to them being around, while you were thinking about how lovely it would be to renovate.

It wasn't difficult for you to fall asleep, so exhausted that all it took was closing your eyes.

You never had nightmares; not until tonight.

Everyone you had come to know was there, complaining about how you were an awful friend, daughter, partner, princess. Hearing sharp words from your family was something you had become desensitised to, but Julia and Jake broke your heart.

Jake sees you shuffling in your sleep, making small noises, a concerned expression across your face. He pouts from where he sits, gathering that you were having a bad dream.

Quietly, he makes his way over to you and sits on the opposite side of the bed. He finds himself studying your sleepy face, you were always bright and ignoring a few minor occasions, he never really saw you upset.

He leans forward and pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, he ponders whether he should wake you up, but you're faster than him, shooting up as you frantically look around the room.

"Hey, woah! Breathe princess, you're okay, you're safe." Jake speaks so softly that the tension in your body dissipates immediately, your hand wraps around his for additional comfort and you look him in the eyes.

It feels right.

Jake's free hand moved upwards to rest on your cheek, you nuzzle into his hand happily and close your eyes. A few seconds pass, you decide to look back at Jake, who you hope is feeling just as you do.

When his thumb faintly rubs against your bottom lip, it was as if the subconscious block that had been holding you back snaps. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but it didn't matter.

His lips slot perfectly on yours; just like his hands, his arms, every fibre of his being. You feel slightly hesitant due to your lack in experience, though the softness of how Jake holds you tells you everything will be just fine.

He caresses your waist line as his tongue slips into your mouth, and you're sure you could kiss Jake's lips forever. In comparison, you’re gripping onto Jake for dear life, taking an awfully deep breath when you part from each other.

“I’m always going to keep you safe, you and the boys, you are my life. I’ll protect you even if it kills me.” He whispers against your lips, and a stray tear slips down your cheek as you both stay with each other, forgetting about your problems just for a moment.

You hadn't been to another town before since you were a small child, being isolated away from others for such a long time. It's so lively and full of happy people, it makes you think about how quiet it had been at your old home as everyone in town had generally kept to themselves.

"Anywhere you want to go?" Jake asks, his hand still gripping yours tightly. Neither of you decided to mention the previous night, but you both have refused to let go of each other since you fell asleep, and Jake was feeling nauseated at the thought of you getting lost.

You had to admit to being anxious; there was always the chance that someone would recognise you even if they hadn't seen you since you were much younger. Not everyone was a good person, you would end up back at square one.

"I think I'd like to go to the lake, the old lady in the bakery really sold it for me." You hold up the bag that was filled with bread and sweet treats (you had to convince Jake not to steal any of them because the lady was so kind and you had enough money), "It's getting a little late, so I wouldn't mind going to the lake for a little while and then going to the inn."

The sky is filled with vibrant variations of pinks, oranges and yellows as the sun begins to set. It shines beautifully onto the lake as you and Jake walk along the path, content as you both munch on bread and laugh with each other.

Time passes so fast that you don't even realise how long you have been wandering around for, the dark skies soon tiring you out. Your eyes feel heavy, so you suggest going to the inn.

"You are a lovely couple, how long have you been together?" The woman behind the counter asks, grinning at your closeness as she takes the money from Jake's hands.

"Our whole lives, miss." Jake says, as if it has been a normal everyday saying. Of course, you become embarrassed and hide behind Jake's arm and the elderly woman coos at you as she passes along the key.

The air feels strange once you and Jake are laid in the bed together. Even though you are so far apart from one another, it's like the heat of his body is still reflecting onto yours. Whatever you feel in your body, you know it is unfamiliar to you.

You bite your bottom lip in hesitance. Taking a deep breath, you turn around to face Jake. To your surprise, he had already been facing you with his eyes open, watching you.

"You can't sleep either?" He asks, his voice becoming raspy from the lack of speaking. Even though the room is so dark, he manages to look just as gorgeous as usual, even with such tired eyes.

"I'm thinking." You reply quietly, Jake nudges further so that he is closer to you.

"What are you thinking about?" He takes his hand, moving a stray hair behind your ear, hand now resting softly on your cheek.

When you don't answer, Jake's hand is quick to travel to the back of your head as he slams his own lips against yours. Your own hand makes its way into his hair, tugging lightly as your body shakes in anticipation when he lets out a low groan against you.

You clamber onto his lap, wanting to feel as close to him as was humanly possible. The emotions and hormones running through your body became so overwhelming that you could only let out whiny whimpers on his mouth.

His hand moves between your thighs, playing with your little clit in excitement, allowing you to grind against his veiny hand. He messes with you through your underwear, soon moving it to the side with a long groan. A long string of saliva links the two of you, Jake's jaw dropping as he looks at you.

"Didn't take you long to get so wet, you wanted me for that long, honey?" His voice drops octaves, his irises filled with a concept you could hardly comprehend; but you have never felt so much pleasure, "Can't believe I waited this long to see how pretty you look withering on top of me."

"Jake!" You grip at his arm, nails practically digging into his skin, hips moving faster and faster as you feel the intense butterflies in your stomach. Tears brim your eyes as you experience the new feeling, almost bursting as your slick covers Jake's hand.

He can barely take in the situation himself. He's hardly done anything and your eyes are already welling up and he just knows drool is going to start dripping from your swollen lips soon enough. Jake pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean.

"Off, too hot. Yours too." You start to pull at Jake's shirt, he rips your nightgown from your body, leaving you with the thin material of your underwear. Before you could think, his arm wrapped around your back to pull you into him, taking your left breast into his mouth.

His other hand reaches to wrap perfectly around the other, harshly nipping to get a squeal out of you, he slots himself comfortably between your legs, pressing you against his hardening cock. The man underneath you bites his lip hard, lifting up his hips into your core.

"Fuck, fuck baby, just like that." His eyes and hands are still concentrated on your chest, completely hypnotised by their feel and appearance. Jake is absolutely enamoured, and you're already cock-drunk before he's even gotten inside of you.

But it still just isn't enough.

When you lift yourself up and reach down to palm his length through his pants, Jake is sure his eyes roll to the back of his head. He could feel

the fire emits from you, from inside you, from every touch you gifted to his body. You're so desperate, and he's ready to give you anything you desire.

"Can I..." You whimper out, reaching over to the low waistband of his pants. Looking at your face, Jake doesn't want to rip his eyes away. Your own eyes are blown out and your pretty skin is begin to sweat, your hair managing to fall flawlessly in place like you weren't jumping his bones.

"You can do anything you want to me, baby. I'm all yours." He whispers into your ear, nibbling slightly at the lobe. Swiftly, you finally pull at his pants and he lifts up so that you can remove them completely.

It stands tall, wet and red, you can't help but wrap your hands around it. However, not wanting to make a mistake, you give him your best doe eyes to ask for help.

"It's okay, princess. Just move your hand up and down, just like that- fuck." You move your hand up and down slowly, keeping eye contact with Jake, whose eyes are beginning to close from the building pleasure, "Such a good girl f’me.”

Suddenly, you're sliding yourself down his body, your face against his chest as your back arches deliciously. Your tongue lands directly on the slit of his tip, Jake moans loudly and grips onto your hair.

He tried his best not to buck his hips upwards, though he gets even more turned on at your inherent skill to take him in your mouth with ease, the tiny tears in your eyes only make him even more feral.

Your smaller hands are moving nicely on his cock along with your gummy mouth and just the sight of you has him on the edge; a lethal combination. Not wanting to let go just yet, he gently lifts you from him with a dazed smile at your sudden concerned face.

"It's okay, baby- you're doing so, so well for me. Just want us to be able to cum at the same time, hm?" He's quick to model you into the position he wants, you on your back facing him, legs over his shoulders so he can see your fucked out, cute face, “Tell me when you want me to move, okay?”

Then, he pushes himself into you.

You expected it to sting at first, your nails digging and scratching against Jake who just takes it. He waits, albeit the ache he feels in his stomach, until you give him the green light to start moving.

"Go, please." You squeak out, and he does as his lady requests. Still hurting ever so slightly, but with every move comes a larger wave of pleasure. He's almost sure he'll have to slap a hand over your mouth or kiss you so you don't get kicked out, "Oh my god!"

"So fucking tight. My pretty girl, all this for me." Jake stutters out against your neck, sucking at it while your hand rummage around his body, his hair, dragging your nails against his back as he ravages you.

Embarrassment fills you as Jake examines your face and body below him. You try to turn your head, but he immediately raises his hand to grab you by the chin and force you to look back, then his hand makes its way right around your throat in a light choke, "Look at me, honey."

It’s such an intimate moment, both of you finally together as one, only seeing each other and nothing else in the world. He’s holding your cheek while his other hand wraps around your throat and you’re all other the place.

You reach your peak, convulsing so hard and desperate. Jake’s eyebrows furrow harder, hips faltering as he climaxes too, you feel the spurts fill you to the brim, close to bringing another orgasm out of you.

Ears ringing, he lies on top of you though trying his best not to put all of his weight down on your current fragile body. He strokes the top of your head, and you ask him to stay inside of you until you fall asleep.

The alarm of the bright sun shining through the sheer white curtains has you waking up as soon as it hits your skin. You grab the sheets and hike them up your body, still naked after immediately passing out last night. However, it seems like Jake had cleaned you up before you awoke, no longer covered in sweat and cum.

Eyes closing again, you turn your body around and feel onto the other side of the bed for your lover, but only gripping onto empty sheets. You furrow your eyebrows and pout your lips, sitting up and looking around the room.

There is light sparkling from the gap under the bathroom door, you make the assumption he mist be in there, "Jaeyun? Are you in the bathroom?"

After a second or two, the door opens and there stands a half naked Jake, his lean torso and shoulders on full display for you. He grins as his eyes scan down your bare body, spending significantly more time on your tits.

"Now what a lovely sight this is first thing in the morning." He laughs, pressing soft kisses along the dark splotches on your neck. You roll your eyes with a smile, pushing him away a little so you could pick up your day clothing to get changed, "You could just stay like that for a few more hours, I'm not complaining."

"You're suddenly so perverted, have you been hiding this from me the whole time?" You ask jokingly, leaning against the doorway in all your naked glory. He looks at you like he has never seen anything as perfect, how he just can’t look away from you; the glint in them somehow tells you that it isn’t just lust in his eyes.

He doesn’t answer, shaking his head with a bite of his lip. Closing the bathroom door, you look at yourself in the mirror while you change, noticing the new glow in your skin — you’re sure there is a myriad of reasons why.

There’s a knock on the door to the room. strange, you think, but you imagine it may be someone complaining about the loud noises and squeaks throughout the night, so you finish putting your shirt on.

As your hand lands on the handle, Jake shouts.

“Get your fucking hands off me! She isn’t in here you, assholes! Who the fuck do you think you are?!” He’s angry at whoever was at the door, the mention of a she makes you shake and back away from the door.

You search for a window, anywhere that could get you out — but the thought of leaving Jake out there broke your heart and you would rather get hurt helping him than leaving all alone.

Before you can even come down to a decision between your two options, the bathroom door bursts open, wooden panels and metal flying around the room. You could recognise the clanky soldier attire of your family anywhere, them staring you down with violent glares.

Having nowhere to go, Jake nowhere in sight, your only option is to follow their instructions.

Standing before your parents, hands handcuffed behind your back, may have been the strangest occurrence you had the glory of experiencing in your life. Their angry faces dawned on you that you had royally fucked up and should have thought about being more sneaky instead of trying to live out your romance dreams.

"You are a disgrace to this family." Your mother spits at you, staring right into your eyes with pure disgust, no remorse for what she had done to you your whole life.

"I'm the disgrace? You tried to force your only daughter into a whole marriage with a man she couldn't stand to be around. You never cared about me, I'm only here to carry on your shitty legacy." You watch as your father's lips press into a thin line at your words, his hands rub at the bridge of his nose.

"You're completely delusional. The marriage will go on and that awful man you had stuck yourself to will be hanged for his crimes." His words are like poison venom, your knees bucking in shock.

Jake would be hanged because you had feelings for him, those were the crimes in your family's mind; their biggest fear as they locked you into a marriage destined to be because it was uncontaminated by a non-royal.

"What- no, no, no! Please, please let him go. I'll marry Beomgyu, I'll do anything, just please don't hurt him. He has a family, he did nothing wrong." You beg hard, almost wanting to drop to your knees with praying hands so they would listen to your requests just this singular time.

"We can't let a man of his kind go, they'll simply have to suffer." She dusts off her hands, standing up from her undeserved throne, "Don't think we forgot about how Julia betrayed us too."

"You're all fucking sick, you're sick in the head!" You scream at the top of your lungs, throat burning and your vision becoming unclear as you are dragged away back to your bedroom.

You spend your next few days with puffy eyes, overthinking every moment. It had been the day of your marriage, a day that you would remember forever but for the wrong reasons. Julia and Jake had still been alive since your torturous parents thought it would be a splendid idea for them to watch.

"You look gorgeous, I'm sorry that this day is not going as you desire, I wish this could be much different." Julia's mother had been the woman to adjust your dress. It was easy to see the sadness and distress in her eyes and you could barely imagine how she must be feeling in the moment.

"Thank you. I'm sorry about Julia." You wince as she tightens the corset.

"There isn't much I can do about that anymore. I tried my best, and it only seemed to make things worse." She comes around to your front, smiling so bittersweetly that it hurts you.

No matter how beautiful the reception is, it just appears revolting to you. Especially when you see Beomgyu waiting at the alter for you, everyone smiling at you like you should be happy and Jake and Julia sat right at the front, handcuffed up with guards on either side of them.

Your father holds on to your arm as you walk down the aisle and it makes you want to throw up on the expensive carpet. When you reach the front, you're practically pushed into Beomgyu's arms and the audience, since it's for show, laughs.

You look at Jake and Julia, them both sharing the same facial expression as you had. Seeing Jake in this light broke your heart and if you weren't in such an awful predicament, you would have ran to him.

"Any objections?" The priests asks before he begins and you have to peel your eyes away from Jake who looks like he hasn't slept in days and is on the verge of tears.

"I object!" Everyone's head turns in awe at the disturbance. You have to rub your eyes to make sure you're seeing things correctly because Riki is standing up on top of one of the further back pews, "I think this place has some decoration."

A sizzling sound is heard from the corner of the building; then the whole left side releases a large explosion that causes the building to begin to fall. With no thought, you start to run towards the exit, alerting Jake and Julia to join you, ripping your dress in the process.

Beomgyu latches onto your arm.

"Let go of me. They’re all I have left." You attempt to say sternly, but your voice trembles as you look between him and the exit. This was your last chance and he was trying to take it away from you. You’re struggling to drag yourself away from him- but he just releases you and turns to leave himself.

Jake, Julia and Riki, even Jay who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, follow suit.

"What the fuck! Where the hell did you get explosives from you psychos!" Jake shouts with an energetic laugh, still running with his hands cuffed — you would have to figure out how to get him out of those once you were all safe.

"I don't know! Sunghoon said he knew some people!" Jay responds, chuckling back at his brother.

You're back at your real home in no time, but you know you'll have to do something about the corrupted royals at some point in time. They could have easily recognised Riki and come back for a less peaceful visit.

"How did you know what was happening?" Julia interrogates the boys, rubbing her wrists to relieve them of the pain from being locked in cuffs for so long.

"They have a weird habit of releasing all information to the public. Heeseung had a feeling that something was wrong and made a visit, luckily was the same day they announced you and had Jake hostage.” Sunoo shrugs, “Sunghoon came back with explosives and still won’t tell us where he got them from.”

"Well, what do we do now?" Jake asks, his arms still holding you protectively. Everyone stays silent, but you know you’ll figure it out together.

Years pass and they never bother you again and you would all laugh that Sunghoon’s mystery explosives must have really made them jump.

Most of the boys had moved on with their lives; Jake found Heeseung and Julia making out in the kitchen one day after a hidden relationship, then the two of them moved out into a new town a little while later to start a family. Jay and Sunghoon found well-paying jobs on travels and would come to visit every moment they could.

The three younger boys stayed back, while you and Jake built up the cottage where you revealed your love for one another to live your own lives.

You smile widely as you examine your growing belly with the new life growing inside of it, Jake watches you lovingly from his desk chair where he writes up his notes for work.

His baby, his pretty girl; you who once stood as royalty lived a simply happy life and Jake finding what he was looking for in the end.

I’d say that deserves a happily ever after.

taglist ; @slutforsjy @jaklvbub @whiskrv @mixtapejimin @zyvlxqht @saintriots @yohanabanana @jentlecoeur @belowbun @meujaeyun @capri-cuntz @greyminyoon1 @river-demon-slayer

828 notes · View notes

pricetagged · 1 month ago

Text

(don't you know) that death is a very stable job ii

Poor little Dormouse, with her cruel father and labourer's hands. You find an unexpected guard dog in one of the passing Knights. Medieval/Fantasy Knight! Simon AU. 8.9k As mentioned in Part i this was inspired by a scene in 'The Serpent Queen' and @/bi-writes 'a hand for a hand'. Content: mild violence, power imbalance (social hierarchy ew), oral (f-receiving), PIV sex,. Reader is described as a young woman, (generally body-neutral but implied to be plump/curvy).

________________________________________________ -------------------------------------------------------------- ii

As the Palace loomed taller and taller you felt you stomach drop lower and lower. You imagined that Simon's horse must be kicking it up the street by now.

Lady Thamesbury's maid had braided your hair into some intricate crown that Simon said looked 'real pretty on ya'. You let Simon pick your riding clothes and fasten your cloak, content that he wouldn't have you looking a fool. Still, you feared that you could look like many other things to the nobles of the court.

It was almost anticlimactic, reaching the doors and being ushered in by staff who flustered around to welcome the Duke of Northmire and Earl of the Northern Isles. You leaned heavily on Simon's forearm as he walked you towards the throne room, his heavy bootsteps echoing the pounding of your heart. Ornate wooden doors opened to reveal a large hall, bisected by a long, elaborate carpet leading to the throne itself. It seemed rather empty, actually. You had expected to see throngs of corseted and besilked courtiers watching you from over the tip of their noses, waiting to see if the silly little dormouse would scratch up the furniture. Instead, the Heralds announced you to the King who sat upright like a cat on his dais. The only other occupants were a lean, handsome man, an upright, elegant lady, and an imposing, whiskered man by her side.

For all your anxiety, it was rather inconsequential. You stuck like a limpet to Simon, ducking and curtseying as he bowed, nodding and smiling as he spoke. The King seemed only mildly interested in you, offering bland congratulations and agreeing to meet with Simon to close the marriage banns and approve the union. He seemed distracted. You had the distinct feeling that you had walked into something important. Something intense. It hung in the air, heavy and viscous as clay. It clung to the walls, to the faces of those gathered, thick and dark and cracking. You hoped that it would flake off, terra fluttering down as you scurried away and out of sight.

Out of mind.

"Good to see you again, Simon," The bearded man clapped him hard upon the shoulders, familiarity warming his smile. He nodded your way, "I see you’ve been busy."

The corners of your lips twitched, smile sprouting up under the glow of this friendly attention. He was big, almost as tall as your Knight. He stood tall, too, finely dressed and fully armed. There was an ease of movement to his steps, his words, like he was used to stating his will and having it be so. Your keen eyes caught the signet ring snug against his thick fingers, and the decorative scabbard at his hips. The weapon within was doubtless more dangerous than its ornamentation would imply.

"Y'r Highness," there was a note of irony in Simon’s voice. Irony without teeth. Playful. "This is my wife."

His warm hand clutched at your waist, strong forearm steeling your back. You bobbed a little curtsey, flustered at the attention.

At the contact.

"Where did he find you, eh?"

"More like where did she find him?" the handsome man at his side cut in, eyebrows quirking between you and Simon.

"Not loungin’ around the palace playing quoits and collectin’ favours from pretty ladies’ maids," he rumbled over the sound of Johnny’s snicker.

"But Simon, the ladies’ maids know all the best secrets," he shot back, rakish glint undimmed in his eyes. Shaking his head slightly, he continued more seriously. "We missed you, Your Grace. Lot of things happening lately."

The four men shared a look, familiarity and trust allowing secrets to leap between them without words. The unspoken danced in the air, silent and striking. You looked away, unfamiliar with the steps and turns. Not privy to the unutterable brotherhood that bound them.

The outlander, the echo of your father’s voice dripped poison in your mind. Playing pretend at the palace.

Only, that wasn’t quite true.

Cold light filtered through stained glass, turning kaleidoscope on the flagstones. On you and Simon. Simon who had yet to leave your side, arm pressing you to his as you bathed in softly coloured apricity. Your sentinel, shielding you under his shadow from the swill-soaked streets of the lower pits all the way up to the palace. Of course he felt how you stiffened, shrinking in on yourself a little. Of course he noticed your shiver, the slight tilt of your head down and to the side. His fingers stroked gently across the softness of your waist, soothing.

"Well, you still got your courtly manners or wot?" He looked between the two men. "Been ridin’ all day. Want to get to our chambers, settle a bit."

"Me an’ all, cannae feel my legs," Johnny slapped at his thighs, perking up at the thought of a soft bed and warm hearth. "Where hae they put me this time?"

"You’re down in the stables with the other beasts, MacTavish," the handsome man cut in again, cheeky. You could hear the grin in his voice.

Johnny swaggered forwards, clapping his friend hard on the shoulder as they all laughed. Tension swept away, you walked along winding corridors swathed in rich tapestries and flickering sconces. As you went, you got the names and titles of your new companions. The confidence of the bearded man made sense, serving now as a Grand Duke but having worked in the service of the Crown for decades. John was his name, and only he outranked Simon. The final man, charming in both face and manner, was Kyle, Prince of Thamesbury. You could see now the similarities between him and his sister, both tall and lissome. Both blessed with a prepossessing sort of beauty, inviting and familiar.

They bid farewell at your door, all bowing at you with a promise to meet with Simon later. Johnny, naturally, made a show of raising your knuckles to his lips to land a smacking kiss that shocked you into laughter so much that you didn’t even think to be embarrassed of your scars.

Their footsteps grew fainter and fainter into silence.

Just you and Simon, like those first few days. A little thrill warmed your chest, like an ember glowing happily red in its fireplace. You wondered if he could feel it, if the warmth suffused outwards to him through flesh and bone and armour until it buried deep into his chest cavity, ribs and gristle acting as the hearth for whatever this was to grow. To blaze brightly.

The door shut, heavy oak and iron ushering you both into your own little world.

"C'mere."

You didn't even think, just folded yourself into him before the final syllable left his lips. He was still outfitted in riding gear and half armour, cold and hard pressing against your cheek. Strong arms enveloped you, cradling you against his bulk. You tipped your head back, gazing up into his eyes. His face was obscured, but you knew what lay underneath. His eyes, dark but so soft, crinkled slightly as you looked up. You imagined the harsh lines of his gnarled face were soft, too, beneath the mask. Your lips parted, aching to ask him-

The rough pad of his fingertip stopped the words before they could form.

Confused, you blinked up at him. There was a barely perceptible shake of his head, finger still gently shushing you. He leaned down, fabric rustling against your ear as you strained to hear his low rumble.

"Wait. Walls 'ave ears."

Like a cat, you nuzzled your face closer to his. His warmth bled through the mask as your lips traced the valley from cheek to ear.

"When?" you felt him shudder as you whispered, the ghost of your breath almost louder than your voice. "I want to know what's going on. I want to help you."

"Tonight. I'll tell ya tonight. After the feast. Few things I still need t' scope out."

He felt your nod.

"Good girl," he pressed his forehead to yours. You felt, more than heard, the rumble of his voice. "Behave y'rself. And remember, you don' answer to anyone who isn't me."

------------------------------- Simon sent away the ladies maids with a curt nod. They'd come to drop off the evening's clothes, to dress you and braid your hair. He watched all the while, eyes never leaving wherever they touched you. They recognised the warning that lay in his silence, never lingering on your skin or teasing you to draw out stories and gossip. You couldn’t even say that you felt like a doll, because you'd always seen the rich girls talk to theirs as they draped them in little cotton overskirts and twisted their flax string hair. As they plucked and pulled and bundled you supposed that you could be akin to a stump doll. Not the soft, delicate, pretty kind but rather the ones roughly hewn from wood into human form. Harder. Sturdier. And yet, as they lifted your arms and twirled you around you reminded yourself that you were malleable too. You could articulate your limbs, turn your head, and weather through the rough and the cold.

And maybe, as Simon's signet ring glinted behind you in the vanity mirror, maybe the storms had passed.

You stared into the mirror as you watched him dismiss them. It was a big, gold ornate thing. Almost grotesque in with its twisting gilt frame, little cherubic faces and animals warped into the design. It was the largest one you'd ever seen. The clearest, too. You could see each and every strand of your hair, swept back and gleaming as decorative pins glistened like dewdrops above your brow. Your skin glistened too, some of that warm little ember in your chest heating you from the inside and making you glow. You looked softer than you ever had before, even when looking at your reflection in the sudsy, shimmering waters of the river where you once stooped and sweated your labour.

Maybe it was the candlelight, maybe it was the past few weeks of care and good food. Maybe it was-

Your Knight stepped up behind you, too tall to be entirely within frame, and placed his heavy hand softly on your shoulder. He leaned down, cheek against yours as he looked at you through the looking glass. His pale blond lashes trembled slightly, pupils flickering across your image as if he sought to study it. To keep you in this frame, you and him imprinted together on polished silver. You wondered if the superstitions were true, if mirrors really could capture the soul and keep it bound forever in the confines of cold metal and glass. His dark, burning eyes met yours and you flicked the thought away. It wouldn't matter if it were true. There was no frame that could hold a Ghost, and if he couldn't be found there then neither would you.

"Suits ya," he trailed his fingers across the dense, glossy velvet of your cotehardie. "I should dress y'in more than just black 'n white. The colour suits ya."

"I like your colours, though. They suit you."

It was true. Black and white. Dusk and dawn. Beginning and end; it was a study in contrasts, the underlying tones and shades to every colour in existence. You could picture it now, the Squire boy from a township not unlike your own. He must have been tall for his age, some kind of strength burning in him and catching the attention of those who normally wouldn't deign to look at errand-boys and helpers. You could picture him older too, black armour on a pale white horse cutting a swathe of red across a copper-drenched field. And now, his pale, scarred face was free from its usual black mask. Gazing right back at you.

"Would you give me a favour? Something in your colours to carry to the feast?"

He huffed a little, dour expression belied by the warmth in his eyes.

"Isn't it meant t'be the other way around? You granting me a ribbon or a handkerchief or a lock of y'r hair?"

"Well, I don't exactly know how these matters work, Simon. I wasn't raised for it," you felt no embarrassment referencing your past to him now. Here. In your chambers. "But I know enough to say that one normally is granted a favour before embarking on a quest or challenge."

There a was a little archness to your tone, a silly attempt to mimic the cadence of the women you'd heard shuffling around the courtyard.

"I see," he couldn't quite suppress the twitch of his thin, scarred lips. "Cheeky thing, aren't ya. Attending a feast as my wife that difficult, eh?"

Your nose scrunched, protest etched into your nerves before the words formed. "Attending the feast is. I'm not well educated, but I am not stupid, Simon. I know that something is afoot - yes, I know you'll tell me later. I- I'm just not entirely sure what is expected of me."

Instead of answering, you watched as he tugged at the fastening of his surcoat until the thick, black cord slipped free. It was exhilarating watching hands that wrought death move so dexterously. You had never considered yourself an aesthete, but imagined that gazing at Simon would make you so. There was a sort of rawness to his beauty, like a cliff weathered by sea and spray. The valleys and ridges, the pockmarks and scars, stood as a testament to strength and endurance. And now, it was brought low before you.

His reflection dipped lower and lower out of your line of sight, a mountain brought low by a breeze. He still appeared huge, behemoth, on his knees. It caused something to cramp in your belly, watching through the mirror how he matched you height even as he crouched to the floor. You burned, low and furling in your core until it rose languidly up to your cheeks. Your underlayers, the soft cotton chemises, felt suffocating and itchy against your dampening flesh. You held your breath, scared to snuff out this moment, this dizzying feeling that made your face hot and sent your thoughts swirling.

It was excruciating, feeling the heavy drag of your skirts inching up your calf. The rough, uneven pads of his fingers ticked the curve of your ankle as he lifted it to his lap. Cool, woven leather coiled around and around, tying a little piece of him around you. It wasn't tight, just nestled comfortably, but you knew that you'd feel it as you walked. As you sat and listened and talked, all the while pretending that you couldn't feel the extemporal wedding-garter nestled under your skirts. Secret as a whisper.

His hand lingered, fingertips swirling higher above the makeshift anklet, taking in the softness of your calf. How the muscle twitched as you tried not to shudder. You licked your lips and finally, finally, dragged your eyes away from you own blown pupils staring back at you through the mirror. You looked down past layers of tight bodice and velvet skirts until you could see that his pupils were just as blown as yours.

His eyes never left yours as he stood, brushing close to your chest util he towered over you once more. You could feel the rise of his chest through your bodice, his calm, steady breaths belied by the intensity of his gaze on yours. Maybe he could feel your pulse, hammering so hard that it must surely be visible in the delicate line of your arched neck. Maybe he could feel your hitching breaths, just as he could feel yours. His rough, warm hand came to caress your cheek like unpolished wood meeting velvet. You leaned in, held your breath, and let your eyes drift closed.

In the autogenic darkness of your lids you watched shadow turn to phosphene as you felt his face dip lower. The slight tickle of stubble on your cheek wrought a shiver, before you melted into the press of his scarred lips against yours. It was languid, slow, dragging across your lips until they parted. His large hand cradled the back of your head as he tasted you, wet and open-mouthed, until you felt dizzy and weak-kneed. His lips moved up, stopping finally to kiss your forehead as you swayed in his arms.

"I told ya already. Be good, be wary. And don' answer to anyone who isn't me." You nodded slowly, looking up at him with head heavy and hot. He smiled, then, a gristled, toothy thing that twisted his already scarred face. You couldn't help but to smile back. "There she is, my wily little dormouse. Time t'go."

Arriving at the Great Hall was a blur, but somehow he managed to direct your bambi legs across uneven flagstones and winding stairs. Your thoughts cooled as you journeyed through the damp, castle halls, leaving behind something viscous and sticky on your flesh. Between your thighs. You shivered in the cold, stone halls, grateful now for the heavy clothes that earlier had felt so burdensome. How far had you come from the girl who knew nothing of men except to avoid them? The girl who imagined slipping in the shoal of the lower districts, unsteady on the grit of the sandbanks until the water swelled and took her away. In lieu of pinching yourself at the table, you crossed your legs and pressed one ankle into the other, the facsimile of elegance and ease.

Only you knew that you sought to dig the cord around your ankle deeper, let it tear through integument and tendons until flesh healed over top and fused it into you.

Would even that be enough? Would anything?

His meaty thigh pressed into yours.

You smiled prettily up at him, something secret in the curve of your lips and the fluttering of your lashes. The wine at the table was heavy, fragrant, and made you lightheaded almost as much as Simon had earlier. Almost enough to set you at ease, to make you forget about all others in the room.

The bubble burst as feasting turned to frolicking.

You didn't know how to dance. The reason was multifold, the first being that it simply wasn’t a part of your education. People danced in the lower districts, yes, but you imagined it to be a little too raucous, too unrefined for current company. Another reason was that it hardly fit the directive - be quiet, be meek, be sweet - that ruled most of your life as you scurried away from the sight of others. Who had the time, energy, or inclination to dance when each day was spent splitting skin with lye and cold water, working until the body ached and belly rumbled? You hadn't even had the coin for a glass of cheap, tavern swill after handing all earnings over to your father.

You noticed how, during the feast, the threat of Simon's reputationn had killed any attempts at conversion. You wondered, now, if alcohol and music would embolden anyone beyond curious glances and hushed whispers. Hopefully not.

You were joined only by the men you had met earlier. Simon's friends; the Ghost's brethren.

"Dinnae fancy a dance, Yer Grace?"

"Not if y'r offerin'."

"Nae offering you, that's fer sure," Johnny turned towards you after slapping Simon on the shoulder. "What d'ye say, Bonnie? Know how tae jig?"

You shook your head hard, lips pressed together to suppress a smile. You could picture it, sure that he'd be nothing if not an enthusiastic partner, twirling you around the floor like a leaf on the breeze. He was outfitted in a slightly more decorative version of his usual islesman garb, gold threads intertwined with the heavy wool of his tartan. His eyes still shone a little too bright, that same intensity dancing across his face, but it didn't alight your instincts. Simon trusted him. You trusted Simon. There was comfort in the simplicity.

"I'm not much of a dancer, My Lord. I'd only step on your toes."

"My toes can take it, nae bother."

"She doesn't want t'dance. Go bother one of th'other ladies." There was no real heat in Simon's voice, amusement clear in the tilt of his brow.

"Yer no fun. Just plannin' tae glare from the corner o'the hall all night?"

"You could join us, if ya want. Might change the glare t'a glower once the candles burn down."

Johnny chuffed through his nose at that, rolling his eyes at thr approaching Kyle. With a nod in your direction, he addressed his friend.

"Disnae want tae dance, barely will talk without a dour comment. Got any ideas to liven them up, Gaz?"

"Don't look at me, I'm here for some quiet too. Too much chatter, not enough said over there," he nodded towards the group of men he'd just left across the hall. Earlier, the heralds had announced them as the King's military advisors and diplomatic envoys. They looked it, too, standing tall and with the ease that is born of power and prestige. Their swords glinted and mouths smiled even as their eyes remained flat and shifty. Arch and calculating as a gentleman fox.

"Yer all dreich as a ditch in winter," he groaned half-heartedly, winking at you as you tried not to laugh.

Simon caught your eye, too, something playful flickering around him, turning his shock of blond hair into a nimbus. Your mind was already able to fill in the blanks of his face, to paint over the black maw of his mask. You knew that he was smirking, tongue running across his teeth as he savoured what he was about to say.

"I'll tell ya a joke, then, Johnny-"

"-oh, naw, not another one o'those-"

"What do you call it when a wizard's wand is broken?"

"A wizards..? Dinnae ken."

"A spell of bad luck."

Even Kyle groaned at that, shaking his head like a dog shaking off water. "That was terrible. I heard better over there," he nodded towards the strategic envoy across the floor.

"Okay, okay. One more. What do y'call a Knight with poor swordsmanship?" Simon crossed his arms across the wide barrel of his chest and leaned back against the wall, all ease and confidence despite the heckling audience.

"Dinnae know."

"Y'call him John MacTavish," he didn’t wait for the line to land before he let out a quiet hehehe, laughing even as Johnny's face turned red and chest puffed up.

"Yer a roaster, Simon, an absolute roaster. That's my cue tae find Price," he called over his shoulder as he marched towards a nondescript side door.

"You best go and join him, Simon. The Captain was looking for you too," Kyle must have read the hesitation in his frame, the way his face lingered on yours. "I'll be here."

It left you off-kilter, slightly. The heavy weight always balanced at your side was striding across the room, cutting a swathe through revelers as they tried both to avoid him and keep him in their sights. Little flocks of feathery, pecking creatures banding together as the wolf skulked through their coop.

They didn't even warrant a glance from him.

But for you it left you lopsided. Watching as he slipped into the shadows. Missing him. Maybe you'd always feel that way, always need something to ground you. Before, it was the weight of a basket set against your plush hip, digging in and leaving bruises with the heft of sopping shifts and underskirts. Now it was him, wide, warm palm frequently brushing the swell of your waist. Large shadow always in your periphery.

In the future, could that space be filled with something of yours? Both of yours. Something sweet and small and-

could it-?

"It must have been an interesting courtship," Kyle's low, smooth voice cut through your reverie.

"Yes, most unexpected," you turned to look up at him. With just the two of you, temporary wallflowers decorating the fringes, you could take in more of his face. Neat little mustache; big brown eyes. Beautiful. Smart. Like the bloodhounds who stirred around the forest's edge, just waiting to catch the right scent. "But I'm glad for it."

Wordplay was best-served when honest. You were not as skilled as those around you, perhaps, but you had experience in knowing when and where to hold your tongue.

"As are we," he must have caught the slight widening of your lids, the parting of your lips. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, all sincere camaraderie. "No need to look surprised. I've followed him to the bleakest, blood-soaked fields this side of the known world. I've never known him to make a bad decision. Don't let others find room for doubt."

It was strange, this ready acceptance from his men. It was all the more stark when contrasted with the strangers at the palace. You'd seen the glances around the room, yes, the curious eyes. The occasional sneers. The whispers of The Ghost and his captive bride. But you'd grown hardened against rumours over the years, though attention still left you askance.

"Noted, my lord." you played coy - be sweet-. "I defer to your expertise."

He laughed, smile lambent as the light from a candle. "Johnny tried to tell me you were skittish."

"His lordship likes to talk."

"And you don't, I see. That's good. Some things are better left unsaid."

"Yes, so I've seen," you sent a pointed look at the door through which your husband had disappeared.

He looked at you, then, something like respect under the arch of his brows. "Smart too. Though, Ghost was right to keep this to himself." It was silent for a moment before he squinted at something across the ballroom. "You could help, if you wanted."

"Help with what?"

"With a little fishing. The man on his way - yes, him. Blond hair, black tunic - he's been sniffing around all night for scraps. He's very keen to see what Ghost has been doing since the Zakhaev Campaign in the East."

You were reminded starkly that the man who knelt at your feet and kissed you so softly spent most of his life blanketed in the smoke and splatter of the battlefield. It wasn't something that you had forgotten, per se, as you thought back to the circumstances of your meeting. Rather, it was known to you in the same way that you knew the sun would rise in the morning. You saw it from a distance, admired it even, but did not think on it beyond that. Perhaps it was naïve, brushing off the reputation of your husband whilst others whispered it in fear. But you thought back to his directive to you, 'Don't answer to anyone who isn't me,' and turned to regard the approaching newcomer.

It was as clear as the crystal you'd been sipping from all night; you wouldn't leave this hall without speaking to this man.

Rather, he wouldn't leave this hall without speaking to you.

He sought you out. He thought that he anything you would reveal would be to his benefit. You hid your smile behind your wine glass.

"He's important, I take it?"

"You've heard of 'The Shephard'?" he continued at your nod. "The King's advisor. An old war dog. Graves answers to him."

It swirled around, more information clouding the glass rather than clearing it. You weighed it up in your mind, testing the form and density of your thoughts. One stood out, and you cradled it. Let it roll around in your mind and still your tongue-

-Whatever this intrigue was, it truly didn't interest you.

As a girl, when you hungered so deeply that it gnawed at you even in your sleep, you cared nothing for the palace. The Crown meant nothing to you, nothing to the other laundresses, as you pounded stains against rocks in the long, humid days of summer. Knights and Lords and their ilk seldom slid far enough down the tiers to be seen in your village. They meant nothing to you. Not when food, fire, safety were hard to find and hard-won.

But perhaps that's why your interest was stirred a little. With belly-full and body-warm what were you left to think of? When 'Simon' became synonymous with 'safety', what would you do to keep it that way? What would you do to fight for it the way your bone-tired body once fought for basic dignity?

Simon had spilled blood for you. Had painted the cobbles at your feet with the sluggish, rusty ichor of your worthless father.

What would you-?

You glanced at the buffet table to your left, setting down the shield of your wine glass. It slopped over, a little claret stain bleeding onto the tablecloth. You tried not to take it as an omen. You gazed at the excess of the banquet, a kaleidoscope vanitas of fruits, cheeses, meats. Would they be left to rot? Untouched as the nobles twittered and flitted 'til the small hours. Would the servants be privileged enough to feed off the scraps after they'd been left to go stale? You let the rich, heady scent turn bitter and harden your face.

"Your Grace, may I present Philip Graves, Commander of the Shadow Company," Kyle gestured at the newcomer, all ease and neutrality. "Commander, the Duchess of Northmire."

"I believe that congratulations are in order," he bowed, a lazy half-nod in your direction. "Allow me the pleasure of your company with a dance."

"I'm not much of a dancer, my lord. But, you are welcome to keep our company as we observe," you demurred, eying the sharp cut of his smirk.

"Oh, I insist. It is a ball, after all," he licked at his lips, "You can, uh, balter as much as you please."

You played off your sneer as a smile. A little twitch of your nose. "But of course."

As he drew you forth you spent the gallows steps to the floor studying your quarry. He was handsome, yes, but there was something cold and sharp to his face. All angles and slopes in shades of pewter. You thought to handle him like a particularly sharp knife.

"Enjoying the festivities, ma'am?" you let him draw you just close enough to be polite, and slipped into his steps. "How does it compare with the parties back in your lands?"

"It doesn't; this is the palace, after all."

He hummed, dead eyes and charming smile. "That's a real pretty accent. I didn't quite catch where Ghost snapped you up from."

"My father arranged it. Not so exciting as to be the topic of court gossip."

That earned you what must have been a laugh. A soft chuff as he fixed you under his frigid gaze. Perhaps he thought you'd squirm, that you were some simple country lady raised to be sweet and obliging as she was packed off to the palace. You'd scurried from men like him, before. The kind of greasy, nipping dog that was sent down badger holes and rabbit warrens, slick and fast and mean. The kind who was powerful under another's command, crunching through necks and then coming to heel when called.

"I'm not one for gossip, My Lady," something stirred behind his lips, mouth twisting as he considered his next words.

Whatever they were, they were left unsaid.

"Been lookin' f'r ya."

"Ah, Ghost" he greeted your husband like an old friend. "Congratulations. Quite the charming little parvenu you've got here."

You didn't need to look behind you to feel how those words settled about as well as vinegar in the stomach. Sour. Biting.

"Be careful, Graves," his voice was rough, like the words scraped over angry, spitting coals before he released them. The firm, heavy bulk of his body pressed close to your side. You melted into him, leaning close so that the three of your stood in a clumsy isosceles. "Run on back t' Shepard. Heard he's callin' ya, missin' his dog."

"No need for that. We were just having a chat, weren't we now?" You kept your lips sealed, chin held high as you fidgeted out of his grasp and towards Simon. You didn't like the look on his face, the mocking, smug set of his smile as his eyes darted between you both. He sighed, like you'd somehow disappointed him. "You know, Ghost, playing knight-errant doesn't suit you."

Once back in Simon's arms you realised how Graves had left you distorted, shoulders hitched high and neck twisted and taut. Where you'd joined hands felt tacky, like dipping your fingers in the thick, greasy tallow you'd once used to make soap. You didn't look as he strutted away, instead just breathed in the comforting leather and musk of the sentry at your side.

Your eyes found the banquet table again, still glistening with fats and sweets. Only now, you could see the flies hovering around, rubbing their bristly black-stick legs together and burrowing in deep. ----------------------------

You were loath to slip away from Simon after that, now used to having him fill that empty, aching place in your chest. But the walls were closing in.

The air in the room had grown balmy and sweet, spilled drinks and sweat saturating the tablecloths and curtains. It reminded you of the drinking districts, of grubby hands digging into your arm and dragging you down to - to -

-to whatever didn't happen that night. That night Simon showed up.

Still, you needed air. You needed something cold; some sharp, icy breeze to sweep through the foliage sprouting in you mind. You sought to forage through what was left, scrabble over the dead leaves and twigs until you uncovered the verdant little buds below (I belong here. I belong-). You felt unmoored, like a spiraling sycamore leaf battling weather and wind until you were blown into the palace. Ready to be swept away. It was so easy to believe Simon when it was just you and him. You imagined the matter was as simple to him as breathing. The blood of other men spilled because he willed it. Men listened to him because he said so. You were his because he found you.

Simple.

But as you navigated the warren of palace halls in your fancy clothes and borrowed finery, you felt the acetous bubbles of doubt fizzing in your stomach. It was not Simon you doubted, but rather yourself. Little dormouse playing pretend. Talking and walking as if your timorous little heart wasn't fluttering in your chest. As if the petticoats and overskirts didn’t feel warm and burdensome, like the kind that would swell with water and drag you under back when you were nothing but a timid, inchoate shadow under the thrall of your father.

Something of Grave's words niggled at you - knight-errant. You know he meant it as an insult, but it just didn't quite fit Simon. Like throwing a cheap blow against the steely armour on his hulking frame. It just glanced off. But a little scratch lingered. The hint of something accusatory - like he'd slipped the leash, wandered too far and-

Low, rolling voices echoed off the damp stone walls. The sconces flickered as you looked around, boxed in between a heavy tapestry and unlatched door.

"-distracted by that little pony he's picked up from god-knows-where." It was Graves, cocksure and brash. "Now's the time, boys. Order's from on high."

"Allen is already in place with Kingfish. Awaiting your missive."

"That's what I like to hear," you could hear the swell of his chest. Anticipation let his words flow like honey from a hive. "Now, you and your brigade are to, uh, accompany the 141 when they're sent to El Reino de Las Almas in two days' time. Remember, no loose ends."

"Yes, Sir."

"Dismissed."

The blood rushing past your ears drowned out the rest of the exchange. Your whiskers twitched, prickling with unease as you glanced about for an escape. The sound of the door scraping across the tiles killed that hope.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" It was hard to turn your head, like trying to mold stiff wax, but you managed it. "Little far from the Grand Hall.

Your mother's advice echoed in your mind, as familiar and comforting as well-worn clothes. (Be quiet, be meek, be sweet-

-Don't answer to anyone who isn't me).

"You're right," you let out the breath you were holding, hoping to pass it off as relief. "I'm glad to see you, Commander Graves. Perhaps you would do the honour of escorting me? I'm afraid I'm a little lost."

"Don't do that. Don't think that I'll be taken in by that. You're puttin' me in a tough spot," he seemed to chew at his next words, rolling them around as he pinned you down with his dead eyes. "My lady."

Run, you thought. You eyed up the man before you, not as big as your Knight but still not worth underestimating. But a glance down the shadowed, unfamiliar halls had you thinking again. Run where?

He caught your furtive little twitch, tutted at you as he grasped at the meat of your upper arm. "Let's have a little talk, you and I."

You would have tripped over the layers of your skirts were it not for his vice grip holding you up. He let go abruptly, letting you stumble into the study from which he'd just emerged.

This time the door latched shut.

Papers littered the writing desk, all maps and missives that you couldn't read. You watched the slow, rolling drip of the candle wax in the corner as you tried to calm your racing thoughts. Would it burn down before you got out of here? Would someone stumble in, see only you and the cooling puddle of paraffin spilled across the floor?

What would Simon do, you thought. Simon, who was being set-up by the sinewy, sharp-toothed predator pacing behind you.

What would I do for Simon?

"It's real unfortunate you had to hear that." Funny. There was nothing of misfortune in his tone. "See, I don't much fancy what has to be done. But I can't let you go tellin' tales."

You raised your arms to your chest as he approached, letting the sleeves roll down and reveal your forearms. Your tough, cross-hatched labourers' hands.

He raised an eyebrow at your silence, somehow managing to look down at you from paces away. You knew his type. Like the nasty little terriers your father used to bet on, cheering as they tore into the squeaking, scrabbling rats trapped in the ring. It was nothing personal for him, you were sure, but that wouldn't stop him from enjoying it.

"Telling tales implies that my words would be fictitious," you couldn't resist one little dig. Let him chew on that, sniff at the bait you cast as your mind raced with what to do next. What to do, what to-

"Cute," it bought you only a second. "You realise that this is bigger than you, sweetheart. If it were up to me-"

You darted for the letter opener to your right, papers flying as your shaking, numb fingertips grappled to pick it up. There would be no talking him around, no amount of demurring and fluttered lashes that would get him to unlock his jaw.

"Now why'd you have to go and do a silly thing like that?"

It was silent for a beat, your wide, glossy eyes fixed on his unblinking stare. He was cold, focused in a way that tugged at the animal instincts in the back of your neck. You watched as he tilted his head to the side, sure that his teeth were slick and limbs coiled ready to snatch you as you made a mad dart for the door. Only, that wasn't your plan. You weren't the meek little ingenue he written you off as. A softer thing would have swooned as he manhandled her into the room alone, unchaperoned. A gentler creature would have bristled at his familiarity, calling you 'sweetheart' like he had the right. His years surrounded by lesser men and court sycophants had blinded him to one simple truth.

You weren't one of them.

It seemed to catch him off guard, shifted him slightly off kilter as he watched you steel your jaw and brace yourself near the table's edge. You'd hauled heavier loads than the delicate little paper knife biting into your hands. You were soft, yes, but it was a layer built over strength. Years of labour had seasoned you to pain, had hewn muscle and callouses just as valuable as those earned by other means. You weren't strong enough to fight him, true, but you were damned sure you would hold him off.

You tensed low and balanced, surefooted on the tiles as much as you were on the riverbanks. Shadows flicked under the sway of the dying candles, obscuring the razor contours of his face. Ephemeral. Volatile. You gulped down the bile bubbling up your throat as he advanced lazily towards you.

Only, something else emerged from the shadows. Transmuted from black and grey until he was not a shade but a man. A Ghost.

The candle snuffed, sooty trails of charcoal spiraling up. You saw through a haze, achromatic. Felt the shifting of weight, the dull thuds of fists hitting meat. Sluicing through sinew until you scented something metallic and hot. Your racing thoughts and galloping heart couldn't keep up with the scene, uselessly flitting across apparitions as the details struggled through the thick sludge of your mind.

-two shadows, or three? more?

hands grasping at you - no, holding you -

- something soothing -

-someone crying? were they-? -something heavy, trussed up and dragged-

-'We've got it, Simon-'

Your trembling fingers clutched at something slick, solid.

"Easy, easy dormouse," your quivering chin was pressed hard against the soaked fabric at his neck. You tasted salt on your lips, hot and wet and bleeding down your cheeks. Simon. Simon stroking at your hair as he cradled you close. He was so big. How could have forgotten the heft of him, the way he swallowed you up in arms as thick as branches? "I've got ya. You're with me."

You swam through the mire, nuzzled your nose into his neck one last time before peeling back. It was still dark, hazy, in the room. But pressed this close it didn't matter. You reached up, shaking fingertips stroking along the lines of a face revealed only to you. You could just about make out the pale crown of his hair, the whites of eyes that rested heavy on your face. You wondered how you looked to him, if he saw past the shuddering breaths and cracked lips to recognise that it was joy that sprung your tears. More than relief, more than gratitude it was some kind of retrouvaille. You wanted to cup the feeling, let it ripple and glimmer in between your palms as you brought it to his lips.

He'd lap at it - no, he'd drink it down greedily. Your sentry. Your paladin. The man who made you an orphan just to take you in.

How foolish of you to doubt that, to doubt yourself. You, who survived every winter and every famine made harder under the roof of your father. You, who bade the man who told you he wasn't made for anything but bloodshed, yet knelt at your feet.

You pressed your lips to his through the fabric of his mask, let him taste the words that cut through your sobs. "Never again, Simon. Never again."

Doubt. Faltering. Loneliness. Meekness, quiet, skittishness-

Never again. ------------------------------- You didn't flinch from the sight of the red that splattered the finery of your clothes. You'd seen gore before, had scrubbed at it until your fingers burned and skin peeled. Only, that wasn't your job anymore-

The snick of a match snapped you from your reverie. You were back, ensconced in your chambers with your knight. Your husband. You weren't sure of the time, of what happened at the ball or in the study. It didn't seem to matter, not when you were tucked away in the safe little suite where only you and he existed.

"I drew a bath f'r ya," his voice was soft, restrained. That just wouldn't do.

"Simon, look at me, look," you reached for him in a wispy parallel to your night at the townhouse. He was solid, planted to the ground but you felt him give as you tugged him close. You had to arch your neck back just to meet his eyes. "I- won't you join me?"

It rolled between you, this suggestion. You saw exactly when the idea took root, heat blossoming to burnt umber as his pupils dilated. You pressed in close, feeling the soft give of his stomach. If you placed your ear to his chest, would you hear his heart race? Could he want you as much as you wanted him? Did he know about the covetous, greedy thing that quivered inside your chest and cried out for you to bite down on the dense, keloid-slashed muscles until you tasted iron?

Would he let you?

It was scalding, searing heat that had simmered all the while he carried you back. Dizzying and fervent you wondered for a moment if you'd died in that room. That you'd risen some hungry, gluttonous creature driven only by voluptuary urges. But then you remembered the longing from earlier, the heady rush that sapped the strength from your legs as you watched him kneel before you.

"Will you make me beg for it? Make me say please?"

"Never," he spoke it like a promise. "Think I'd leave ya wanting?"

His hand felt cool against your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, hoping it would douse the flames somewhat.

It stoked them higher.

You reached for the tie of his mask as he reached for your dress. The fabric prickled at your skin as it slid down, laces loosened at the front and revealing your chest to him. Your breasts felt heavy, nipples pebbling in the cool air under they were covered by his palm. You could see his lids dip low, desire making them heavy as he kneaded your sensitive flesh until you arched into it.

"Beautiful," he groaned as he dipped his head down. "Fuck, just need to have a taste-"

His large hand spanned your back, keeping you upright as he knelt before you once more. The heat of his mouth surprised you, wet tongue laving at soft skin as his other hand reached up to squeeze and roll at the sensitive peaks as you gasped and squirmed. You tugged at his hair, nails scratching into his scalp in a way that seemed to spurn him on. He pulled at your skirts, urgency tearing the seams against your hips and making you hiss. He mouthed down the swell of your stomach until he kissed away the sting, sucking new marks atop the ones he just left.

Desire sparks followed his mouth, leaving you sticky and pulpy until you sagged against the bed. It was an ouroboros kind of appetite, where the more he satiated himself the hungrier you grew. You felt raw, winded, as he spread your thighs to make space for his broad shoulders. So broad that the stretch hurt, made you arch up from the bed to paw him away with clumsy fingers.

"Simon, I can't- what are you-?" you whined as his teeth left imprints in the softness near your core.

"Shh," he soothed you with his tongue. "Need t'get you ready f'r me. Just lie back."

His forearm bulged as it banded across your stomach, keeping you pinned. You pressed your lips together, swallowed your cries as you felt him nudge at the wetness between your thighs. Gentler than you expected, he parted your folds, running his thick finger through the wetness that had gathered there.

"Ah-" you bit back a whine as he found the spot where you throbbed, circling the little bud at the apex of your core until your knees shook. Only the bulk of his shoulders prevented you from snapping them shut.

"That's it, love. Don' fight it. Let me see ya," he rumbled over the buzzing in your ears. You felt too hot, too heavy to do anything but twist against the pleasure that he wrung from you. Spread out, naked on satin sheets that stuck to your drenched back. You were open to him, entirely laid bare and thought made you ache. You felt yourself drip against his rough palm, soak the fingers that prodded your fluttering entrance.

"I need you, but I don't-"

"S'alright, I know what y'need."

You tried to follow the pull of his voice, to raise your head off the mattress and watch but the nudge of his nose against your folds had you falling back. His mouth felt hot, tongue laving over your sensitive flesh in a way that had you clawing at the sheets. You keened out, wanting to squirm away and press closer all at once. The noise would have embarrassed you, slick and loud in the quiet of the room. Would have, except you heard him groan into you, felt the rumble of it against your cunt as he feasted. He ate you like he was starving, fingers digging into your thighs so hard that you knew he'd leave an imprint in purple and red. Your thighs shook against his grip, body twisting against the pleasure building and building until it snapped and you surrendered.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you panted towards the canopy. Shivers danced along your spine as you lay limp on the mattress, exposing your hot, wet flesh to the coolness of the night. You were so slick that you felt the air biting at your inner thighs, and Simon's sloppy, lingering kisses at your core had you swiping at his hair.

"Simon, it's too much," there was something whiny, breathy in your voice.

"No such thing as too much of a good thing," he shed the remainders of his clothes, crawling up the bed until the firm lines of his body pressed into the soft lines of yours. He hovered above you, face-flushed and eyes dark. "I'm going t'take as much as I want, and I still won't be satisfied."

"What-?"

"Y'r my wife," he leaned down, let you taste yourself against his lips. "Mine. Never had much that was all f'r me."

You smiled into the kiss, shaking off the shyness that urged you to cover up, hide, look away- "Me neither."

You nipped at his lips, let him feel the indent of your blunt little teeth until the press of his fingers against your entrance left you open-mouthed and slack. His thick, calloused fingers circled your hole, testing how you fluttered and dripped for him. Stretched you out on the width of two fingers until you cried into his mouth. You felt the nudge of his cock, heavy and throbbing, as he made a space for himself inside your body. He was so thick, rocking in slowly so that you felt the exquisite sting of every inch. Your whines caught in your throat, head spinning as you danced the line of pleasure-pain spread open under your husband.

He carried you to the bathtub afterwards, your cunt aching and dripping with his spend. (He had run his fingertips along your swollen folds, scooping up his cum and pressing it back into your stretched hole. Kissed you sweetly as he whispered filth, knuckle-deep in your cunt).

Now, in the lambency of candlelight, he rasped promises and secrets against your goosebumped flesh. His fingers trailed over perfumed water as he knelt by side, content and warm; aeipathy subdued for now, but enduring.

"When I first saw ya, I -" he cut himself off, strained as he searched for the words. You lay silent, patient as his words ripened behind his lips; laconism blooming into ephemeral fruits. "Y'reminded me of the girls back home. Th'ones by the river or in the taverns, too smart or too busy to bother with the likes of me. Familiar, real. Beautiful."

Your breath hitched, heart swelling under your breast as your watched him struggle for the words you were so wont to hear.

"When I first saw you, you scared me," your lips twisted a little, wry, as you confessed to him. "Only, you scared me less than him."

You scoffed, water splashing as you drew your knees to your chest and tucked your head low. You looked at him, needing him to read the truth in your face as you bared yourself just as he had. "I'm sorry, that's not particularly romantic, is it? Being desperate? But it's true. And I'm so thankful for it, since otherwise I might not have- we might never have-"

The words caught like wire in your throat. Painful.

Unthinkable.

But wasn't it beautiful, that brutal honesty? Wasn't it a relief to purge the poison; to dig in and drain the bad humours like rivers swirling into estuaries.

If you expected censure, you wouldn't find it. Not from him, no. You felt his finger chuck under your chin and let him raise your head.

"I know, dormouse. I know" --------------------------------

Well, it is done. Several months later and finally posted. I'm not 100% happy with this, but I can't justify sitting on it any longer. Also, it's December and seems fitting to wrap this up before the end of the year (part i wasy my first ever COD fic).

#i may have made simon too soft in this but meh #even a grizzled old war dog dreams of a soft bed #also tumblr has eaten this FOUR times when i tried to insert a 'read more' so idk what that says #knight simon riley #simon riley/reader #simon riley cod #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod fanfic #historical au

311 notes · View notes

frost-queen · 9 months ago

Text

The fall of a knight (Reader!Targaryen x Sir Criston Cole)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Summary: Reader dislikes Criston from how he acts towards your sister Rhaenyra. Constantly fighting with him and being sassy, till it starts attracting him. Years pass as Criston's attraction for you only grows. You still act the same towards him, not much changed over the years. When another starts flirting with you, it brings a bad jealousy over to Criston, taking you as his even though he can't have you. [R! has purple eyes just like in the books]

It was way too late when you got a sudden idea. The scenery taunting your dreams as it woke you up. Your thirst for knowledge needing to be lessened. Throwing the covers off you, you got out of bed, putting on your slippers. Your heritage of the Targaryen bloodline interesting you so much. Surely since you were the only Targaryen with lavender eyes. You had always wondered how it came.

Slightly opening the door to your chamber, you stuck your head out and peeked around. Seeing if there was anyone in the corridor. Not being able to wait till morning, you just needed to get to the family library that withheld all of the Targaryen history. Perhaps there you might find answers to your questions. Perhaps there had been another with lavender eyes? Taking your chance, you ran out of your room, running through the corridors.

Sir Criston Cole was standing guard before your sister’s room. Making sure no one would disturb her sleep or come and harm her. Sir Criston furrowed his brows hearing rushed footsteps. Turning his head he saw you ran around the corner fast, making him tilt his head. It took him a few seconds before placing his hand on the top of his sword, coming to run after you. – “Princess!” – he said in a hushed tone to not alarm any others.

Clenching his jaw, he quickened up his pace. Sir Criston caught up with you, grabbing you to a stop. – “What are you doing out of bed?” – he questioned with a scolding voice. You were panting a bit, catching your breath. – “I need…I need to go to the library.” – you told him seeing his face change to anger. – “It’s the middle of the night!” – he shout-whispered to you.

“It can’t wait.” – you replied brushing his hand off you. Sir Criston took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. You crossed your arms, quirking your eyebrow up. – “Shouldn’t you be protecting my sister?” – you asked him. – “You need to be in bed!” – he countered crossing his arms as well.

“Have you left her unattended?” – quirking your brow even more, just to taunt him. – “No.” – he groaned out. – “I don’t need saving. I’ll be quick.” – you said already turning round to head to the library as Sir Criston kept you in place by holding your wrist. Turning you back to him. – “Bed is where you are heading!” – he made clear, pulling you along with him.

You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but it was no use. Sir Criston led you back to your room, shoving you inside. – “Don’t get any funny idea’s princess!” – he scolded closing the door before him. You groaned annoyed. You hated that he had seen you. The thirst for knowledge still vivid. Unlike your sister, who was rather carefree, you were not.

You found her ignorant of her surroundings. She couldn’t even name any battle formations right. Rather spend her time with Alicent than prepare herself properly for her future on the iron throne. Kneeling down, you tried to look through the keyhole. You couldn’t see clearly, so you hoped Sir Criston Cole had left to guard your sister’s door once more. Taking the handle in your hand, you slowly opened the door, still crouched down. – “Going somewhere?” – Sir Criston commented, looking over his shoulder down to you.

A smirk on his lips. – “I hate you.” – you breathed out. Sir Criston positioned himself better in your view taking a dramatic bow at you. – “I’ll be here all night.” – he mocked just to taunt you more. Annoyed you shut the door again. He surely wasn’t going to let you pass now with him guarding your door. Pacing around, you hoped perhaps he’d fall asleep. Which was unlikely. The hours past as you felt yourself get exhausted. Eventually falling asleep sitting down, with your head down on the table.

The next day, your sister, Alicent and you were at the white tree. Rhaenyra and Alicent sitting down and gossiping. You sitting at the other end, as far away from them. You lifted your head up from your book, feeling a presence come from behind you. – “Had a good night rest?” – looking up, you saw Sir Criston Cole standing behind you. Making you roll your eyes at him. – “Should you not be watching my sister.” – you let out, focusing on your book once more. – “I am.” – he answered, still looking back at your sister.

“That the book you so desperately needed to read in the middle of the night?” – he teased with a smirk. His comment made you shut your book tight. – “Mockery, how elegant.” – you responded with a sneer while getting up. Giving him a sarcastic smile. Sir Criston Cole gave you a sarcastic smile back. – “Sir Criston!” – Rhaenyra called out to him. He lifted his head up to her, seeing her wave him over. Sir Criston jogged over to your sister to answer her plead. – “Jaos” dog you mumbled under your breath.

Sitting annoyed down, you watched how Rhaenyra wrapped him around her finger. Him doing all her bidding. Having enough, you got up, taking your leave. There was no room for you anyways. The three of them so caught up with each other, they hardly noticed you taking your leave. You made your way around the castle, ending up at the fighting court.

Soldiers practising as you stopped and stared. Observed their movement. Watched it with the upmost attention. Taking notice of their footwork. The way their muscles worked whilst handling the sword. It made you move your own foot to match their stand. Trying to get the right distance between your feet for a steady stand. Sir Criston found his way on the fighting court, seeing you watch the soldiers practise.

He got in motion heading over to you. Pausing briefly he noticed you swiping your feet over the ground setting it in a position. Making him furrow his brows. He then eyed the soldiers, making a link with what you were doing. Sir Criston made his way across towards you.

“Found you!” – he said coming to be at your side. – “I didn’t need finding.” – you replied stoking some folds off your skirt. – “You left unattended.” – he answered making it clear to you. It made you scoff loud. – “You must’ve gotten an honour for observance.” – you mocked turning your head away from you. Criston grabbed you by your elbow a bit rudely. Turning you back to him.

“You do not leave unattended!” – he made clear, raising his voice a bit. – “Scared I’ll run?” – you replied with a teasing smile. – “Did I make myself clear?” – Criston called out pulling at your arm once more. You stared right back at him with your intriguing lavender eyes.

“Sir Criston, am I royalty?” – you asked him. – “Of course.” – he answered mesmerized by your gaze. – “Then stop bossing me around.” – you made clear giving him a little shove. Walking off, Criston kept staring at you. As you slowly started to attract him. Making him curl up a shy smile.

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Sir Criston Cole entered the room, having searched everywhere for you. With a sigh of relief, he was glad to finally have found you. Asleep that was. With your head down on the table, a book underneath it. He approached you, nudging your shoulder to wake you. – “Princess.” – he said. – “Princess… Y/n wake up.” – he started to nudge you harder. – “Wake up Y/n.” – he said a bit louder.

You shot awake, hand shooting out as it him right in his nose. Criston groaned in pain, stumbling back. You got up apologizing. – “Oh sorry I thought you were someone else.” – you said until you could clearly see it was Criston. – “Oh it’s you, well that’s alright than.” – you continued with sass. Criston glared at you for the perhaps deliberate punch to the nose. Stretching out, you got up.

You saw him still cover up his nose, recovering from your little stomp. – “Oh please.” – you called out with a roll of your eyes. – “You hit me in the nose!” – Criston answered loudly. – “You’re a knight.” – you mocked that he should be used to it. Criston glared your way, as your attitude hadn’t changed over the years. – “The tournament, Y/n.” – Criston said changing the subject.

“Right.” – you answered with a sigh. Criston came by your side, walking out with you. – “Aren’t you participating this year Criston?” – you asked not with the intention to be curious. – “Yes.” – he answered. – “Then you’ll get used being hit in the nose.” – you teased with a laugh. Criston laughed mockingly loud to make clear your joke wasn’t even funny.

Getting outside, you let Criston guide you to the box. Rhaenyra already sitting down. – “Criston!” – she called out, waving her handkerchief around. She threw it at him as it fell down in the dirt at his feet. He bend down to pick it up as you left his side, coming to sit by your sister.

When Criston looked back up, he was surprised to see you gone. Looking up at the seats, he saw you sit by your sister. Criston took his leave to prepare. Rhaenyra and you were chatting a bit till the tournament began. You watched several men joist. Not nearly as amusing as you liked it to be.

Then came the one on one combat. There were two men fighting as Sir Criston and another were up next. – “Criston!” – Rhaenyra called out to him. Criston neared the box you sat, looking up as his gaze fixated on you. The other contender joined his side, looking over at you as well. – “Y/n Targaryen!” – he called out making Criston look at him. – “May I receive your blessings? A kiss from you will still my beating heart and give me strength enough to win this tournament for you.” – he said moving his hand out to you.

Rhaenyra tapped your knee enthusiastically at the attention you were getting. Criston clenched his jaw with tension. Clenching his hand into a fist. – “Fairest Targaryen, may I drown in your lavender eyes and hold your tender hands in his. This battle shall be in devotion to you.” – he continued as you stared in shock at him. – “Go on give him a kiss.” – Rhaenyra teased, pushing you to do so.

She practically shoved you out of your seat. Sighing loud, you knew she wouldn’t stop pestering you about it. You got up, making your way down to the edge of the box. Sir Criston staring hard at you, eyes widening at what you were about to do.

You tapped your finger against your cheek to let the knight know what to do. The knight turned his cheek towards you. You grabbed a hold of the frame in front of you, leaning closer to give the knight a kiss on the cheek. Sir Criston staring at it with disgust and jealousy. Rhaenyra cheered loudly from her seat, getting up to clap. You felt a bit foolish as the knight pressed his hand against his cheek.

Your gaze fell upon Criston, seeing how angered he was. Clearly fighting off demons inside of him. A battle you weren’t sure which side would win. A horn got blown as it announced the start of the next battle. You returned to your seat watching the next round. Sir Criston and the other knight you had given a kiss on the cheek.

Sir Criston sniffed loud, looking up to the seating where you sat. Smiling a bit that you dared to taunt him so much with this. With showing affection to anyone. The knight readied himself as Criston drew his sword. He called it out, running up to the man to let out all his anger and jealousy out. He was brutal and hard. Hardly leaving the knight room to breathe.

Rhaenyra stared in shock at him. Criston kept slashing his sword down on the knight’s shield. He lost balance, falling down as Criston got on him. Punching him a few times, making sure to hit the cheek you kissed. Wanting to wipe your sweet lips off him. Criston was a savage, rampaging. He wasn’t going to stop till there was death. – “Criston!” – you shouted loud, seeing that the knight below was barely giving any reaction.

“Enough!” – you made clear wanting him to stop. Criston stopped, his knuckles full with blood as it hovered over the knight’s face. The knight sputtered out some blood as Criston got off him. Claiming his victory. Having enough of this manly show-off, you got up, leaving the seats. Criston cleaned his hand, noticing you take your leave.

Without another thought, he went after you, going away from the tournament. – “Y/n!” – he called out catching up with you. He grabbed you by your shoulder, turning you to him to push you up against a tree. When your back hit the bark, you let out a gasp.

“Don’t do this to me Y/n.” – he spoke keeping his hands on your waist. – “Do what.” – you teased him making him smirk. – “Kiss another man in front of me.” – he replied grabbing you forcefully by your chin. Tilting your head a bit back as he stared firm at your eyes. It made you weak on your knees by the way he was staring hungrily at you. Criston took a step closer to you, nearing you more.

He let his thumb go down your lip, parting your lips by pressing on your under lip. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest as your cheeks flushed with heat. – “Criston…” – you whispered as he tilted your chin aside, kissing your jawline. His touch send a warmth over you like a tidal wave. He went down, kissing you in your neck.

It made you wrap your arms around him, scratching faintly his back. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted anyways. He wanted you to be his. So he simply claimed you as his even though he wasn’t allowed. Criston’s gaze met up with yours, staring fiercely back at you.

Then he smacked his lips on yours. Kissing you roughly. He immediately felt you kiss him back, diving with him into the intimacy. Criston started kissing you harder, quicker. Panting with each grasp for breath between kisses. For you were his, and his alone.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

562 notes · View notes

muzansfangs · 1 year ago

Note

Byakuya, Ichigo, and grimmjow finding f! Reader naked?

They accidentally see you naked.

Starring: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x f!reader; Ichigo Kurosaki x f!reader; Byakuya Kuchiki x f!reader;

Format: short imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, Ichigo is aged up and around his twenties, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, nipple play, implied sexual tension on previous encounters, f!reader, unprotected sex, horny thoughts, language, fluff, rough sex, biting, suggestive themes, mention to kidnapping in Grimmjow’s part, shower sex;

Plot: what happens when you are naked and they accidentally walk on you, catching a full glimpse of your bare body in all its glory? Hormones cannot always be contained.

PART ONE | PART TWO.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

Two weeks. You had been stuck in Las Noches for two weeks now. Not only you missed your family, your friends and your house, but you were frustrated over the fact that, apparently, you had been kidnapped only because you were Ichigo’s adoptive and older sister and Grimmjow wanted to irk his rival. Unfortunately for him, you had an attitude.

The day Grimmjow and Ulquiorra dragged you to Hueco Mundo, you were minding your business. It was such a serene night in Karakura Town and you had suggested to buy a cake in the nearby patisserie for enjoying a dessert with your friends. You had not even bothered wearing something nice. You were comfortable in your ripped jeans and sneakers. However, you knew that the t-shirt you were wearing could have drawn way too many glances. Therefore, you opted for wearing a jacket over it.

Obviously, you did not make it to the cake-shop. The sting on the side of your neck you suddenly felt as you crossed the road was a clear sign that someone had other plans for you. Your vision was blurry, but you could clearly discern the cheeky grin of the Espada that loathed your brother’s guts, as he stared down at you. The hot Espada, right. But that was a detail you were going to ignore for the time being.

You fainted several seconds after the impact, only to wake up in front of Aizen’s throne and find out to be the center of the attention of Hollows around you. The show was about to begin, though. As you started yelling at everyone how much you wished they all could explode like balloons in front of your eyes, Aizen simply ordered to give you a uniform and elegantly left the room. That decision was the cherry on top. Ulquiorra did not waste any precious time and handed you a white dress that matched the style of this ‘group of terrorists’, as you kept on calling them, but you scoffed and refused to wear it.

Grimmjow was not having it and thought and trying to unzip your jacket was a good idea. As you swatted his hands away, you had to eventually give up when he pinned your wrists above your head, as your back was pressed against the wall. The sneaky grin on his face, though, dropped as soon as the blue words printed on your white t-shirt came to his vision.

‘Blowjobs are jobs too’.

Your cheeks flushed up and Grimmjow let go of you in shock. But from that day he started to see you under a different light. You had always been pretty and he hated to admit how many times he had found himself fantasizing about how his hands could perfectly squeeze your ass as you bounced up and down on his shaft. He could not control himself and his lust for you grew with every argument you had.

The fact that you were a Kurosaki, even if you did not share Ichigo’s blood, made the whole deed even better. What a way to get back at his rival, if he could dig his claws into your flesh.

On the other hand, you were not indifferent to Grimmjow’s sharp features and abs. You hated to admit that he literally was your type and that you had wet dreams about him more than once. Getting to see him everyday in Las Noches was now driving you mad. You were glad Aizen had at least given you a chamber with a private bathroom. You had to admit that you allowed your mind to wonder and your hand to wander under the shower. His sharp canines, they did numbers on your mind and wished you could feel the way they grazed over your jugular. Just once, no one had to know about that.

Now, you easily got bored in the huge castle you were stuck in. You therefore asked Aizen if you could paint some parts of the walls in the hall that had cracked throughout the time. The stoic man had hesitantly agreed and now you were trying to keep yourself busy by painting over the ruined portions of walls in front of you. You were trying to balance yourself on the wooden ladder set against the wall, with a bucket of white paint in your hand and the brush in the other.

You knew you should have asked Ulquiorra to watch over you, but you were confident about your skills. Additionally, you had probably underestimated the presence of Grimmjow a few feet away from you.

“Tsk, what the hell are you doing up there? Do you want to break your neck?” his hoarse voice pierced your ears, making you roll your eyes in annoyance. There he was, ready to taunt you.

You sighed and tried to keep your balance as you gave him a flat reply, your tone almost apathetic at this point “Why do you care? Mind your business”.

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, his trademark smirk plastered over his face as her let his eyes scrutinize the way the tight skirt of your dress emphasized the curve of ass. A delicious meal for him.

“Nah, if you die, I’d lose my plaything. Come on, let me help you” he teased you, hoping to get a reaction from you.

Oh, boy, he definitely did.

Your upper lip twitched, your grip on the brush tightening significantly as you tried not to slip from the creaking rung of that stupid ladder “Excuse me?!” you practically hissed, dipping your head down to glare at him.

Grimmjow grinned and arched his eyebrow at you “You heard me. Get your ass down here, plaything”.

You knew you should have asked Ulquiorra to help you and now, as you scoffed in indignation, ready to fire back an insult at him, you realized that you were screwed up. You never got to yell at Grimmjow, no. A strained scream left your mouth, as the sound of the thin wooden plank under your feet snapping pierced your ears. You did not see that coming for sure and so you fell. Loosening your grip on the brush and the bucket, you squeezed your eyes shut for inevitable impact with the floor. An impact that neve came as you felt two strong arms embrace you and yank you towards a toned chest.

You hesitantly opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape as you tried to steady your breath, when the bucket ended up pouring its content all over you two. You would have loved to to thank Grimmjow, but the first you did as you felt the paint stick on your hair, naked portions of skin and dress was cussing.

“Fuck!” you groaned, as Grimmjow snorted too and let you back down on the floor. Obviously, he had been a victim of the falling bucket as well. Some paint covered his messy hair and part of his chest and uniform.

Seeing him like this, in addition to the fact that he had saved your life, made you crack up a smile and shake your head softly. You two were a mess.

“Don’t you fucking dare to say anything! Let’s get this shitty paint off of us before it dries!” he grumbled, wrapping his hand around your wrist and marching towards your room. You quirked your eyebrows up, wondering why he was leading you back to your room. You did not have spare clothes for him, just a bathroom and, if he thought you were going to strip in front of him, he was clearly wrong.

As he opened the door of your room and let you in, he took off his jacket and threw it on the floor, his hands already reaching down to unbuckle his belt, as you finally squealed out in shock and turned your back at him.

“Grimmjow, what the hell are you doing! Don’t you dare undress in front of me!” you quipped, clasping your hand over your mouth. That was so embarrassing and you could feel cold sweat collecting in the back of your neck.

“What’s up now? Never seen a cock?” he sassed, dropping his pants down and walking to the bathroom naked. Your blood ran cold and you did your best not to turn around. He had never acted like that. This time you found yourself speechless and you could not even send him to hell.

As you heard him turn the shower on, you sighed and grabbed a towel from a drawer. You hastily undress yourself and wrapped the pink item around your naked body. You waited for him to get out ot the shower, confident that he had not seen a single glimpse of your body. But you were wrong.

The panther boy accidentally saw your naked ass through the mirror in your bathroom. The open door had granted it the full view of the bedroom and now he was practically growling in the cubicle with a painful boner. No, it was enough. This time you were going to take care of the problem you had caused.

Grimmjow stormed out of the bathroom, not caring about covering himself and making you gawk at the scenery before your eyes. He tugged your towel away and kissed you passionately, not giving you time to process what is was happening. You barely did, in fact. Your brain slowly started to process what your own body was doing, when you found yourself into the shower with Grimmjow’s fingere buried into your core.

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly and as he bit onto the crook of your neck, thrusting his fingers into you, you moaned softly and closed your eyes in bliss.

“What happens in Las Noches stays in Las Noches” he purred in your ear, only to receive your sassy reply.

“It was Las Vegas, you ignorant cat” you breathed out, before he involved you into a fervent kiss that made your inner walls clench around his fingers.

‘Sorry Ichigo. I could not resist’ was your last thought before you reached your climax.

Ichigo Kurosaki.

Being Urahara’s adoptive daughter was a privilege. Life was great, really, but since your father had started training Ichigo Kurosaki and his friends things were messy. You had no time to rest and practically zero privacy. Your house and shop had been opened to Soul Reapers and humans, coming over to ask for help at any hour of the day. Including night, obviously.

Despite that, you had bonded with the entire group of ‘heroes wannabe’, as you teasingly addressed them.

Yet, there was one out of them that had caught your eye and it was not just for his appearence. Ichigo Kurosaki, the invincible guy that had rescued Rukia Kuchiki and was now trying to take down Aizen, was living rent free in your mind. More than once, while you watched your father teach him new strategies and help him improve his skills, you had found yourself staring intently at the way his muscular arms flexed every time he unsheathed his sword.

You had carved in your mind the way his t-shirt emphasized the outline of his abs and you had to avert your eyes from him, when droplets of sweat made his body glisten. Your mind was wild, you imagined too many things for your own good.

You often laid in your bed, eyes closed, back arching for waves of pleasure, at the thought of his sweaty face hovering over yours as he thrusted into you. You wanted him, you wanted him more than anything else on this Earth. You wished to see the sweat beading his forehead up close, you wanted that sweat to scream your name. Things were heated, whenever your father ordered you to help him train.

A hand to hand fight was probably going to be the cause of your death, one day or another. Sometimes, as you fought, you ended up rolling onto the ground. His hot body against yours and those flames blazing in his eyes got you weak on your knees.

Once, you had ended up topping him. Your hand way laying flat onto his chest, as you straddled him. You were both sweaty, panting, your clothed intimacies pressed down against one another. In that very moment, as you tried to stand up and shifted your position, he groaned softly. You did not fail to notice the way his cheeks flushed, or feel how something was twitching underneath the fabric of his trousers.

That had happened a week ago and, since then, you were avoiding meeting him around your father’s shop. You were too embarrassed at the thought that you had practically felt his boner like that.

Now, that infamous morning, you were relaxing a bit into the bathtub. Urahara and the others had left for taking care of some business out of town and you had to watch over the shop while they were gone. However, you were too tired and stressed out to deny yourself some self-indulgent pleasure.

Some bubbles were floating in the air as you let the warm water and soap envelope your naked frame and you did not hear at all the door of the bathroom creak open. When you heard your phone buzz, you raised up in the tub, your naked back and ass in full display as you reached for your device.

But Ichigo’s eyes, oh dear, they went wide as he ended up toppling over a vase, as he stumbled into the bathroom. You were a vision, the emblem of perfection, and he clasped his hand over his mouth in shock, as the sound of the object shattering on the floor made you both flinch.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” he fretted, panicking as he tried to cover his eyes.

You, on the other hand, had dropped your phone on the floor too and had hastily slided back into the tub to hide your naked form from him. It was such a pleasurable nightmare!

“Ichigo! What the hell are you doing here?!” you blurted out, hoping a supermassive black hole could suck you in right on the spot.

“I was searching for Urahara!” he defended himself, turning his back at you and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“In the bathroom?!”.

“Oh shut up! I needed to use the bathroom too!” he snapped back, not knowing what to say anymore.

There was no way out from the carousel of shame and awkwardness, therefore you took the matter in your hands and quickly grasped a towel, hopping out of the shower and wrapping it around your body. You needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

As your shoulder brushed against his, though, Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut for a second before pinning you against the wall and kissing you out of the blue. You inhaled sharply, not expecting it, but, as soon as you collected yourself from the shock, you kissed him back and tangled your fingers through his spiky orange hair.

It was a kiss full of hunger, just like his hand, slipping underneath your towel and searching for your folds. You moaned softly against his lips, raving into the longed sensation you were finally experiencing.

“Let’s hope your father doesn’t come home earlier now” he rasped, plunging his fingers into your core as you lolled your head back against the wall in pleasure.

“If he does, I’ll tell Aizen how to fucking use that stupid device at his full potential” you joked, smiling against his lips.

Thinking about it now, you were so glad your father had messed up your lives with Ichigo’s group of friends.

Byakuya Kuchiki.

Drenched in sweat, you were running up to the Kuchiki Estate. Training under the scorching sun for hours had truly drained you. Yet, you were determined to get stronger and help to fight Aizen and his crew of Arrancar. When Rukia had suggested to Orihime to visit the Soul Society and spend some days together to hone her abilities, you had decided to join them.

It was your chance to put yourself to the test and, actually, even an excuse to see the new friends you had made in the Seireitei. However, you had to be honest to yourself and admit that there was one special person you wanted to see again. You had hated his guts, when you first met. It was a miracle that he had not slashed your chest open too when you tried to prevent Rukia’s return to the Soul Society. Yet, things had changed.

Byakuya Kuchiki was not only a cold-hearted, stoic and sophisticated man. He was much more than that and you had started to see it too.

He was not much of a talker, but he was handsome as hell and he had even offered you his help in trying to become a better Sobstitute Shinigami. You naturally found it odd, but you were in no position to refuse his help. However, the recent events had forced you to part ways again and you had missed him too much not to come back to the Soul Society and see him again.

Throughout your permanence, Rukia was allowing you to sleep over at the Kuchiki Estate but, much to your dismay, you never crossed paths with him. Not even once. It was horribly ironic, but you were partially glad he could not hear your soft moans in the dead of the night, when you touched yourself thinking about him and how his hands rested on your hips when he adjusted your position during a training session.

You missed his touch, his cologne, the way his chest grazed over your head when you were that close. Whenever he scolded you for being too distracted, you had to bite on your tongue not to blurt out that it was his fault. Your close proximity truly made your grip on your katana falter. He was messing with your head in a way you could not fully comprehend and you wondered if he was conscious of the way he affected you.

Now, as you stormed into the room Rukia let you sleep in, you quickly started taking off your uniform. You craved a shower and some fresh clothes more than anything right now. You dropped your pants to the floor and you quickly took off your shirt as well, as you already imagined the way the hot water would have made your aching muscles relax.

But as you finally reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, someone had returned to his Estate. His feather-like steps could not be heard at all and you simply discarded your bra too, sighing in relief as your breasts were free from any restriction. You were still humming in satisfaction with your eyes closed, when the door of your room slided up and a gasp of shock left Byakuya’s lips.

He was for some reason unable to move, his eyes locked on the curve of your breasts, staring at your nipples as if he was admiring some greek statute of a goddess. He cursed himself for his lack of decency and he felt mortified as you opened back your eyes and you met his gaze.

“Byakuya!” you squeaked out, cheeks heating up in shame as you grasped your shirt anf tried to cover your upper body from his eyes. Honestly, you had never felt that ashamed in your whole life.

The Captain of the Sixth Division cleared his throat and averted his eyes from you, his body clearly reacting to the vision he had just been blessed with. He could not pretend he had not seen you like that and, obviously, you would have never forgotten such an indecent accident. There were plenty of things he could say, but just one thing he wanted to do.

He slowly darted his eyes back on your frame, his lips slightly parted as he walked up to you. With every step he took towards you, your heart skipped a beat and your legs quivered. You could not read his mind, but his body language was pretty clear at this point.

His hand gently grasped your wrist, inviting you to loosen your grip on the shirt impeding him to admire your chest and, under the spell of his touch, you obliged his request. As the item fell at your feet, Byakuya grasped your chin and made sure you kept the eye-contact with him as he gently captured your lips with his ones.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as, standing on your toes to reach his lips better, you returned the kiss with equal hunger and gentleness. His hands, however, were already exploring your body.

The Captain definitely knew what he was doing as he took your nipple between his index and thumb, pinching it softly and massaging it with a mastery of a man that had been married and knew how to please a woman.

As the first moans were elicited from you, Byakuya stroked your cheek with his free hand and let you lay down on the futon underneath him “Please, allow me to have you. I promise I’ll make sure you are comfortable with me” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

And that, my dear, was an oath he stack up to through the rest of the evening.

TAGS: @byakuyawifey

#grimmjow smut #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow headcanons #grimmjow x you #grimmjow x y/n #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #byakuya x you #byakuya x reader #byakuya smut #byakuya kuchiki x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #ichigo x reader #ichigo x you #ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo x y/n #kurosaki ichigo x reader #bleach x reader

3K notes · View notes

candyswirls · 2 months ago

Text

Space Marine Cuddle Pile Pt 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Writing Master post

Cuddly boys are back! Come join in the pile!

@lazywriter-artist @wolf-feathers12

Imagine:

A chaplain sitting on the floor. One Astartes leaning against him. Another rests their head on his lap. A third rests again the Chaplains back. He has his arms around the two marines he can reach. They witnessed their brother torn apart by daemons then be possessed. They had to grant him the Emperor’s mercy. It is the chaplain’s job to comfort and guide them.

A very disgruntled Ad Mech. They’d been warned. Several times. They’re drinking. Don’t go in there. You won’t be able to do any work. Yet they brushed it off. Now they were pinned against a Space Wolf’s chest, the arm of one and the leg of another on top of them. They all drooled snd snored loudly as they curled up with one another. The Ad Mech was stuck there for a bit. They would not be finishing their tasks anytime soon. The one whose chest they were on wrapped his arms around them and sleepily nuzzled their head.

A Sanguinary Priest holding onto a blood Angel that experienced the Red Thirst for the first time. Comforting the battle brother as he cries for the terror of it or if he caused any casualties.

A Drukhari is absolutely mortified. What they initially thought was an attack was not. They stand there, stiff as a board and utterly confused and not sure if they should be disgusted or not. The warband of chaos marines they had been with suddenly surrounded them then plopped themselves on the floor and wrapped their arms around each other. Drukhari in the middle. Is… is this some new… kind of torture? Psychological warfare?? It’s so warm and they seem.. happy?? These are the same marines they had flailed people with not even hours earlier and now they were doing… this.

The Lion and Guilliman have just reunited. There’s been official ceremony between both of their legions. Speaking to inquisitors and imperial high lords. Then the paperwork. Throne the paperwork. Then a feast. It’s been so much but now… it’s just the two of them. The only moment they’ve had since finding each other again. There’s so many unspoken emotions. Both positive and negative. The two brothers stare at each other, weary of what the other will do. Yet there is relief. Relief of no longer being alone. Neither can seem to find the words so they go off of instinct. The longing to embrace and be embraced. The two hug, standing in silence. There’s nothing that action can’t speak for in this moment. Resting heads against each other, arms tight and fully encompassing the other. The imperium was slowly rebuilding. There were so many enemies. But it was okay. They weren’t alone. They were brothers. They’d support each other.

Every so often an “unlucky” custodian ends up surround by imperial fists. There’s no cause for alarm or defensive stance though. The Custodian just sighs and allows the Fists to lead them to where they’ve strategically set up various blankets, pillows, mattresses, and tapestries. Armor racks await near it to be used. All remove their armor and snuggle up close to the Custodian. Custodes are bigger than Space Marines. Being held by one feels safe and a bit like being held by a Primarch. It doesn’t happen too often and there’s always at least one custodian who will oblige. Plus, holding marines like babies is cute to them. The Sisters of Silence said so.

The invasion had been stopped. Carnage of tyranids lay everywhere. There’s one lone space marine that is in your village. Cut off from their squad as they defended you and your people. He waits patiently for his brothers to find him. You go up and place an arm over his, wishing to comfort him. This is what led to him lying on the ground with as many villagers he can hold. Since he saved you, you decide not to question it.

The Ravenguard have a set room for cuddle piles. It’s lovingly referred to as the nest. The softest blankets and pillows possible. Shiny objects decorate the walls and floor. It’s very well taken care of. No armor allowed in to prevent crushing anything or tearing fabric. You better have cleaned yourself up and gotten all that grime off of you before you step in. The chaplain is watching. It seems small but so many ravenguard can fit in there like sardines in a can. Curled up in blankets and around each other. Don’t tell Kayvaan but some marines have actually forgotten where their room is because they always sleep in here.

The Emperor claimed he had no regrets. But now he most certainly had one. He lay there, dying and fading away. Sanguinius’s body is off to one side and the body of Horus to the other. He thinks back to the vow he made. He wouldn’t get attached to his sons. It caused weakness. He would not hug or embrace them. This was too important. Yet now his heart ached. He wished he could have held them all at once in his arms when they were babies. To have greeted them with an embrace. Call them all to his room and roost around his bed as he held them. He wished he had. At least once. Especially the ones now dead. Two and eleven included. He had no strength left. He couldn’t crawl to the two bodies near him and hold them. After all, he was a cuddly man by nature. The Astartes and primarchs all got it from somewhere.

Even after turning to chaos, Fulgrim had days where memories and emotions overwhelmed him. Sending him into deep melancholy. It was these days that N’Kari would wrap themselves around him and clasp their arms around him. Have him surrounded by soft warmth. Some days he just wanted to be held.

A few orks once spotted a space marine cuddle pile. It must be some sort of strategy or trick. It seemed to make those beaky gits fight better. They don’t know its purpose or what it’s for but they attempt their own cuddle pile. The biggest lays down first then the others and finally the gobbos. It’s silent for a few moments as they try to figure out what it does. One snorts and struggles to hold in laughter. It’s followed by snickering and hushing. It’s another that breaks first. It’s now just a big pile of laughing and giggling shrooms.

180 notes · View notes

luceafarul-de-dimineata · 9 months ago

Note

a noble runs into MC and the nobody devil while they’re on a date and MC introduces them to each other when confronted…

didn’t mean to annoy you by being clumsy and sending 3 asks in a row. apologies🤦

It'a fine, pussy, my imbox is empty, so there's no tragedy in giving the same request multiple times. For my sake, I'll just name the demon Marian, but you can imagine anything else instead.

Whb nobles seeing MC with another devil

Zagan

He was just going on his morning jog when he spotted you and Marian

Everyone in Gehenna knows everyone else in Gehenna, so don't be surprised that they know eachother.

Zagan would be kind of shy when getting closer to you and nod at the two of you

"Oh, hi Zagan! This is Marian, my boyfriend."

His face doesn't change much but you can tell that the realisation struck him

He shakes Marian's hand and leaves.

You should be thankful it was him that found you two and not someone more... aggressive

Astaroth

He's stuck

On one hand, this is such an amazing love story plot.

The child of Solomon, the human that could have them all settles with a nobody.

They are everything and he's just Marian

The drama, the romance, the tragedy that could spur out of something like this

He's all for it

But on the other hand, really?

You have all the kings drooling after you, all the nobles lining up to make a carpet out of their bodies so you won't have to step on dirt, and you choose... Marian?

Humans trully are fascinating creatures

He doesn't say anything when he sees the two of you, just hiding behind a corner and observing. He's really invested now, be ready to find his newly published novel about a queen falling for a layman on your nightstand

Bimet

He audibly gasps

He is revolted, he is insulted, he is disgusted

How fucking dare you

He doesn't know who that demon is, nor does he care

He would power walk between you two and look only into your eyes.

"MC, I didn't think I would find you! Who's the accessory you have with you? What's his purpose and when will he expire?"

"That's my boyfriend Marian."

"Hahaha, you're soooo funny! You're already dating Mammon. Do you really need something as... insignificant as this devil?"

You start arguing with Bimet until he just picks Marian up and takes you to the royal quert.

When Mammon gives the verdict that you can date anyone you want, Bimet's entire attitute changes.

He congratulates you for finding such a handsome devil and wishes you both ferwell.

Glasylabolas

Oh ho ho ho, now this, this is interesting

He's gonna have the time of his life with this one

First, he takes pictures of you two on the date, holding hands, hugging, any physical contact works

Then he makes his presence known

He's a lot more cheerful than usual and he eggs both of you on.

He acts like you two being together was his OTP all along, talking about how you two are just made for eachother

"Oh, but MC, why haven't you told his majesty Leviathan about your blooming relationship with this young fella? Should I do the honorifics myself?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, he just summons his coffin and teleports to Leviathan's throne room to tell him the gossip.

Seeing you and your boyfriend hanging put a smile on his face

Next time, try not to get caught

Stolas

He just shoots the guy

No warning, no anything

He doesn't want to hear your complaints

A vermin was touching the child of Solomon in a romantic manner

Avisos' one law is to not steal someone else's partner

And you're clearly dating Beelzebub, so Stolas was just enforcing the law

You had to rush your boyfriend to Paradise Lost to get treatment, but Stolas won't apologise

You have to explain to him step by step that 1. You're not dating Beelzebub and 2. You chose to date Marian because you genuinly love him

It takes him a while to process, and he still has doupts, but he'll pay for the treatment of your boyfriend

Ronové

You don't see or hear him coming, you just feel his arms snake around your neck

He congratules you for getting a boyfriend and shakes the devils hand.

He's actually very chill about the whole ordeal, but he seems weirdly fascinated about the other demon's sex life

He really doesn't want the child of Solomon to get sexually frustrated

He would offer to show him how its done, but you slapped Ronové before you could finish

He just chuckles and hands the devil a business card

Before he leaves, he whispers in your ear "if he doesn't treat you well, chop his dick off. Or better, ask me to do it."

Andrealphus

At least it's not an angel

When Andrealphus walk closer to the two of you, your date starts shaking in fear

Andrealphus just smiles and hugs you since he hasn't seen you in a while (insert blind joke here)

He smiles at your date, which doesn't help make him look less intimidating

As long as that devil doesn't pose a threat to you, he's fine with letting you date whoever you want

Your date might faint after Andrealphus leaves, but you both are glad that nobody got murdered.

Buer

He's confused and a bit offended

I mean, Lucifer is right there

It kind of reminds him of that story Lucifer once told him about his younger self. How he fell in love with a human princess but the princess chose some random dude instead of him and he got depressed.

He doesn't want that to happen again so he probably would move you and your new sweetheart to different sides of the hospital

If you try to comfront him about it he's just like "You are under my care and he's under Marbas' care, there's no reason for him to be in the same wing as you"

He wants to break you two off, but not directly. So he just hopes that the physical distance between you and your boyfriend would make the relationship deteriorate by itself.

Would probably stop only if Lucifer tells him to knock it off

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb x reader #whb zagan #whb astaroth #whb bimet #whb glasyalabolas #whb stolas #whb ronové #whb andrealphus #whb buer

205 notes · View notes

reyababyy · 9 months ago

Text

Unearthly Love

Pairing: Za'stah (Male yautja) x Fem human reader

Summary: On your way home from school you never imagined you’d be kidnapped by an alien.

Word count: 422

A/N: First time writing for yautja so I hope I did alright. -repost from my old acc-

It all happened so fast, one minute you were walking home from school and the next you were tossed into a cage by this alien creature and taken onboard a spaceship.

Your captor barely even spared you a glace, for the whole duration of the trip you were stuck in the stupid cage with no food or water.

Once the ship did land one of the creatures walked over to the cage unlocking it before grabbing your arm harshly dragging you out. “Ow! That hurts asshole!” You shouted at it.

The yautja ignored you dragging you once more off the ship towards the palace. There was no point in fighting, the brute was much taller and stronger than you, not to mention the sharp claws.

Looking around all you saw was endless desert along with lots of homes scattering the area. In the middle of everything stood a grand palace with spaceships flying overhead.

Although the air was somehow breathable for you it felt hard to breath from how hot and humid it was. Passing by homes you could feel eyes on you, almost as if they were judging you or trying to see if you were a threat.

Once making it to the palace the yautja clicked something to the guards there, they looked at you before opening the doors allowing you and your captor entry.

Walking inside your eyes widened, the walls were lined with skulls and other decor you’d consider weird having on earth.

Your captor led you down a hallway till you reached what looked like a throne room, there were two large chairs inside with one being empty and one seating another of the large creature.

The seated yautja clicked its mandibles talking to your captor, said captor eventually let you go shoving you forward towards the other one before turning and leaving.

“Fucking jerk” you spat before giving your full attention to the creature infront of you, unlike your captor he did not have a mask. You had a clear view of his face, one that most people would be frightened of.

The yautja moved his arm infront of him clicking the object on his arm before speaking “Welcome little ooman.” His voice was rough as he stared at your small frame.

Sensing your nervousness the yautja began with introducing himself as Za'stah, an elder yautja. He then started explaining how you were brought here for an upcoming hunt along with other humans.

If you survived you’d be let go, if not well, you already know.

#yautja x reader #yautja x human #predator #za’stah #predator x human #predator x reader #comments really appreciated #please like and reblog #follow my blog

137 notes · View notes

kymsys · 7 months ago

Note

(okay i was going about my day yesterday but i really couldn't get the merman au out of my head😭😭 i just imagine for a while somehow geto managed to sneak satoru into the palace and then it's a whole ordeal trying to hide him. panicked geto and oblivious gojo and really for all that image is stuck in my head i still have yet to write a proper interaction w them but!! it's not proofread so sorry if there are mistakes and it's a bit scattered but i had to get this one scene out that was brewing in my mind so🥺 ignore this if you want❗️❗️)

From the mezzanine, everyone looked like ants. Suguru had to squint to make out familiar faces in the crowd, and even then, the only person he could identify was a distant aunt of his that he had never really liked. Usually, he'd have been able to pick apart anyone of significance; he'd have known their name, their title, their interests.

Suguru would've known, he always memorises the details before public events — he spends days in his room at a time, talking into the mirror and telling his reflection things about these people who he has never met. Perhaps, lately, he'd been busy with Satoru.

Suguru smiled. He didn't feel as guilty as he thought he would.

A hand clapped on his back, and he jolted. Shoko beside him, cocking a brow. “What's got you looking like a dumbass?” Her voice was flat, eyes busy scanning the crowd and Suguru knew who she was looking for.

He cleared his throat. He couldn't really tell her that he was keeping a siren in the little pond in his private garden — well, it wasn't exactly little, but that information held no relevance anyway. Shoko was his dear friend, and he knew she would always support him, but he had to keep Satoru a secret, more for her sake. Suguru bit his lip in thought. If only Satoru didn't have such a strong taste for human flesh.

“Is meat more nutritious than fish?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” Suguru winced at the look he was being sent. He didn't mean to blurt the question out, but he'd been thinking about it for days. The salmon that he'd been feeding Satoru probably wasn't enough to sustain a creature his size — especially when he was so active — which would mean he burnt through a lot of calories very quickly. “Utahime is on the balcony,” Suguru pointed in the general direction, giving Shoko a pat on the shoulder, “good luck.”

From his peripheral vision, he could see Shoko roll her eyes as he walked away, but she muttered a small 'thanks' before she turned to find the other woman. He was glad she finally had someone to open up to other than him — he saw how happy Shoko was with Utahime, and with the burden of inheriting the throne giving her sleepless nights, it was all Suguru could want for his closest friend.

He turned his attention back to the winding flight of stairs before him. Now, to find some meat.

KINGGGGGGGGGGGG (can i call you like that??)!!!! ♥ GAHHH IM SO HONOURED AND HAPPY, you actually wrote MORE??? bless you, this is truely amazing, this has me by my throat. thank you so fucking much, i love it!! <3 WHY THE FUCK WOULD I EVER IGNORE THIS, are u out of your mind. i LOVEEEE the way suguru keeps thinking about his little "pet" gojo and what would probably be the best food for him! like indeed he is a massive creature, he will probably need...a lot?? but also at the same time i can imagine that he is maybe not that....needy. isnt that a thing with lots of sharks or deep sea fish that they eat very little, just because its so hard to get by food? so their organism is evolved to survive on very little food and thrive nonetheless. MAYBE suguru just thinks gojo is in need of lots of food, but actually gojo just likes to eat bc he enjoys the food, but doesnt neccessarily need it?(he is also a mystical creature, so in that sense anything is possible really xD) I ALSO LOVE HOW SUGURU JUST RANDOMLY ASKS SHOKO ABOUT NUTRITIONS AND SHOKO IS JUST LIKE WHAT, i adore that ; u ; <3 AND OMG gojo lives in a pond in his private garden??? HOW CUTE!! so that makes me wonder (pls indulge with me) why would he bring this technically "monster" into his home? generally i would think maybe that a creature like that needs its space and would need their freedom? so MAYBEEEEE smth has happened? maybe gojo got hurt, maybe even when he was caught in the fishernet situation? MAYBE suguru needs to take care of him until he gets better and maybe gojo, the curious creepy creature that he is, enjoys the change of environment and the new feeling of being cared for?? its exciting for both! what do you think ?? 👉👈 maybe you had a different idea?? im so excited to hear your thoughts!! AND AGAIN THANK YOU, i love it SO much, i feel so lucky that you actually like it so much that you wanna write about it T___T ♥

EVERYONE LOOK !!!!!!!!

#fuuuuuuuuuuuck #this is so good #im blessed #thank you #kingdomofred #merman au #merman au lives #jjk #stsg #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen

80 notes · View notes

tellmeallaboutit · 7 months ago

Text

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 5, In Which You Turn Out To be Capable of More Than You Thought

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Part 2)

AO3

You had the sweetest dreams.

You lived in a beautiful mansion in a world where capitalism had fallen (which did not prevent you from living in a mansion), you no longer had to work (well, because capitalism had obviously fallen) and, most importantly, you became Raphael's one and only dark consort (you were not sure how capitalism fit into this narrative), whom he cherished and loved more than anyone, even more than the Crown above his horns.

Perched atop Raphael’s lap in the throne room, surrounded by a crowd of souls kneeling before you and begging for your mercy (including your high school bully Thomas, who once locked you up in the bathroom, and the ex who cheated on you), you suddenly heard the distinct ringtone of a Teams call. It's a sound that could never be mistaken for anything else; it could be used as a method of torture.

You made a mental note to suggest this to Raphael later on.

The call seemed downright disrespectful to your new status as the Archduchess of all Hells, so you ignored it; surprisingly, it did not stop. Thinking about how you would ask Raphael to execute whoever disturbed your bliss, you stretched out your hand to swipe the huge green button that was being projected right across the throne hall.

"Anya?" The voice on the other end was familiar, but you couldn't place it.

Your mind struggled to come to life and make sense of your surroundings.

Why were you lying naked?

What time was it?

Why did your whole body ache?

And why was there a wet patch beneath you?

To answer at least the last question, you reached down to touch the moisture between your legs, and saw thick white liquid coating your fingers in the soft morning light. You went for a sniff: smelt like a freshly burned match and salty musk.

Oh, fuck.

Okay, so Raphael wasn't big on safe sex (which probably should have been expected from someone who lived in the House of Hope). Not that you remembered asking him for protection. Not that you were able to or wanted to. The thought of him coming inside you seemed insanely hot yesterday; but now, in the clear light of day, it just seemed insane.

Don’t human women all die horribly giving birth to half-devils?

The voice on the phone called out again, "Anya, are you still there? Are you okay?"

“Yes?”, you responded hesitantly and pulled your fingers away from your nostrils.

"You're fifteen meetings late for our meeting," the voice reminded you, and you finally remembered who it belonged to.

Your supervisor. Not a bad guy, not a good guy, just a burnt out middle-aged man who never imagined himself stuck in middle management while going through a messy divorce.

"We had a meeting?" You asked, even though somewhere deep down in your foggy brain you knew very well that you did have one scheduled.

You sat down on the bed and did you best to suppress a moan: your arse was bruised raw.

“Your development talk, Anya”, your supervisor sighed. “Did you… did you just wake up? It’s fifteen past ten.”

Quick, think of a believable excuse. Your cat died? No, he knows you don't have one. Your grandmother passed? No, that would be disrespectful to her memory. You were robbed? No, then you wouldn't be sleeping so soundly...

"No, I...I didn't," you stammered, desperately trying to come up with something, anything.

"Do you want to turn your camera on?" He asked. "It helps during these talks."

No, you didn't want to turn on your camera unless you wanted to make absolutely sure he saw you stark naked - which was definitely not going to work in your favour (or maybe it would, but you didn't want to test it). You shifted on the bed (your bed made a very obvious, very loud creaking noise) and your supervisor cleared his throat.

“I am not feeling too well, sorry”, you said. “I’d rather not”.

That wasn't entirely false - between the sore arse and what felt like bite marks on various parts of your body and what the hell was that purple bruise on your thigh?

There was silence before he spoke again, "Well then...I guess we're halfway done here. Did you hear about the news?"

“The news?”, you echoed.

"You haven't checked our company website?"

Does anyone actually bother to check those?

"Mmm-hmm," You responded noncommittally.

"Okay," your supervisor sighed. "We've been acquired, and as a result, there will be some changes and layoffs."

"Oh," was all you could manage to say.

"I'm currently making a list of potential layoffs."

"Oh," you repeated, starting to understand where this conversation was going.

"Anya," he began, his tone more serious now. "I don't want to sound harsh, I have enjoyed working with you. As a friendly suggestion: it might look better on your resume if it appeared that leaving was your own decision."

Hell no, you won’t let the corpo screw you over.

“Hey, no, I want a severance package. I’ve been working for this company for three years”.

"Sure," he responded. "You are fully entitled to it. But first, we'll have to review your work activity. You know, what you did on your work computer, which websites you visited, how often you were active."

Maybe you’ll let the corpo screw you over.

“Never mind,” you surrendered. “I’ll come by today to pick up my stuff.”

“I am glad we could find a mutually beneficial decision”, your supervisor said, wished you a nice day, dropped off the call, and left you naked and pissed off.

As you got up, you felt something dripping down your legs. Wonderful, washing Raphael’s cum off the carpet sounded like the perfect start to your morning. You used your blanket to clean yourself (it would be easier to wash later) and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

On your way there, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but let out an exasperated laugh. The make-up from yesterday was still smeared on your face in dark trails, making you look like a freshly fired and thoroughly fucked racoon.

Sighing, you stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash away Raphael's seed, sweat and the remnants of yesterday's make-up. Oh, you thought as you washed it all away: maybe you should have brought some of Raphael's DNA to study in the lab. Then you would have a solid proof. They also might have found a way to breed powerful cambion super-soldiers.

Anya, why do you always have to think such bullshit? Raphael is from Dungeons & Dragons, not Warhammer.

Your bruises ached even worse under the hot water.

“You know, Raphael”, you spoke to yourself as you wrapped yourself in a towel. “I start to think there might be some issues with our relationship”.

Your phone chimed with a message.

"good morning my lovely girl," it read, instantly piquing your interest.

Oh, wow. Okay, you guys might have some issues, but he is certainly kind of sweet. You were about to pick up your phone to type something as sweet back (good morning my favorite devil?), when another notification popped up.

“Did you know your Raul is one of the richest people in the country??”

Ah, damn. Your mum seemed to be in an excellent mood - why was that?

Probably because “Raul” made it to some mightiest and greatest list.

“I hope the date went well please call love mama god bless 🙏🥰”

As soon as you got yourself dried up, you were scanning the corporate website (last time you checked it when you prepared for an interview); the acquisition news was on the front page. You hastily scanned through the article.

“…was yesterday acquired by Avernus Capital AG, Zürich. The legal aspects of the transaction were handled by the Managing Partner Raul d'Avergni…”

By whom?

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Raphael! So you can remember to get me fired but a condom slips your mind? Does he even know what those are? Has he ever needed to use one?

Ah, now you understand why he hadn’t called for the whole three days. He was working hard on fucking up your life. Screw reigning over the nine hells as the Archdevil Supreme when there's a girl who spent six months after graduation hunting this job (damn this economy) to torment.

Yes, you hated your job, but it paid the bills. Your emergency fund would cover one month expenses, tops. Raphael gave you a thousand over Twitch, that was nice, but that won’t last long either. If you buy plan B and visit a gyno, that’s one hundred less, easy. You can’t ask your mother for any help, either - she could barely make ends meet as it is.

Fine. Breathe in, breathe out. Perhaps he got you fired to offer you a better job; wasn't that what he mentioned yesterday? That’s right. Your work for me is not yet done, he said. That’s it; he has another job and needs all of your free time.

You grabbed your phone to call him to confirm; and then you realized you still did not have his number, all the times he called you (which was exactly one) it was from a no caller ID.

So much for that plan. Fine, the other way, then. You fired up BG3, the save from his Sharess Caress room.

The sight of his avatar and the inviting huge bed behind him stirred a pang of longing in you. "Hey, I miss you," you murmured to the screen, "Could you call me, please?"

“Give me the Crown that dominates the elder brain”, Raphael answered, not a line off the scripted talk.

“I already did that and now you are here. What’s the next task?”.

“A crown for a hammer, a deal of a lifetime”, Raphael ignored you and carried on with his talk with Tav.

The devil didn't toss you any curveballs, no ad-libbed lines or cheeky glances that shattered the fourth wall; just the same old scripted scenarios you'd already seen and played through. You jumped between saves, but nada. Your mum called you three or four times in the meanwhile. You shot her a short message that everything was okay (everything wasn’t), and you’ll call her later.

Next, you scrolled through the missed discord notifications, filled with images and screen caps of Raphael and other Tavs, hundreds of other Tavs, elves, tieflings, humans, a wide gallery of his bloody harem (especially the modded Durges got under your skin) from the new romance scene Larian dropped. You were very tempted to tell them all about your night with Raphael and how it was the best sex you've ever had and on an unrelated note, do all women really die if they give birth to cambions?

But then again, you’ve been called crazy enough lately. Better to delete the whole app.

Who has time to chat in discord? Definitely not people with full-time jobs.

…Right.

In the afternoon, you decide to go to your office in the center of the city to pick up the few things they still had and hand in the things you still had . Company badge, laptop, chargers; three years' work fit into a cardboard box. Your last pay cheque will arrive on Friday, they said.

Thank you for your hard work and dedication, and for making us a euro while we give you a cent and go get lost. Interviewing for them took a whole day; leaving them took half an hour.

The office was half empty; the few who were there were preparing to celebrate the grand occasion of being taken over by Avernus Capital (wouldn’t have happened without you, by the way, and you doubted that the new owner would be that nice). You mumbled a few hellos and how do you dos, but you realised (not that you ever thought otherwise) how little you cared for these people, and how little they cared for you.

The only one you really wanted to talk to you couldn't be reached.

Wait, but Raphael's office was only two underground stations away, you thought. If you can't call, maybe you can pay him a visit and congratulate him in person on his great acquisition.

Raphael's office, a multi-storey eighteenth-century building with the golden letters D'Avergni & Partners plastered all over it, looked very unwelcoming from the outside; inside it had all the warmth of a mausoleum. Dark grey walls loomed around you, somewhere between an art gallery and a prison cell. Art Deco furniture with sharp angles filled the space as floor-to-ceiling windows let in cold shards of light. You were stopped dead at the reception desk.

The receptionist's lips curved into a polite smile as you approached.

She actually seemed nice, not the snotty bombshell type usual at such kinds of places; she had a tired smile and dark bags under her make-up.

"I would like to see Raul d'Avergni," you said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

She looked at you as if you had entered a church and asked for a personal audience with God. Doubt gnawed at your resolve, but retreating now would be even more awkward.

Some young men, sipping coffee from their plastic cups next to an espresso robot, looked at you curiously through their thick-rimmed glasses.

"Good morning!" chirped the receptionist, regaining her composure. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Ugh, no..." you replied, trying to sound confident. “I'm his (what, what, what?)… his girlfriend, actually”.

Brilliant.

She arched her eyebrows slightly, looking at your "Astarion approves" badge on your rucksack, which had seen quite a bit of action in its life (the summer festivals!), then at your "nique la police" T-shirt. Yes, you didn't give much thought to what you were wearing, but then again, you weren't planning to visit Raphael when you came here.

The receptionist did her best to remain professional, but you could sense that she was very doubtful about your statement.

"I am afraid Mr. d'Avergni is in meetings all day today," she offered with an apologetic smile. "Perhaps you could try calling him if it is a private matter?"

Yeah, great idea. Your cheeks flushed as embarrassment washed over you. Of course his girlfriend would have his number.

"You do have his private number, don't you?" she continued, her smile unwavering.

Now you felt like a complete idiot. The girl was obviously too tired to make fun of you, but the stares and whispered giggles of the posh idiots behind your back were not nice.

“Sure I do," you blurted out. "Just still couldn't reach him for some reason and it’s pretty urgent. Anyway, just let Raul know I stopped by. My name is Anya. Anya Berger."

"Of course," she replied in that 'not-a-chance' tone. "Have a nice day, Mrs Berger."

You retreated with your dignity in tatters and headed for the exit. What on earth possessed you to come here? You could have just as easily gone to the Microsoft headquarters and said you brought Bill Gates some home-made pancakes, and by the way, where was he?

Fuck.

As you made your way out, you heard the young man with framed glasses murmur to his coworker, "Such bullshit." You couldn't help but eavesdrop. "I've seen the birds Raul brings to the parties and they are top-notch. Not some..."

You stopped in your tracks. Normally, you were not the scandalous type (you were a people pleaser, if anything), but if the world wanted to treat you like a doormat, you would at least bark back.

“Not some what?”, you asked before he would finish the sentence.

"Oh, my apologies, miss. I wasn't talking to you. It was just a conversation with my colleague," he responded with a saccharine smile. All these guys sported slicked-back hairdos, boxy glasses and Patagonia vests. Your socks had more personality than these fucks.

“You were talking about me, you Patrick Bateman knock-off. So, what did you want to say?”

His faux-polite smile vanished in an instant.

"Wow, okay”, the guy sneered. “What did I want to say? In a completely unrelated conversation, I wanted to say that giving a drunk blowjob on a Tuesday night doesn't make someone anyone's girlfriend."

“You know what he will do with you if I ask him to?”, you said, your fists clenched.

You did realise how much of a cunt you sounded, but Raphael burned a guy’s mouth for calling him a two pump chump; surely he can burn this guy for being a jerk to you, too.

There should be some benefit in being Devil’s special little mouse, right?

The guy just scoffed at your threat, small drops of coffee landing on your face. His coworker looked embarrassed and quickly looked away.

"Oh, I don't know," the guy retorted, "Why don't you call Mr. d'Avergni and ask him to fire me? Oh wait… do you really have his number?"

You couldn't come up with a clever response, so your anger gave you a bad one.

“I hope a damn bus runs you over”, you grumbled under your breath.

For a split second, you found yourself hoping that very scenario would unfold. That some rogue city bus would burst through the wall and flatten him. Once wasn’t enough; it’d reverse and do it again for good measure.

Alas, no such luck.

The security at the door started to pay attention, but you didn't want to cause any more of a scene.

You chose to rise above (not that you had any choice) and strutted away.

"Mr. d’Avergni is not going to call you back, nut job," the guy called after you. "He's way out of your league."

Your fingers clenched around the straps of your rucksack, knuckles white as you retreated.

The moment you left the posh building behind, you felt terrible. In an attempt to make yourself feel a little better, you grabbed a subway sandwich with some extra ham and a sugar bomb coffee from Starbucks, but it did nothing to improve your mood. You found a spot on the steps of the library and sat down to eat and brood everything over.

Let's look at the cold, hard facts. You lost your job, that's one thing. You might be pregnant with a devil's spawn that'll tear you apart on its way out, that's two. You've only saved enough money to get by, that's three. And on top of that, some yuppie jerk ridiculed you.

That's four. On the plus side... on the plus side...

Well, you had the best sex of your life last night (by a large, large margin). Just thinking about that orgasm made you dizzy. And that kiss. His lips. His hazel eyes. The way Raphael looked in a waistcoat with a cigar. The way he looked at you.

…yeah.

You stared into the distance, catching the outline of a Catholic cathedral out of the corner of your eye. A thought occurred to you then; Raphael had been so irked by your cross. Going to an actual church will probably make Raphael jealous of the other Big Guy with the magical powers (even though he hadn’t demonstrated them for at least some centuries) that he might actually come out and talk to you.

You wolfed down the rest of the sandwich and got up.

The cathedral door, huge, twice your size, seemed to be closed. In the old days, you would have just walked away; it was clear you weren't welcome. But now, with all the rules and logic thrown out the window, you pushed against it and, lo and behold, it did open for you.

At first glance, the cathedral seemed devoid of life. There is something utterly captivating about an empty cathedral, as there is about all things that are not supposed to be empty. It was a beautiful church; no doubt about that. Obscenely rich, too, gold gilded altars and towering stained glass windows that painted kaleidoscopic patterns on cold marble floors. Marble statues of angels stood sentinel along the walls. Why do they always have these judgemental looks on their faces? Sinner, sinner, sinner.

I am; so fuck off.

Far richer than any church should be, and yet the first humble wooden box that caught your eye was "DONATIONS WELCOME".

As you navigated towards the altar (a good half-minute journey across the vast nave), you discovered you weren't alone after all; an elderly pastor dozed in his throne-like chair and a choirboy leafed through sheet music by the monstrous organ pipes.

"Lord Almighty," the pastor creaked as he looked at you. "How did you get in?"

"The door?" you said, gesturing behind you.

He blinked twice.

"I was sure I had locked it. Oh, my memory. Getting old is no fun, child, I can tell you that."

The pastor was one of the types desperately trying to pass themselves off as your friend.

"Should I go or..." you asked, not really wanting to go anywhere.

The moment you stepped through the door of the church, you felt like you were crossing worlds again; the mundane real world was behind the door, and the world where interesting things happened was right there.

"Or no... Please stay," said the priest. "If you're here, it must be God's will. We don't turn anyone away. It's not like we've had many newcomers lately."

That might have something to do with being kid fiddlers, you thought, looking at the choirboy in the white and red outfit - fourteen, fifteen at the most - but you said nothing and came closer.

"And what brings you to the house of God, my child?" The priest's smile was warm and inviting. "Would you like to make a confession?"

No, no, absolutely not.

“Or, no”, you chuckled nervously. “No, Father, I wanted…”

(to piss off the devil by coming to the church)

“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”

The choir boy looked up in interest.

“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”

The choir boy looked up in interest.

"The devils?" the pastor asked incredulously, rubbing the dust off his glasses. "There is but one; you probably mean demons. What about them?"

"Just, ugh... Say, I am haunted by one. Ah, no, you are haunted by ghosts; possessed, then. What would be the procedure?"

You didn't really know what you were asking for. You didn't really believe that there was a step-by-step guide to getting rid of a devil in your bed, especially if you invited him, especially if you liked him very much.

The priest put his hand on his belly and laughed, the old wheezing laugh of a man with a heart condition. God, it smelt like incense in here; such a suffocating smell, as if it was meant to dull any common sense.

"My child," he said, putting a fatherly hand on your shoulder. "The Church may have its doctrines, but the idea of demons is simply a metaphor. A representation of our transgressions, our weaknesses."

He laughed a little more and then told you very gently, carefully, as if you were mentally deficient:

"Demons are not real. They are metaphors, allegories".

Having heard all your life that the Devil is watching, the Devil is waiting, and now all of sudden he is not real, and you were pretty sure he had fucked you raw yesterday.

Very helpful, Father. You suddenly felt an urge to bring forth the Antichrist just to spite the entire Catholic Church.

The cathedral door groaned in protest as it swung open once more. You looked over your shoulder.

The man entering the cathedral was the last person who should be treading on consecrated ground.

"Then who the hell is that, Father?" you muttered under your breath.

"Oh, my dear friend!" replied the priest with the broadest of smiles. "What a joy to see you!”

Raphael's attire was nearly identical to the first time you saw him in the cafe: a three-piece suit with a subtle shift in color, now a deep navy. A bit of a dated look of a wheeler and dealer in smoke-filled rooms; something very much “Mad Men” about him.

"Darling, you claimed not to be religious," Raphael smiled at you as he approached and gave you a light kiss on the cheek. "But look where I find you."

"Well, you're also the last person I would expect to see in a church," you replied.

"Why is that?” The priest asked. “This man has done more for the Church than any other, my dear child!"

They embraced, the priest and the businessman, like good old friends. Well, you always knew that the Church was in cahoots with the Devil, but not so literally. You shook your head at the hypocrisy of the Church, Raphael, and the way things were done in general.

"You exaggerate, Flavio," said Raphael. "Besides, it's my pleasure and duty to contribute to my community. I assume you've already met, but let me introduce you anyway - Anya, my paramour".

Raphael gestured to you. Better tell your colleagues that, you thought, since they doubted it so much. He should also find this guy in the glasses, introduce you to him and then fire him immediately (and have him run over by a bus while he was on his way to collect his things). In fact, that was now your main requirement for staying his little mouse.

"Blessed be, I'm ecstatic for you both," the priest gushed, barely containing his excitement. "Praise the Lord that you are finally doing better, Raul. It's about time..."

Raphael gave him a very cold smile and interrupted with a slight raise of his hand.

“Dimmi, hai preparato i documenti che ti ho chiesto? Il fisco sta facendo dellle indagini”.

"Haha!” the priest laughed. “La tua ragazza è venuta a chiedermi dei diavoli, forse avrei dovuto indicarle l'ufficio delle imposte".

Their conversation dove into rapid Italian, leaving you in the dust. It was rude but precisely their intention. Your attention wandered from them and across the hauntingly beautiful church interior, finally resting on the choir boy standing in the shadows.

He looked very pale. The poor guy was scared, scared shitless. His lips moved soundlessly; words stuck in his throat like swallowed stones. Tracing his petrified stare, your own eyes landed on the towering wall of the church.

The shadow Raphael was casting was not human; wings unfurled from its back and double horns crowned its head. It looked both eerie and beautiful in the soft candlelight. A part of you admired it for its artistic potential; this could be inspiration for some haunting fanart.

Wait a second.

“Do you see it too?” You mouthed silently to the choir boy who nodded frantically, sweat on his forehead.

A surge of relief washed over you - finally someone else shared your madness. But before you could reach out to him, he darted away into the ink-black abyss of the back room. Raphael's touch on your hand halted any thought of following him.

“Ah, pay him no heed,” dismissed the priest nonchalantly. “The boy’s mind is somewhat...disturbed.” He quickly clarified with an awkward laugh: “Not that we judge here – all are welcome under God's roof.”

Even the Devil himself, it seemed.

Your gaze returned to Raphael and then flickered towards the pastor; he either couldn't see or chose to ignore the monstrous shadow of his parishioner.

Or perhaps, he did see it and was merely delighted to meet his true master.

"Take all the time you need, Flavio," Raphael said, his hand dismissive as he sent the pastor scurrying. "We're in no rush."

The priest melted into the shadows of a side corridor, leaving you alone with the Devil in God's house. If Raphael nudged you back just a fraction more, your body would be flush against the cold stone altar.

You found the idea very intriguing.

"Our little escapade last night was quite... memorable, wouldn't you agree?" His fingertips traced a path along your cheekbone. "Did you come here seeking salvation from your sins?"

"Sins? No," you replied coyly. "There are other things that trouble me... Like how I lost my job because of you."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “And how exactly did I manage such a feat?"

"Well, my company was acquired by yours and I was restructured away."

A slight frown creased his brow as he considered this. "So, you were employed by Tenebris? That is an unfortunate twist of fate." He paused before continuing, "Did you enjoy working for them?"

"Not particularly," you admitted, "but it paid my bills and kept me fed."

He smiled, his touch lingering on your skin. "And what price tag did they put on keeping you pliant?"

"Two thousand two hundred euros net”.

And sixty euros. Plus a free travel pass and a discount at a gym you never went to. Plus a yearly bonus!

This revelation seemed to snap him out of his trance-like admiration of you.

"A month?" His tone held an edge of horror and for once, it felt good to see him rattled.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. His gaze was filled with genuine sympathy. It wasn't such a terrible salary - it was above the country's average after all!

"I see," he murmured. "This explains your living situation. My dear Anya, don't let anyone under-value you; your time is worth far more than that. As for your current predicament - and I confess to having contributed to it - I will make amends."

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain leather wallet. You couldn't resist taking a look yourself; there was a government ID card, a driver's licence and several other cards you couldn't identify. He pulled out a sleek black credit card and handed it over.

"I'll let my banker know you're authorized," he said. “He will contact you with regards to security details”.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," you quickly interjected, pride sparking in your chest. "I can fend for myself."

"Don’t you ever say no to me," Raphael warned with a playful edge to his voice as he pulled you closer into his arms. "It won't end well."

His jesting tone didn't quite mask the threat in his words, but you couldn't help but grin. Whatever he says, the very way he says it is just so nice.

"I'd rather have a job," you said, not sure if you were actually that eager to get back into the corporate grind.

"Then I shall arrange one for you," he grinned. "A prestigious position under a very demanding superior. It will keep you very, very occupied."

You were pretty sure that position was not what you went to college for. Then again, didn't he say yesterday that he had a job for you?

"Consider it limitless," Raphael added nonchalantly while your fingers traced the cool metal of the credit card. "If you manage to find its limit, consider me thoroughly impressed."

Did he want you to splash out on new clothes and the like? But there were more pressing matters at hand. Your mum had just cleared her towering credit card debt and was in need of some expensive dental work. The local cat shelter was on the brink of closure and rent was due.

"I actually wanted to help my mum out a bit, if that's okay, she's, ugh"... you started, rolling the credit card in your hands.

"Anya," Raphael interrupted sternly. "You shall have whatever you wish for.”

You nodded and looked into his eyes, remembering the pleasure of lying under him yesterday and how much you wanted to do so again.

"About last night," you said. "Should I take the morning-after pill..."

Raphael shook his head in disbelief.

"You Catholic girls... No need for that considering our activities last night, but even if there was...I've always envisioned having a family but never found the right woman."

It's such a stupid cliché, you thought, as your stomach fluttered and you let him lean in for a kiss.

But maybe. Just maybe. Maybe he really meant it. He had such a horrible life in hell. Maybe you were the first one…

…the actual first one, the one…

Right . You still don't want to die in childbirth, however flattering Raphael’s words might be. If you pay for Plan B with his credit card, will he see it? Nah, better use your own.

"...right," you murmured against his mouth, then remembered what else was bothering you. "And could you please tell your colleagues that we are together?".

Were you even together, you wondered in sudden fear, but Raphael nodded:

"I'll make it very much known, if that's what you wish for."

Your heart pounded in agreement. The more people knew, the more tangible it felt.

As Raphael's lips melted against yours, you glanced at his shadow on the wall and smiled; he must have thought you were looking at the confessional, for apparently the horned outline of his own shadow was not bizarre to him.

"Would you like to confess? I could absolve you of all sins" Raphael whispered in your ear, his hand slowly but surely tracing the full curve of your arse, still sore from his tail-whipping. "I am afraid you have to commit them first, though”.

He gave it a light squeeze and you yelped; he seemed to revel in the sound.

"We're in the sacred house," you blushed, squirming under his very bold advances and enjoying them very much.

"Indeed we are," Raphael concurred, his hands yanking you into the shadowy Catholic confessional, shoving you in first. The image of him cloaked in his holy robes flashed in your mind and a giggle bubbled up at the sheer audacity of it all. “What better place for blasphemy?”

The cabin was barely big enough for the two of you, dimly lit and very narrow; meant for one person only, the other chamber remained empty, separated only by a small window. The smell of old wood and incense filled your nostrils as he closed the door behind you.

The last time you went to confession, you were a teenager and the priest was so old and ugly that no dirty thoughts crossed your mind; but now you suddenly realised that there was no hotter place on earth.

Raphael's lips brushed your earlobe, his stubble against your cheek, "Kneel before me," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Show me how remorseful you are for cavorting with the Devil."

You weren’t sorry.

Not one bit.

Without hesitation or second thoughts, just like you had before the chair yesterday, you sank to your knees in front of him. Something told you that this will become a familiar position for you in the days to come.

The moment your face was against his groin, Raphael undid his pants. His cock sprang out, large, reddish and throbbing; even better than you had imagined. You couldn't help but wrap your hands around it, almost in disbelief that this thing was so real and so eager for your mouth. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you licked it off, savouring the salty and musky taste.

Raphael gasped above you, his body tense with pure lust. Your thighs clench together in excitement and you feel the soaked panties stick to your pussy as you feel him guide your head towards his cock.

“Repent, you little sinner”, Raphael muttered, his voice thick with lust. "Plead for your redemption."

Judging by his state, he should be the one pleading.

You teased him with slow, deliberate licks, the tip of your tongue tracing his frenulum up and down (he loved it). You nuzzled your cheek against his rigid shaft, a purr of satisfaction escaping your lips as you lavished it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Each vein was a roadmap for you to follow, every inch of his cock kissed and licked with a fervour that bordered on reverence.

"Enough," he said. "I want to see the depth of your remorse".

Your tongue slid over the top of his head and your lips followed, parting as you slowly took him into your mouth. Raphael moaned and you echoed him, your voice pulsing against his shaft, the church walls echoing the unholy litany. You sucked his cock greedily, desperately, drawing him into a warm, needy vacuum, and the harder you tried, the wetter you became.

You wanted to give Raphael the blowjob of his millennium; you gave everything to serve him, saliva slicking down his shaft, down your chin, down your t-shirt, as every muscle in your mouth worked hard for his pleasure. The world around blurred into nothingness; all you could focus on was the dark thatch of hair framing his groin and the rhythmic motion of his cock sliding in and out of you.

No one ever wanted to suck him off as much as you did, as deep and sloppy and messy as you did. You liked the scent of him, the taste of him, the feeling of him, the sound of him; everything about him; you’d love to suck him dry.

“Keep going”, Raphael let out a moan of such desperate pleasure it could be pain. "Dare to stop and I promise you'll taste hellfire."

As if you had any intention of stopping; this was an act of worship you could perform for eternity.

You glanced up; he was sweated, chestnut locks clinging to his forehead, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across his face, and you felt more powerful than ever in your life. He tugged his necktie loose and opened the collar, his breathing coming out harsh and shallow. He was at your mercy; at the mercy of your tongue and throat.

Raphael bucked his hips, desperate to thrust in your mouth, and you let him take control; let him grab and hold your head while you simply hang in his grip, pliant and passive, as his cock jerked in and out. He went at it with such ferocity as if he hadn’t fucked for months; which you very well knew not to be true.

Gag reflex kicked in, your body threatening to revolt, and you repressed it with all the will you had, tears gathering in your eyes, and with each move of his hips it became more and more challenging. Thankfully, his bucking became more desperate; your mouth clamped down harder around his cock, and you let your tongue run up and down his shaft.

You felt hot jets of liquid gush against your throat as Raphael cried out, his body shivered and he leaned forward as he came, and you felt stupid happy. A larger bit of his cum dribbled straight down your throat, the rest pooled in your mouth around his cock.

“Swallow”, Raphael said, his voice deeper, rougher now. "Take all of me."

He was not going to pull out, not until every drop of him was inside you, so you made two very deliberate gulps, rolling the slight bitterness of his release on your tongue before you swallowed it all down.

Then you looked up at him like a starving animal - hungry for more. Your fingers carefully gathered the stray droplets of his cum and you greedily licked them off. As a final gesture, you kissed the tip of his cock, to which he cursed under his breath; something in Italian; whichever it was, it sounded hot.

You grinned, licking your lips, so proud of yourself.

"You are divine," Raphael said as he pulled you up by your hair, pressing you hard against the confessional wall before claiming your lips in a rough kiss – tasting himself on them. "Divine. You are a treasure. I cannot believe my own luck. I cannot believe…”

In that moment, if he had told you he loved you, you would have believed him without hesitation.These very words were on the tip of your tongue but you chose to channel it all into the kiss.

The priest's footsteps echoed through the church, amplified by the silence.

"Li ho presi," he happily announced.

Raphael hastily adjusted his clothing, looking genuinely embarrassed for a brief moment. The two of you stumbled out of the confessional, not exactly gracefully.

From the pastor's expression, you could tell he understood what had happened between you and Raphael in the confessional. Your faces were flushed and your hair was disheveled from his hands tugging and pulling on it. Your damp chin, which you hastily wiped with your sleeve, only made things more obvious.

“...Raul," Flavio chided with a tone heavy with disapproval. "I still hope to wed you in this very church, but you're making it exceedingly difficult."

His eyes didn’t even glance at you; apparently, any attempt at salvation or reprimand was wasted on you now.

"I donate millions to this church,” Raphael retorted dismissively, dusting off imaginary lint from his shoulders. "If you want others to overlook certain things, you should be prepared to do the same."

The Father raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he handed over some documents to Raphael.

With that, the audience was over.

The angel statues glared down at you with undisguised contempt; particularly the one clutching a sword. That’s exactly why people turn to devils, you judgemental winged pricks on high horses, you thought. You rolled the aftertaste of devil's cum on your tongue and thought that going to heaven was definitely not in your near future.

Exiting the church, you were met by two armed men standing guard at the doors. For a moment, you thought you were being apprehended for lewd conduct in public. Raphael's security, you realized.. Of course he had security. Both looked like dark, looming, emotionless twin shadows. What were they really? Cambions? Orthons? Surely no one could truly harm him?

You clutched closer to Raphael, his lips brushing your forehead as he attended another phone call.

“Mamma mia,” he blurted out mere moments after he picked up, and a chuckle escaped you at how stereotypically Italian he sounded. You hadn't realized that was an actual phrase they used. His furrowed brows and concerned tone quickly sobered up the mood though, "What happened? Where? Was it on Main Street?"

He looked genuinely troubled and you offered silent comfort by intertwining your fingers with his. He responded with a reassuring squeeze.

“One of my juniors got into a...”, he told you as soon as he had hung up. “Into some macabre road accident”.

Hit by a bus, you realized with a jolt but kept your silence.

You had to witness it yourself.

Without a word, you followed Raphael to the crash scene, the wailing sirens of fire trucks and ambulances echoing in your ears. Security trailed along behind, all of you making your way through the gathering crowd.

The sight that greeted you was both mundane and horrifying, in a way that only real life could be. The bus stood askew, its once deep blue body now painted with crimson streaks. And there, on the cold pavement, was...splattered…what was left of a person.

"I don't know what happened," an older Asian man sobbed nearby, his words falling on deaf ears. "I swear I've been driving this thing for twenty years, I swear I was not drunk..."

The policewoman stood tall and stern above him, her arms crossed in a way that made it clear she had already formed her judgement. Some other kind soul actually offered him an anti-shock blanket. Some less kind souls were taking pictures of their phones. News reports were arriving, too.

This poor man probably had a family to support. What would happen to him now?

You could handle all the exaggerated violence and gore on television, but you absolutely could not watch the man sprawled out on the pavement in real life; or at least what was left of him. It reminded you of the cherry pudding from the evening before. You could see his broken glasses scattered haphazardly on the ground and tears welled up in your eyes.

He was a jerk, sure, but he was also mortal, like you. Now he lay dead, wrapped in plastic sheets, and it could have easily been you.

Where was he now? Did Raphael claim his soul?

Did you cause his death?

You didn't mean for it to happen. Well, maybe you did, but...

“Don’t look, piccola,” Raphael murmured in your ear, his hand shielding your eyes. “You fainted over a cherry pudding once; this is by far worse. Damn it! My youngest and most promising. Just twenty-seven years old and newly engaged. An absolute tragedy.”

The same age as you.

"I'm sorry... he was so rude to me," you choked out between sobs. "I didn't think..."

“Anya, please, it's none of your fault,” Raphael’s voice softened. “Just the cruelty of fate; an accident. We cannot be held responsible for such misfortunes”.

“No?”, you asked with a faint hope.

You were not a bad person, even if you were fucking the devil; in fact, you were going to splurge his credit card on all the animal shelters and children battling cancer to make up for what you had just did. You were not a bad person.

You were not a murderer, no, no, no.

“No,” he repeated and then a slight smile, completely inappropriate to the moment, touched his lips. “Except when very much are responsible; unless we made it happen.”

Raphael’s words made you flinch slightly but he maintained his hold on you.

Yeah, well, you did that, you wanted to say, I did nothing, I only wished for it.

“The driver must have been under the influence,” he continued . “I cannot conceive any other reason for running over a pedestrian at a red light.”

You breathed out. The air was thick with the smell of gasoline, burned rubber and the scent of blood; metallic smell of death.

“Oh, you look rattled, poor thing, look at those tears”, he cooed and offered you a handkerchief with his initials on it. “Anya, love, my apologies, but I have to attend to this immediately. There’s going to be press, rumors that we work people to death that’s why he was not looking around. I need to be there for my company”.

For the company?

“…And for his family, of course”, Raphael added as if reading your thoughts. “That’s his fiance over there, I suppose. Oh, take her away, you morons…”

There she was, the woman in a suit, wailing like a banshee, as somebody tried to hold her close and hug her. What she had seen just now she would never, ever forget.

Raphael held both your shoulders and rotated you to face him.

“You.. you know what? Go shopping, distract yourself a bit. Then call my driver to take you to my place. We'll spend the evening together”.

His words were met with a hollow nod from your side. You cast another side glance at the accident, and he gently turned your face towards him again.

"And learn when to look away," Raphael murmured, punctuating his advice with a soft kiss on your lips, "It's an essential survival skill."

#bg3 raphael #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #fanfic #raphael x tav #raphael x player #raphael x reader #meta #knock knock

71 notes · View notes

babygirlselvinaa · 1 year ago

Text

Unearthly Love

Pairing: Za'stah (Male yautja) x Fem human reader

Summary: On your way home from school you never imagined you’d be kidnapped by an alien.

Word count: 422

A/N: First time writing for yautja so I hope I did alright.