#Scorched Bride

[zegalba]

Robert Wun: 'Scorched Bride' Couture Gown, Spring/Summer 2023. Model: Rawdah Mohamed

[freddie5romeo2blaine2sidney4]

My Favorite Gryffindor🦁 Characters

Katiness Everdeen

Thomas

Evan Buckley

Beatrice Prior

Belly Conklin

Victor Van Dort

Mulan

Daniel LaRusso

Finn Hudson

Kat Stratford

[velvetcloak]

The Scorched Bride, Robert Wun

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | last. long live the empire

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Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Western Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

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[snowande]

Perverted ghost

(Male x Female)

you buy a old house with a good price, sadly you didn't know that the house has a ghost that waited for someone to be his bride for a long time.

when you were bending to cleaning the couch, suddenly something lick your crotch on your clothed shorts and making a wet patch.

the ghost really REALLY loves messing with you, at midnight when you were asleep, the ghost would folding your chest, licking and sucking your clit at midnight.

At night after done working from your job, you came home and make dinner for yourself, because at work you didn't get to eat, your boss is such an ass for giving you many paperworks.

So here you are making dinner in the kitchen, when you feel the atmosphere drop icycold.

You know he's here.

The ghost's presence grew stronger, his unseen form walking to you slowly. Suddenly, a cold fingers trailed up your thigh, sending involuntary shivers through your body.

Cold breath tickled the nape of your neck as the ghost whispered, "Mmm, dinner smells delicious, but you're my real appetite." His hand cupped your breast through your shirt, the cold seeping into your skin and playing with your nipples.

You yelp, dropping the tongs you were holding for making the fried chickens. The ghost chuckled softly, his other hand snaking around your waist and sliding into your pants. His frigid touch on your warmth was both exhilarating and unsettling. "You're so warm..."

His fingers found your most intimate area, stroking you with an otherworldly gentleness. The ghost's voice echoed in your mind, "I've waited so long for a bride like you. Your body is exquisite." His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered huskily,

His hands became more insistent, one squeezing your breast painfully while the other parted your folds and slid inside you. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your hands gripping the countertop tightly as the ghost began to toy with you.

His touch was both cold and scorching, sending wave after wave of sensation through your core. Your breath hitched as he added a second finger, his thumb circling your engorged bud. The ghost's voice grew more demanding in your mind, "Moan for me."

"Haaa... " You did as you were told, finally letting out the sounds that he wants. The ghost fingers worked you with inhuman skill. Your hips began to buck against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you wet and empty.

Suddenly he grab your arms and lifts you effortlessly and lays you back on the kitchen counter, The cold surface shocks your heated skin as he spreads your legs, positioning himself between them.

You feel the ghost's rigid length pressing against your entrance, cold as death yet throbbing with spectral desire. He teases you with the tip, circling your opening, coating himself in your slick arousal. "I'm going to claim you, make you mine for eternity,"

His voice dripped with possessiveness as he slowly pushed into you, his icy form melting against your warmth. You threw your head back, clutching the edge of the counter as he filled you, moaning at how the cold form entering you.

You try to get the length out of you, so your hand goes down to your crotch and finding nothing but empty air that fucking your cunt, he chuckled softly. "Forgot I'm a ghost, my dear...?" He drew back, almost withdrawing entirely before slamming back into you.

Every thrust sent a shockwaves through your core, contrasting deliciously with the heat radiating from your flushed skin. The ghost's invisible cock plunged deeper, each stroke reaching places you never knew existed. His voice reverberated through your mind, dripping with dark amusement.

His phantom cock continued its relentless assault, pounding into you, The coolness of his cold shaft contrasted intensely with the scorching heat of your climax building deep within. He leaned in close, his icy breath tickling your ear as he whispered to you.

"Come for me, my love..." His thrusts quickened, the counter shaking with the force of his spectral hips slamming against yours. He reached between you, finding your clit with an unseen finger and rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

Your body started to trembled on the precipice, ghostly fingers teasing and stroking, sending electric shocks of pleasure coursing through every vein. With a shuddering moan, you climaxed hard, your inner muscles clenching around the cock still plunging into you.

As your orgasm crashed over you in waves, you can feel his cold essence into your body, foolding your core. You felt strangely full, both physically and spiritually.

Even as your climax subsided, you could still feel the phantom cock throbbing within you, as if reluctant to leave the warmth of your body. The ghostly essence seemed to pulse and swell, as if expanding to fill every inch of your being.

He nuzzled against your neck, his cold breath sending shivers down your spine. "You're mine now" he whispered, his voice like a winter's breeze. "My warmth, my bride..." he finally pull out from your cum filled cunt

And finally he kiss your lip as a goodbye for now, because you need to rest after the love making he do with you as an official couple. you knew he will come back to his wife.

As you laid on the kitchen counter breathless then you smell something burning.

Ah, you forgot to turn off the stove.

I'm sorry if you already see this and I'm reupload it again because for some reason I don't see my post at my page :( -Lumi

picture is from Pinterest Rakusetsu

Tag @nymphea0

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 3) part 1, part 2

-

“Neglecting your husband already?” he asks when you pull away from the arm curling around your waist. It’d migrated there from your back during the walk away from the courthouse. 

“You know I’m not—I’m not some horse that you can just…break in,” you seethe, glaring up at Price. Your arms are crossed tight over your chest, putting the slightest boundary between you and him. It’s more of a mental boundary than anything, a self-soothing gesture; you know it hardly even registers to him because the man still looks down at you with that unimpressed expression, like dealing with a particularly vexing child. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, looking you up and down. It’s a scorching, hungry look and it makes you shift from foot to foot. 

The two of you stand outside the front door of his house, the front door still shut tight. You put up a fuss on the walk from town as the reality of your situation finally sunk in, squirming in his hold until he threatened to just load you over his shoulder and carry you off. His tone leaves little for you to doubt. Nothing about him brooks skepticism; until the end of time, you’ll look at John Price and think, this is a man of action. This is a man that will move heaven and earth. 

You clam up after that, lips pursed shut though turned down at the corners. 

It’s a bigger house than you might’ve expected for a single man, but perhaps it was built with a wife and children in mind. The thought makes you swallow. A wooden two-story thing with a porch out front and an adjacent stable for his two horses with a pen around back. Speckled Appaloosas that look up at the sound of his boots and keys, attentive for all of a few seconds before losing interest. 

You know without asking that Price must have built this house with his own two hands. It’s not shoddy by any means, but his house has that indefinable quality that some places have. Organic. Homegrown, almost. It’s hard to put up against the houses of your youth, but then again, you grew up in the cramped quarters of the city, apartments thick with the scent of sewage on bad days and dust on the good. The two are hardly comparable. It’s even harder to put up against the estates that you’ve spent the better part of the last few years cleaning and learning inside out, but at least his house doesn’t make your stomach turn at the sight. 

There’s a moment when you first turn to him where you wonder if he’ll look for approval in your face, some sign to set him at ease, but when you meet his gaze, it’s steady and impenetrable. Quietly self-assured. It’s incongruent with the machismo you were raised around, the constant need to impress or transcend. It puts you on edge. It makes you almost feel like baring your teeth.

Your comment had come from seeing the horses and the house and the porch with the two rocking chairs, your hackles raising every step closer. Price built his house big enough for children because he anticipated a baby in his future. Children he’d have with his wife, which, though a fuzzy memory as far as memories go, you quietly stepped into the role of not half an hour ago. 

You’ve thought about it before. Motherhood; marriage, domestic living, settling down with a man to start a family. The reality of your life has always made it seem like a problem for the future. Years chipping away like flakes of faded paint off the walls of your bedroom, still living with your aunt and uncle well into adulthood, trying desperately to scrimp and save and stay afloat. Disappointing but not surprising that you’d never been considered the marriable sort, not with scrubbing other people's toilets for a living. 

And now look at you, ring on your finger and whisked home to be bedded. A shiver roles down your spine at the thought and you scowl at Price instead of sinking into the strange thrill. 

When he wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you towards him (his fingers easily overlapping; another thrill), you snap.

“That is quite enough with all the touching!” 

His eyes narrow. “I’ll have more than my hands on you by the end of the night.”

A more proper woman would gasp. You barely hold yours back. 

You know in the back of your mind that you’ve already lost any semblance of an upper hand in this situation. It has long spiraled out of your control. His ring sits on your finger all nice and pretty, and though you signed your marriage license under a different name—your own rather than the name of his actual intended—that Price hadn’t even bothered confirming, you are, for all intents and purposes, his to touch as he pleases. 

“I’m—” your eyes dart around, the urge to bolt a sharp and sudden compulsion lodged in your chest, “—I know I said yes, but I—there’s always the possibility of an a-annulment if we don’t…if…”

You flinch, startled, when he pulls you into his chest only to cup your face again. He has big hands with callused fingers, rough against your skin. Up close, you can see the way his beard is cropped closer than his mustache and mutton chops. It gives him a grim air, almost somber until you catch his eyes staring down at you with an affection that feels unearned, meant for someone else. 

“Deep breaths, darling, there’s nothing to fret about just yet. You’ll work yourself into a state like this,” he murmurs, dropping his head to sip a kiss from your lips again. 

You’ve been in a state since the moment you walked into the sheriff’s office and laid eyes on this man. Turned around and knocked sideways, like you’ve walked into a storybook without noticing. If only it hadn’t all been so sudden, you might’ve been able to approach the situation with a clearer head. You might’ve been able to think up some other way out of it beyond giving Price a fake name and waiting anxiously for your true identity to be painstakingly drawn out over the course of a week. 

“Don’t know why you keep working yourself up,” Price says softly, then slots your lips together for another tender kiss. “Figured you might be a little skittish, but…’m gonna be such a good husband for you, honey. Not gonna want for nothing.”

His slow kisses drag out longer than back in the courthouse, languorous and decadent. As if he has all the time in the world now. In a way, he does, now that he’s helped collect your belongings from the inn and brought you home. When you think of pulling away, the hand wrapped around your wrist lets go and slides to your back, pulling you flush against his chest. Your breasts flatten against his chest, pulse skittering like mad when you feel the hardest of his chest against yours and the muscle holding you in place. 

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips when the hand on your cheek slides to the nape of your neck and grips, holding you in place. The kiss deepens, the heat on your cheeks feeling palpably hot, vision swimming until your eyes have no choice but to flutter shut. Your suitcase sits forgotten somewhere in the dirt, toppled over onto its side. You pant low, hot breaths into his mouth when he breaks the kiss, letting his lips just hover over yours.

“There we go, darlin’,” Price mumbles against your mouth, sliding the hand on your low back down to grip the plump flesh of your ass through your dress, lips twitching when you make a broken, affronted sound. “Isn’ that better? Not thinkin’ so hard?”

You can’t think at all, in truth. When he kisses you again, your thoughts evaporate up into the clouds, the tongue licking into your mouth dispelling any ideas or notions you might’ve had. It disappears into the heat and lust and the fingers digging into your backside, groping at the flesh there without shame or compunction. You go with him when he clutches you closer, gasping again into his mouth when you feel something hard press against your low belly. He grunts when you twitch against it. 

“John—John—” you gasp, pulling your mouth away and whimpering when he chases after you, letting him steal another wet, slick kiss before your trembling hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. “Enough—it’s not—it’s not proper—”

“No prying eyes around here,” he grunts. “‘Sides, who’s going to tell a man he can’t kiss his own wife?”

Trembling all the harder at his words, you dig your nails into his shirt sleeves and hope you pinch the skin underneath. All twisted up inside. The ring on your finger glimmers when it catches the light, brighter even than the sun this close to your face. When Price feels your nails dig into his arms, he groans, fingers pressing harder into your bottom and making you squeak. All the pent up lust finally trickling out of him and into you. 

“C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside.” He finally lets you go after giving your bottom lip one last wet suck, pulling it into his mouth while his half-lidded eyes stare into yours. It’s somehow more intimate than kissing. 

You’re still reeling when he turns around to pick your suitcase off the ground, certain that your knees will give way and send you tumbling as well. Every point of contact on your body sizzles, aches. You watch from outside of yourself as he turns back to you, suitcase in his hand now, eyes still dark and fixed on you. Hungry. Your eyes widen when they flit down to find a thick bulge at the crotch of his pants. 

Like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head, you hiss and back up three steps when he takes a step towards you. “Oh no, you don’t take one step closer! I won’t have anything to do with—with that!”

You must look like some feral barn cat, back all puffed up, teeth bared to the man trying to coax you towards him. Price must see it too because he grins, amused. “Still spittin’ mad, huh? Felt those claws in me before, darlin’…gonna love feeling them with nothing between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Price doesn’t bother clearing anything up, but you intuit it the second he takes another step in your direction, whirling around and sprinting towards the house. It feels counterproductive to seek shelter in the man’s house, but dusty plains stretch out in every direction apart from back into town, where you know not a soul will lift a finger to help you. His house is the only shelter you’re going to get.

You hurry up the porch stairs, tearing open the door before glancing over your shoulder to find Price not far behind. He advances on you at a walking pace, but each stride of his long legs matches two of yours, making you shriek and scurry up the staircase. You dart for the first open door you see, slamming it shut behind you and leaning your whole weight against it. Glancing down, you perk up at the sight of a lock on the door before flipping it.

It’s not long before the sound of boots clomping up the staircase meets your ears, headed straight in your direction. You shake when you hear him pause right outside the door, then startle when he tries the knob. 

“You gonna let me in, darling?” Price asks, grin in his voice. Even raps his knuckle against the door for good measure.

“No,” you snap. 

“Not even for your things? Got your suitcase right here.” You hear him set it down, a little clunk against the wood floor. 

“I can manage like this. I’ve slept in my dress before.”

He pauses. “Have you?”

You tilt your chin up proudly despite the door blocking his view. “Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again. You can just stay on the other side of that door until you…until you put that thing away.”

“Can’t do much about that thing, darling; it’s sort of grown on me over the years anyway,” Price chuckles. “Well, not much I can do with it behind this door. I’ll go tend the horses ‘till suppertime comes ‘round and then come back to tend to you.”

“Licentious…reprobate,” you hiss through the door. 

He laughs, the sound deep in his throat. Your stomach flips. 

The stairs creak under the weight of his boots as he descends back downstairs. You wait until you hear the front door open and shut behind him, until the house is completely quiet save for the blood pumping in your ears before you hastily unlock the door and dart a hand out just to pull your suitcase in. You shut and lock the door as soon as it passes the threshold. 

It takes a while to settle your nerves and for the trembling to subside. In the meantime, you sit on your bottom at the foot of the door, with your back still pressed firmly to the wood, and take stock. There’s a bed in the room, one you hadn’t noticed in your mad scramble to lock yourself in. A bigger bed than the one you’d slept on back at the inn, but just as sparse, with gray flannel sheets and a blue quilt folded and draped over the end of the bed. 

The rest of the furniture in the room—two end tables, a chest of drawers, a desk, and two chairs situated in the corner of the room—appears so consistent in its design that you have to wonder if Price made them by hand as well. Hardly a reason to question it. You think to yourself that you’ll have to ask him how he finds the time only to quickly shake that thought away. Can’t be getting too chummy, certainly not if you don’t expect to be around in a month’s time. Hopefully less than that. 

You chew on your lip at the thought of fleeing in the night.

It trickles into your thoughts while you open your suitcase on the bed and riffle around for your nightwear. Price will likely keep you under lock and key for at least the first week of your marriage, giving you little opportunity to take off any time soon. If only you’d held your tongue and played the demure bride, he might’ve had some cause to trust you. Certainly not now, after your most recent display. 

Your own stupid fault, as usual. It’s not the first time your temper has gotten the better of you. You’ve faced worse consequences for it. 

Outside the window on the far end of the room, a horse whinnies. You pause, remembering that Price hadn’t gone very far. When you glance out curiously, you see him letting the horses into the pen, giving one a good rub down the bridge of its nose. The horses seem to melt under his touch. 

It’s strange watching him from far away. From a distance, it’s hard to reconcile him with the man that bent you over his desk not an hour ago and tanned your bottom. You cringe at the memory. It’s not that Price doesn’t seem like a man that would take his wife over his knee if he saw fit to do so, but you still can’t imagine yourself as that woman. When you think about it, it feels like a play, something you saw happen to someone else. Not you wailing and squirming like a cat in heat. 

As if feeling your stare, he glances up at the window and winks when he catches your eye. With a squeak, you leap away from the window, scurrying back over to the bed. 

A couple hours pass in restless contemplation, practically biting your nails to the quick. Eyeing the windowsill like you still might go over there just to check on what Price is up to outside. You hear him come back into the house once or twice, tensing up at the sound of his boots, only to be left vaguely disappointed when you hear him leave and the screen door slam shut behind him. 

You spend so long holed up in the bedroom that you miss lunch entirely. Below you, you hear Price puttering around downstairs in the kitchen—the sound of a knife chopping vegetables and then the sizzle of meat on a pan. The hunger pangs nearly make you break, but you’ve gone without food before. 

Your heart skips a beat when you hear him ascend the staircase again and place something just outside of your door. He doesn’t try coaxing you out this time, just heads back down the stairs and out the front door. Again, you ignore the pang of disappointment; ignore the urge to open the door and holler down the stairs for him to stay gone. 

He leaves anyway. 

Curiosity needles at you though, so you open the door up a crack when you’re sure you’re alone. There’s a plate at the foot of the door with vegetables and meat, slightly cooled but still fresh, the plate still warm. He must’ve known you wouldn’t try coming downstairs and fixed you up a plate. 

You eat in silence at the desk, bad mood ripening. Angry at yourself and everyone else. Even John. Especially John. The audacity of fixing you up a plate, of thinking of you in the first place. Irritated enough to stand boldly by the window this time, hand clutched in the curtain, tracking the movement of his shoulders and hips when he moves with the horses and fetches water from the well. You lose sight of him a couple times as he finishes up the day’s chores around the house, but the flutter in your belly always settles when he comes back into view. 

It’s easy to let yourself admire him from afar, somehow less humiliating without his eyes on you. He’s a solid man, body carved into its shape from the rough labor that’s part and parcel of living out on the frontier. A wide back tapering down to lean, narrow hips and thick, muscled thighs hewn from lifting and pulling and all manner of physical work. You bite your lip when you remember what it felt like to cling to that back and dig your nails into his arms. 

You give your head a shake. It’s dangerous to let a thought like that latch on. 

In the few hours between lunch and sunset, you occupy yourself by reading one of the books stowed away in your suitcase. Then get bored and refold your clothes. The horses bray when they’re taken into the stables for the evening. The crickets out in the bushes in the yard chirp as the sun sets pink in the far distance. It’s quieter out here in the plains than back in the city, you think, something you haven’t yet had the time to appreciate. 

When Price comes in for the night, you’re firm in your resolve to keep the door shut. If lunch at the door was just an attempt to butter you up, he has another thing coming. In a house this big, there’s likely a guest room or somewhere else to sleep—a sofa or a sleeping bag tucked away under the stairs. He’ll just have to make do while you take the bedroom. There’ll be no sharing a bed with the man that grabbed your backside like a piece of meat. 

He doesn’t come up the stairs right away. Like before, you hear him rustle up supper, spatula scraping against a pan and knife coming down on a chopping block again and again. Not enough time has passed since lunch for you to feel more than peckish. You’re thankful for that when you hear him sit down to eat. 

The knock at the door startles you. You hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. “Ready to talk now?”

You stare balefully at the door. “No.”

“We have to figure this out sometime, darling.”

“No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you a fright earlier, but, honey, that’s how husbands kiss their wives. Nothing improper about it.”

“I’m not frightened, I’m just not—we don’t need to do any of that,” you huff, embarrassed all over again. “You’ve hardly given me any time to even think. I didn’t know you from Adam this morning and now we’re married.”

Price sighs, the sound muffled through the door. “What am I going to do with you, honey?” It’s said to himself, a fond exasperation that puts you on edge all over again. He has no right to be amused with you, no right to be delighted and charmed by your ire. 

“Well, you can sleep somewhere else for the time being. I’d prefer the bed to myself.”

He lets out a low, dark laugh. “There’s not a chance in hell that I’m sleeping anywhere but with my wife from this point on. You oughta come to terms with that quick.”

“Well then, you can sleep out there because I’m not unlocking the door!”

He lets out a mean sound, almost mocking. “Yeah, ‘bout time I addressed that, huh?”

His words make you frown until you hear a floorboard creak as Price does something on the other side of the door. Then the doorknob jiggles. Horrified, you watch as the door unlocks and the knob turns, your husband’s body filling out the door frame. You’d forgotten how well he could fill one out. He almost has to duck to come inside, mused hair from working outside all day brushing against the top of the frame. 

“Always put a key on the top of the door, just in case,” he explains, pinching the little silver key between his thumb and forefinger before shutting the door. Your heart jumps when he locks it behind him. “Ready to talk now, honey?”

[driaswrld]

🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.

🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog

CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *

L'INCOMPARABLE.

Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.

Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.

Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.

Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.

“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.

“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.

“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.

Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.

“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.

Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.

At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.

It was a disastrous first few encounters—

(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )

His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.

Not around you, at least.

“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.

That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.

THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.

Dearest gentle reader,

As all royal scandals do,

It started with an invitation.

We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].

This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.

What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!

Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.

But I assure you,

When it comes to matters of the heart —

Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.

You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.

And yet.

“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.

Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince

Is not the strongest.

“Some nerve you have, boy.”

Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.

You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.

And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.

“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”

Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.

You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.

No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.

“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”

You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.

“She will never be Queen.”

It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.

It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

Three months, thirteen days.

Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.

Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.

Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.

Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.

Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.

“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”

The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.

Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.

You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.

why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me

“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”

The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.

That, and the prize.

The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.

Gentle reader,

The famed jewel for the taking

This summer, is none other than—

“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.

It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .

Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.

“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”

( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )

“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”

She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.

There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.

A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.

—The champion’s jewel,

A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.

The L’Incomparable.

“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.

Three months, thirteen days.

You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.

He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.

It’s eerily similar to your childhood.

“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.

L’Incomparable.

The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.

Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.

A gift he only got to place on her corpse.

Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.

And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.

“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.

“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”

L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.

It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.

A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.

And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.

“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.

“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”

( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )

He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.

“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.

And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.

“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”

He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.

He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.

This urge—

( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )

The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—

( it will pass. )

“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”

Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.

Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.

He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.

“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”

( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )

There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.

And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.

As if you had never been there.

The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.

L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.

Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.

You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.

Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.

It made you giggle.

The palace corridors are bustling with life.

Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.

Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.

“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”

“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.

Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.

Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.

“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”

You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.

His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.

“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”

You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—

“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”

You choke. Audibly.

Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”

“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.

Oh, fair reader, it seems

Our dear protagonist has come upon

A treasure trove of memories.

“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”

Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.

“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”

“Oh, about Prince Geto!”

Dearest reader,

Suguru Geto enters.

A man of great mystique,

the northern Prince.

And striking opposite of

our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.

“Yes! About him—”

Suguru Geto.

In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.

Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.

“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”

( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )

“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?

The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.

“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.

Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.

But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.

And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.

( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )

Faithful reader,

she could not have been

more wrong.

Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.

Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.

You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.

Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.

This time, you’re taken aback.

Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—

There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.

Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.

But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.

It's almost intimate.

When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.

You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.

( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )

˚ ༘ *

The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.

When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?

Wait, why do you even care?

You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.

Darling reader,

it was in fact,

not the tea.

Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.

Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.

One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.

And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!

Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?

( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

is in denial.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.

( oh god, no. )

Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.

“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.

“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”

The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.

You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.

He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.

You don't doubt that.

“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”

“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.

You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.

( oh, the gloves ! )

“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.

Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.

The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.

( what a coincidence. )

˚ ༘ *

Time passes in waves.

People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.

‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’

‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’

‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’

‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’

“Bitter.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.

Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.

The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.

“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”

You think you’d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.

( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )

“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”

When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”

He looks. . . disheveled.

Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—

And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .

( so that's what he was doing. )

“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.

The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?

“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.

“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”

If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.

“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.

“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.

Marriage.

Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”

Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.

“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”

When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.

“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.

Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.

“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.

Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.

But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.

My dearest reader,

brace yourself for the

next publication.

Your kind author

bids you farewell.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

The Wolf's Betrothed

dark!aemond x niece!reader

summary: prepare to be kidnapped by your delulu uncle

A/N: this is based off a request that asked for non-con so this is the closest i've written to it but i still think it's dub-con??? idk pls lmk what you think

TW: MAJOR DUBCON, incest, smut, knife kink, blood kink,, breeding kink, forced marriage, murder

word count: 1,929

You feel content. Cregan Stark is a good, honourable man and he will make a fine husband, is what you continue to repeat in your head as your carriage makes its way to Winterfell. You travel without your family, being sent early to meet your husband to be and you’re nervous. You met few Northernmen on Dragonstone and you fear the cold, but you know it’s for the best. This alliance could be the thing that puts your mother on the throne. Though, as you get closer to your destination, a sense of dread begins to set in. 

That’s when you hear it, the beating of wings, shortly followed by screaming. The carriage comes to a halt so swift that you’re thrown from your seat.

“Princess!” One of your handmaidens exclaims as she helps you back up.

“I-I’m alright.” You say as you find your footing. You make your way to the door. “We must go.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the guards?” The other girl says nervously.

“They’re as good as dead.” You say as you throw open the door. Your men that are left, fight for their lives against the few green soldiers. They don’t need many when they have a dragon. You glance up to the sky and see her… Vhagar.

“Fuck.” You murmur as you hop to the ground, your handmaidens on your tail as you begin to run towards the forest.

You pant as you go, trying not to trip on your long skirts, snow filling your boots. You know you need a plan but the only weapon you have is a small dagger and you’ve never been a great talent in hand-to-hand combat.

You’re close to the treeline now, barely 200 yards away. You know Aemond won’t torch it if he thinks you’re in there. All you have to do is make it. To. The. Treeline.

But you don’t. It goes up in flames in front of you and you have to turn and shield your face from the heat. Your handmaiden, who was in a much less elaborate dress than you, made it further, and she goes up in flames with it. You turn, grabbing the hand of the other girl and begin to go south before you see three men waiting for you. You turn north and begin to run but you don’t make it far before Vhagar lands in front of you.

“No…” You breathe out as you backup, your handmaiden clinging to your arm. You know you’re caught now.

Two men catch up to you and grab you each by the shoulders, giving you no time to draw your dagger as Aemond descends his dragon.

“Dōna mandianna.” (sweet niece) He says as he approaches. “Sepār hae gevie hae nyke mōrī ūndan ao.” (just as beautiful as I last saw you) He tilts your chin up gently.

“Release my bride. You can do as you wish with that one.” He says to his guards as he glances at your handmaiden. The two men grab her.

“Princess, help me!” She cries out as she’s taken away.

“She’s no threat.” You say to your uncle, glaring up at him.

“My men deserve a reward.” He says offhandedly and you begin to wish she had died in the fire as well. You wish you died in the fire. His hand comes up to caress your face. “I have missed you.”

“I miss my brother.” You say with hate in your eyes.

“Hmm, an unfortunate circumstance.” He replies.

“Kinslayer.” You spit out at him.

He sighs and puts his hand on the small of your back. He is courteous with you, for now, as he leads you toward Vhagar. You let him, biding your time. He straps you in in front of him, his fingers gentle with you, as if you are the most precious thing he has ever laid his hands on.

No chance to jump then. You think to yourself, wishing you could’ve taken him with you once Vhagar was high enough to make the fall fatal.

You don’t speak to each other as he takes you closer to Winterfell. You look solemnly at the scorched land. It’s a pity to see, especially since it is the start of Spring. It should have been the start of new life, not the end of it. He holds his hand out to help you down the dragon and you accept it, glad that he chose not to make you grovel. You know he could. You know he’s not above such things. He keeps his hand on the small of your back as he leads you through the castle, the place crawling with Greens.

You arrive at Lord Stark’s chambers, Aemond letting you in. You’re slightly surprised when you don’t see Cregan but you think perhaps that your uncle is keeping him in the dungeons instead. “And what of my husband?” Aemond freezes when you use the word. 

“That cunt wasn’t your husband.” He says lowly.

“Wasn’t or isn’t?” You ask, not fully believing that he would kill the lord of Winterfell. You back up slightly. Aemond may be in front of the door but you wish to put some distance between you.

“I would not let them trap you with that mutt.” He says as he steps forward. You step back. “You deserve someone worthy of your status.”

“Aemond…” You breathe out, your eyes well with tears.

“It was always meant to be you and I. I’ll take care of you… I love you.” His eye gleams, his words full of possession.

You’re aware that you’ll only have this one chance so you reach for the sheathed dagger. You know you can’t kill him, but you can break him. You lift the blade to your throat in one quick motion but it’s too late, Aemond’s hand is on yours before you can break skin. He yanks the dagger from your hand and throws it to the side.

“Why would you do that!” He looks manic, frightened as he holds your wrists in his hands.

“Cregan!” You cry out as a last resort. You know it’s futile but it’s the only thing you can think of. “Cregan!”

Your uncle slams a hand over your mouth, hot rage in his eyes. “Stop screaming for him! He’s dead! I killed him.” His other hand falls to your waist. “If it is a husband you yearn for, I can fix that.” He takes the hand off your mouth to grab his own dagger.

“I don’t want any husband. I want him!” You slam your fists against Aemond’s chest.

“No you don’t!” He shouts back and he shifts behind you, pulling your back to his front, holding his dagger to you with one hand and your chin with the other. “It is that silly feminine loyalty. But don’t worry, it will be towards me soon enough.” 

He holds your face tightly and lifts the dagger to your lip, cutting ever so gently. Just enough to get a drip of blood. He lets you break yourself free and run to the door so he can slit his own lip. You yank on the door handle but it’s locked and before you can even turn, Aemond’s hand is in your hair, pulling your mouth towards his. The kiss is messy and bloody but by Old Valyrian standards, you are wed. Your uncle barely gives you a chance to come up for air as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You whimper slightly as he sucks on your lip, mixing your blood further. 

“You didn’t think I was going to bed you without making you my wife first, did you?” He says so softly, the kind look in his eyes misplaced. “I would never do that to you.”

“Please don’t.” You beg him.

“Why must you look so frightened? I only want to make love to you, to my bride.” He moves behind you, nimble fingers undoing your dress. “I don’t like it when you fight with me. I want us to be happy.” He tugs the gown down so you’re only in your shift. Just the sight of your ankles, your shoulders is enough for him to go crazy with lust. He can feel himself growing in his trousers the longer he looks at you. “My beautiful girl, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” (my bride) He coos, mesmerized by you.

You’re pulled in for another kiss and you nip at his lip. He groans as he parts his mouth from yours.

“Be gentle with me and I shall do the same with you.” You know it’s a warning, a warning that you should most definitely heed. “We will have more time to play later, darling but for now, we must consummate immediately.” He says as he leads you to the bed by your hand. He places a palm on your tummy. “I shall pray to the Gods’ that my seed takes tonight.”

“Of course, husband.” Your voice is emotionless but he still seems pleased by your words.

He smiles and then lifts off your shift. His cold fingertips trace over your breasts and collarbones, and down to your navel before he hooks them on your small clothes and pulls them down. “Your beauty is unmatched, my love” He says as his eye runs over your body. “Lie down on the bed for me.” He watches you walk and obey as he undoes his trousers. Your husband doesn’t take any of his clothes off, only pulling his cock out and beginning to pump it as he gazes at you. You’re nervous as he is incredibly well-endowed but you are inclined to believe that he won’t be rough with you.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He says as he climbs between your legs, noticing your fear. “It won’t hurt for long.” He takes a moment to rub his cockhead over your cunt, using his precum as lube before slipping in.

You gasp at the intrusion, the feeling of your maidenhead breaking as he defiles you but he doesn’t move at first, only peppering kisses across your face that are almost… comforting?

“I’m going to move now.” He says and begins to slide in and out, causing you to wince.

“Not yet, it hurts…” You say to him but he just runs his thumb over the cut on your lip.

“You can take it, darling.” He replies as he thrusts in and out of you. He licks the blood off his thumb before using it to rub your clit. You hate how you enjoy the feeling. “Good girl.” He says as he begins to pick up speed. He rubs harder, clearly far too close to cumming himself and not wanting to be the only one. “I love you.”

You turn your head away as he says it and he begins to fuck into you harder, pinching your clit now and causing you to scream. If he can’t make you love him, then he can just make you cum. 

As soon as he feels you begin to squeeze your walls around him, he finishes, sheathing his cock as deep as he can inside of you in hopes of breeding you.

“My perfect wife.” He admires as he runs his fingers through your hair. He presses a kiss to your lips before resting his head on your breasts so he can listen to your heartbeat.

You lie there, confused. Part of you wants him to fuck you again, the other part hopes he falls asleep so you can drive his own dagger through his heart.

Oh the woes of newlyweds.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

[asongoficeandfiresource]

“Cool breezes, sparkling water, and the laughter of children. The Water Gardens are my favorite place in this world, ser. One of my ancestors had them built to please his Targaryen bride and free her from the dust and heat of Sunspear. Daenerys was her name. She was sister to King Daeron the Good, and it was her marriage that made Dorne part of the Seven Kingdoms. The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeron’s bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn, but the king was wise enough to see that the good of thousands must come before the desires of two, even if those two were dear to him. It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer’s day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day.”  - The Watcher, ADWD

A Song of Ice and Fire Calendar 2025 || The Water Gardens by Eddie Mendoza

[vaggietheangel]

Charlie, the type of girl to open her window and shout "Good morning, world!" Then have someone say "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" And respond with "Spread love not hate."

Vaggie the type of girl to say "I don't get sick. My body is terrified of me." When she very clearly has the worst flu in existence that could kill a member of the ars goetia.

Husk the type of guy to say "I had to cross blazing winds and scorching deserts. Climb mountains and fight off sharks! " When describing how he got to school as a young boy.

Niffty the type of girl to ask "why would someone invent that?" When she hears about drowning machine rivers.

Sir pentious the type of guy to collect an army of graden gnomes, and gets very angry whenever someone touches them.

Angel Dust the type of guy to be performing at a bachelor party, and when the bride crashes it and screams at him and the girls to get out he says "Uh, I'm still getting paid for this right? Thanks." When a bunch of money is thrown in his face.

Alastor the type of guy to drink a glass of warm milk before bed.

Mimzy the type of girl to jump into someone's arms and chatter her teeth when she gets scared.

Cherri bomb the type of girl to say "There's not enough room in this ring for the both of us." To her enimies.

Lucifer the type of guy to see something bad on the news and say "Yoooure gonna wanna see this."

[fhrlclln]

beautiful strangers | yao

SUMMARY -> in a moment of relaxation by the pool, you think about your wellness assistant. and he happens to be thinking about you too, more than he had denied himself of the thought.

yao x fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> leaving his relationship w/ masha & delilah ambiguous here (open to interpretation), mentions of drugs & nonconsensual drugging, sexual tension, inner conflicts, protected p in v, oral sex (both!reaciving) & fingering.

WC -> 6.89k

a/n: once again, i have only watched about 4 episodes. lmaoo. don’t know if yao is ooc in this but focus on the sexual tension cuz i certainly had the time on writing it!! hope you all liked thisss

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

the sun hits your skin nicely, as the pool water cools it.

you let out a relaxed sigh, loving that you’re the only one in the community pool right now, swimming alone. by swimming, just floating around until the tips of your toes and fingers wrinkle. to say you actually like your stay here in the elusive but beautiful house of tranquillum. as skeptical as you are with their ways of… healing. the resort’s commodities and nature make up for it. a wellness retreat was not part of your plans, but you needed a break from all the recent stress that has been going on in your life. so, when you heard of a remote wellness retreat in california, why not? nothing would go wrong with surrounding yourself with these… spiritual healers?

your feet splash lightly in the water, and you adjust yourself on the pool noodle that’s helping you stay afloat. your rayband sunglasses sit perfectly on the bride of your nose, shielding your eyes from the scorching sun’s rays of light. your thoughts are dead silent; the water and sun are the only things you feel. but now it drifts carelessly to a certain man you cannot stop thinking about since your stay here.

pale honey skin, face defined and chiseled, dark brown eyes that turn into a honey-brown color when it hits the sun, voice soft and gentle, lips rosy and kissable, muscled arms, and long black hair that's always tied in a man-bun.

god, you crave for the man.

your thighs rub against each other at the thought of him. by him, yao- your wellness assistant in this retreat. oh, eyes were immediately drawn to him, you remembered. how soft and light his voice was when he greeted you with a smile. namaste.

he was pretty in the eyes, but you weren't that incredibly deprived to want to do anything with him. you merely treat him as some other pretty commodity the tranquillum offers. one for you to stare at when he isn't looking, or you don't care if he is looking either way. you only had about 8 days left in the retreat. what was the point of throwing yourself to an attractive staff of the place? you just decided that admiring him would be enough and that the thought of him satiates your fantasies the nights you have gone to bed, coming undone thinking of him.

the pattern of footsteps makes your head tilt up as a mischievous grin settles on your face. the man you were just thinking of greets you with a smile in return.

"a quick swim before the banquet?" he starts off lightly, seeming amused at how fast you were to lounge in the pool after returning from doing the activity in the forest. earth-day, as they all coined it.

"mhm." you nod, relaxing your head again on the pool noodle.

"how was earth-day for you?" ah, there he goes with his questions. you amusingly think as you let out a relaxed sigh.

"very nurturing. naturey." you merely answer, shrugging. "then i swam naked in a river with delilah."

he lets out a chuckle. your eyes beneath your sunglasses follow his every move as he walks by the pool's edge, scrunching up his pants to his knees as he sits down now, his feet dangling in the water. he looks a little tense, but he hid it pretty well.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, letting the pool noodles on your head and feet go as you splash against the water. you stand on your tiptoes, water leveled to your chin as you removed your glasses to look at him. he masks his surprise at your question as he shakes his head, still showing you a small smile on his lips. you reel into that.

“nothing.” he answered you. “i hoped the activity made you want to open yourself to us. as you opened yourself to nature.”

“i did.” you quietly said, remembering the conversation you had in the jacuzzi. though, you weren’t the one opening up to anyone, you were there just to hear it.

yao looks at you, uncertain what to say next. usually, there’s a script in his mind from how long he has been working here, and treating guests, like you. except, you weren’t the same as everyone else. he had observed this, so had masha, you were like a tough nut to crack. always masking yourself in this mysterious but comforting persona, deflecting easily whatever words of comfort they say. but that wasn’t the thing that troubles him now.

you look like a siren seducing him in the blue pristine water.

the moment you stepped in the tranquillum, he couldn’t stop thinking about how your eyes stared at him. how your lashes fluttered when you said namaste back to him. how easy and kind you are not to argue with him when he had to kindly take your phone. how carefree and curious you are to explore the resort. but he admires your strong will not to tell what you were suffering. not even masha could spill it out of you.

he craves to know that… he craves to heal it. he craves to hear your vulnerable voice tell him what troubled you, and why you were here. he imagines you’d cry, then he’ll hold you in his arms while he soothes you with his words of comfort and healing. you’ll thank him with puffy eyes and tear-stained lips.

“you’re staring.” you say, swimming towards him. he holds his breath for a moment, you are now a bit closer to him. your face just a mere step away from his legs submerged in the water. indeed, you look like a siren eyeing her prey to a lonely and gullible sailor. the sailor being him.

“apologies.” he merely says again. it troubles him to think of the desire pooling in him as you smiled at him. you were a guest, he was your wellness consultant. what would masha think of him now?

“we’re beautiful strangers, aren’t we?” you suddenly say, as you swam to the pool steps, ready to get out. your body swayed a bit with each step you took. his eyes stared at the dripping water from your hips to your thighs running down to your bare legs. he rakes his gaze further up slowly, appreciating how the ray of orange light from the horizon hitting your skin perfectly. how that subtle slow drip of water from your chin goes down to your neck then to the swell of your bikini-covered chest.

“don’t worry.” you say with a whisper as you got out of the pool, grabbing your towel as you wrapped it around you. he snaps out of his trance, looking away from you for a moment, ashamed. have you noticed his stare again?

you tilt your head inquisitively to the side, putting on a subtle sly grin. “i like to stare at beautiful things too.”

he looks back into your eyes, his heart beating loudly. he feels like you can see through and that frightens him a bit. before he could say something, you leave him there alone. but you don’t leave his mind not once as he runs his hand across his face. the water freezes his calfs as he grits his jaw, trying his hardest not to think about you again. he closes his eyes, opting to meditate now for a bit, hoping it would clear his mind.

he doesn’t want to think about you again.

・゜゜・．

the banquet was something. it started off as fun the first part, all the guests danced around the bonfire. he smiles, dancing with delilah for a bit then choosing to just stay put and watch the other guests have fun. yet… you were not here as he looks around slyly. hoping his other co-workers wouldn’t notice his frequent scan of the entire area. but luckily, it wasn’t just him noticing your absence.

“have you seen her?” delilah asked beside him in whisper, pertaining to you. “masha is about to arrive.”

“no. i haven’t.” he says, usually he would have an answer than he doesn’t know. delilah stares at him confusingly, and he lets out a sigh. “i’ll fetch her in her room.”

“all right.” she thanked him as he headed back to where your private lodgings were. the lights were dim as he walked through the familiar hallway to your room. the curtains are still drawn up, making the moonlight seep in as he hears your voice, humming a relaxed tune.

he takes a short inhale, readying himself as the lights come from your room near his periphery. the first thing he notices when he enters the threshold is you, sitting by the vanity, putting on a rogue lipstick on your soft lips. his heart starts to beat into a familiar rhythm that bugged him. you were focused on applying the satin red lipstick on your lips, meticulously perfecting how it would look. he doesn't say anything in greeting but the moment your eyes meet his through the mirror, he goes quiet. and you smiled in greeting.

"is the banquet starting?" your soft voice echoes through the room. he leans on the wall next to him, crossing his arms.

"yes. dinner is about to start." your eyes focused on where the bulge of his muscles and veins on his arms peek out. he's wearing a white button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows and his hair tied as usual.

"sorry." you grinned, putting down your lipstick as you quickly did a final retouch before standing up. "party must be missing out on all the fun if you're here to escort me there."

he chuckles at that as his eyes rake over your figure. you're wearing a long dress that hugs your curves, the leopard print you chose to wear for tonight, something bold and daring. you seem to catch his eyes as you walk towards him then motioning to your dress.

"do i look good?" you asked, and he immediately looked up to your grinning face. the crimson stain on your lips entices him. he feels somewhat dizzy all of a sudden. he doesn't know if it's the wine that's affecting him or... just you.

"you look beautiful." he says, his tone a bit lower and intimate. as if you were his lover he's appreciating. even though you were just a stranger to him that he felt oddly too connected with. we're beautiful strangers, aren't we? your words echoed in his head, his chest rises as he blinks, trying to focus ahead of the protocol and such.

"thank you." your smile didn't leave your face as you neared him, ready go to the banquet. "let's go."

your bare arm brushes against his skin for a moment, and your sweet scent fills his nostrils making his whole control snap. the look of your eyes flash through his mind, knowing and seducing him. the way you looked at him in the pool, he knew you were feeling the same as him. before you could even get past him, he immediately grabbed your elbow, making you let out a noise of surprise.

"is there something wrong-" your question dies down from your lips when you stare into his dark eyes. how close your face is to his. you can clearly see something stirring inside those dark brown orbs. yao 's brow furrowed, and suddenly, he felt panic arise in him about how close he was to you.

"oh..." you say and your head cocks to the side. you seem to piece something together as you only say something that triggered him now.

"don't hold back." you softly whispered, as if you knew the fight he had with himself to not let his irrational thoughts come alive. it's as if the roles were reversed, he wasn't the one consoling a guest crumbling with their inner self. you were the one now softly telling him to let go.

"i-" he stutters, trying to apologize, but your lips gently brush against his. his hold on your arm tightens, and you merely grin at him as he surges forward. all careful resistance for you in him is gone.

soft. he thinks, as his lips land on yours. addicting. his hands went down to your waist as you eagerly reciprocated back. choosing to place your hands on his chest, feeling for his loud heartbeat. his eyes are tightly shut, still feeling rigid. how all of this feels wrong. he shouldn't be kissing you. he shouldn't be kissing a guest when his main purpose is to help you get well. where was his mantra? where did it go? all the rules he set for himself are now gone in this moment. how your lips moved heatedly against his are the only thing on his mind.

his body moves on its own accord. desperate to hold you close to him. your warm body pressing against his. his mind cries in pain. telling himself to stop, but he can't. your little noises between kisses has his whole core shaking. how sweet your lips tasted, how perfect his hands roam carefully around your curves. he imagines this moment, that this was a normal day he had back when he wasn't involved with masha. that you were his date that night and he's kissing you until you beg for him to join him in your room. that this was all not happening in the tranquillum. that he's just a normal guy, kissing a beautiful woman. not a man who blindly schemed with a woman who claims to make suffering people find peace in their 10-day wellness journey.

but the fantasy disperses when you pull away from him.

there's a moment of silence when you just look at him. he licks his lips, tasting your lipstick on his tongue. he feels his whole body shudder when he sees your perfectly stained rogue lips are now slightly smudged. he looks back, looking deflated, and he realizes he did something wrong. would masha see this? knowing she has a lot of security cameras hiding in every part of the tranquillum. every guest is monitored. he squeezes your hips, looking away from you with shame enveloping him entirely.

"you should go ahead." you say, always ahead of him before he could say something. he stiffens, dropping his hands from your hips. his hands clenching momentarily before he forces them to dangle by his sides. you merely smiled at him again. not once did a flash of regret like he has appeared on your face. you enjoyed it. "wipe your lips before you go. i'm going to fix my lipstick again."

he winces at that. "that was inappropriate of me. i-i... apologize." he says, pertaining to the kiss. his head hangs low as your hand on his chest pulls back, and he almost wants to place it back there again. above his beating heart.

"don't worry. i'm glad you didn't hold back." you said before moving away from him to go back to your vanity. you leave him there in his own shame. he forces himself to walk out of your room, wiping his hands over his lips harshly. it stained his fingertips, and that made him want to run away. but he chooses to stay in the lobby. his mind is clouded and he wants to bury himself in the soil. and a question in his mind hangs around in the air.

was he glad that he didn't hold back?

eventually, both of you arrive shortly before masha could arrive. yao still had the decency to help you sit next to frances. pulling your chair back like the gentleman he is. but he doesn't make eye contact with you, fearing others might realize what you two did in your room if he looked at you. your face remained the same, face neutral as if no problem had occurred. your lips are perfectly red, without any evidence of the smudge he did on them. he's suddenly self-conscious, wondering if others could see the light red stain on his own lips.

masha arrives, and she greets them all. yao helps her to her seat as he stands beside her while she does her opening words for the banquet. you watch with observing eyes, gaze flickering back to yao. he feels your eyes on him, his own resolve crumbling for a moment as he looks back at you wearily.

before all of you can sit down, masha looks at you with amusement dazzling in her eyes. you look back at her as she turns to yao momentarily. he's silent from what you can see from your distance. she looks at you again, something in her piercing blue eyes telling you that she knows something. it doesn't bother you as you merely smile back, a little wider than usual. his jaw clenches when he notices the eye contact between you and masha.

it seems his appetite for roasted goat is subtly gone now, and shame and desire are filling his stomach.

the night doesn't end for everyone. after the fun in the banquet died down when masha was asked if she was medicating all of the guests, and she reluctantly told the truth. microdosing apparently. when those words left her mouth and her justification that this has been a protocol they have been formulating for the past years, and you didn't want to hear any more of it. you stood up, leaving them to argue with themselves. yao had watched you leave, saying you were going to turn in for the night. no one had argued back, their attention solely on masha, who they were furious with for the moment. there, he sees a flicker of something other than a smile or amusement across your face. he almost wants to follow you, a nervousness in him thinking that your view of him has changed. not that it should matter to him, he was just a part of helping all of the guests- including you, get well.

but he remained glued to his spot. listening to masha talking to troy and the others, defending herself. eventually, all guests started to leave the table, upset at the fact they were illegally drugging them without their consent. a hand lightly touches his. he looks at masha as she smiles.

"give her some time." she says, her accent thick and comforting. "and try again." he ponders at that, knowing she was pertaining to you. but nonetheless, he obeys masha.

"i will." he gulps.

・゜゜・．

he doesn't know how many hours have passed as he stares at the ceiling of his room. the wind gently breezes in from his opened window. the wind chimes by the door gently making a sound along the breeze of the cold night. his mind is in disarray, flickering back and forth to the thoughts of you. to your lips, your body against his, your smudged lipstick that stained your chin because of him, and your face at that moment in the banquet.

you were upset.

he knows it. how your eyes subtly lost that amusement and curiosity and turned into a profound show of betrayal. what caused that reaction? he wonders. it was obvious that if he were a guest and he was presented with the information of being non-consensually drugged- or medicated... he would be upset. but that wasn't the problem; he knew you'd be much more amused based on how you have been acting since you arrived here. as masha had said to him, you were something. you had no background information whatsoever on past traumas... you just came here... for fun?

his brows furrowed as he sat up, his hair tousled and messy. he runs his fingers through his locks, something in him beckoning him to go to you. he needs to know what you were truly here for. and, most importantly... why did you let him kiss you? was it for fun as well? he wonders as he picks his shirt up on the chair and stands up. he hastily puts it on, grabbing his flashlight, no hesitation now to go to you. he doesn't care if masha or delilah or the others would question him tomorrow. he just needs to know...

what hurts you?

it was a grueling walk to get to your lodgings. each step he took had him wondering if this impulse he was acting out on was right. certainly, he knew kissing you wasn't right. he was your wellness consultant, you were a guest. what happened between you two was a mistake. he's sure of that... or is he?

his view of your place comes into view, the lights are out but your backdoor was opened, and he suddenly stops in his steps. he shouldn't. his mind roars, and he almost turns back until...

"yao?" your soft voice comes from somewhere. he stiffens, head immediately looking to where you are. he sees you slowly emerge from the darkness in front of him. his flashlight illuminates your figure, he sees that you're wearing a cotton robe that's opened to reveal your silk black nightgown. he gulps, guessing you wanted a late-night walk.

"can't sleep?" he asks, and you nod, crossing your arms due to the cold breeze.

"what are you doing here?" you eye him curiously.

"just..." he tries to lie, but he can't anymore. "i think we should talk inside your room." he immediately says, going closer to you to grab your wrist. you don't say anything but let him drag you back inside your private lodgings through the backdoor that's opened. once you two are inside, he closes it shut, drawing the curtains to really get some privacy. he turns to you, readying himself but you surprise him again.

"i like your hair like this." you softly said, fingers touching the stray strands of his long hair that are not bound by a hair tie on the side of his face. his chest rises at the sensation of your hand brushing gently against his cheek. he grips your hand softly in return, not swatting it away.

"the kiss..."

"...was a mistake?" you grinned. "didn't feel like a mistake, though."

he stutters yet again, slowly lowering your hand down but not letting go. and then, his eyes suddenly catch the smoothie he made for you earlier before the banquet. not an ounce was drunk, and was just sitting perfectly on your bedside table, right where he had placed it.

"you didn't drink it." he says and your grin slowly disappears at that.

"i don't like the drugs in it." you say, and he realizes that you must have known much earlier than all of the guests about the microdosing.

"you don't have to worry. it's completely legal, and we tailor it to your health records. so the dosage we give you is perfectly fine-"

"i still don't want it in me." your words are sharp. and there, he can see that flicker of sadness in your eyes.

"...would you like to tell me why?" he gently asks, going in slow to ease you out. you shake your head.

"it doesn't matter."

"it matters to me." he says, his thumb caressing your skin. you look away now, shrugging. he waits patiently. "your wellness is my concern."

“so drugging me is part of that?” your brows furrow.

“medicating you- it’s different. it’s part of the protocol masha has implemented to all guests here.” he explained. but there is a moment of doubt for that. he believes that masha planned this for a greater cause.

“how is that normal?” your voice grows thick, you’re about to say something else but you hold back. yao frowns at that. “just… forget about it. i don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“talking helps.” he whispered. “what troubles you with this?”

there’s a moment of hesitation seen on your face. you inhale sharply, ignoring his soft look he has on. a look that brings comfort, an easy facade he takes to get a guest to let it all out.

“…why did you hold back before kissing me?” you suddenly asked. his facade breaks momentarily. he almost got it out of you. but you knew well to play this game.

“that’s…- we’re talking about you.”

“well it is you kissing me.”

he sighs, wanting to end this right now. but no, he came here for one thing. and that one thing is you.

“i… i don’t know.” he stutters.

“you know.” you push on. his mind is in a loop again. for a moment, you watch him fight his inner self again.

“you’re something.” he finally confessed. “something that i can’t understand. something so new to me. you came here so different from all the other guests. not struggling, not crying on the first day… and that made me feel too intrigued with you. you don’t weep, don’t say nothing what troubles you.” he takes a breath before finally saying it, looking deep into your eyes.

“you have been in my mind all day and night since you came here.”

“is that a bad thing?” your lashes fluttered, your voice is making him in a trance as you take a step closer to him.

“it is.” he gulps. “you’re a guest. that ruins the protocol-“

“but you still chose to kiss me.”

“it was out of impulse.“

“but you let go.” you argued and he nods at that.

“i did.” he nods again. he feels like a fool now, oh how the tables have turned. you had the upper hand again.

“kiss me again.” you lift your chin up, how close your face is to his in this moment. he shuddered, his other hand goes to your hip unconsciously. he shakes his head and you smiled, lips so close to his. your hot breath fanning against his chin.

“and to be fair…” you whispered, looking down at his trembling lips. “you have been on my mind since day one as well, yao.”

and there his whole world crumbled. he kisses you, forgetting everything he had meticulously planned. it wasn’t soft as before. he kisses you like he’s a man desperate for everything. you kissed him back eagerly. your mouth slightly opens and he pushes his tongue in, holding you close as you grabbed the fabric of his loose shirt. gripping it tight as you start to walk backwards to your bed, leading him there. his brows furrow, knowing where this would all lead.

fuck it.

fuck it all. fuck the protocol. and all the justification he has in his head that this would lead to utter chaos. fuck what masha thinks about this. he hastily breaks the kiss for a moment, clutching his shirt as he messily takes it off him. your eyes gaze down to see his perfectly toned chest and abdomen. you can’t help but let your hand caress his skin. he looks at you with a tender expression, seeing how you wanted him so bad as well.

“i want you.” you whispered. “don’t think of anything. just think of us.” you tell him softly and he nods. he can do that.

he then watches you take a step back. shrugging your robe off, letting it fall to the floor. his eyes rake over your figure, your nipples peaking through the thin fabric of satin. he waits, seeing your fingers fiddle with the lace straps as you let it fall off your shoulders. and the rest came falling down to the floor. you smirk, beckoning him to come closer.

you stand there, naked as ever. his cock stirs in his cotton pants, you had no underwear beneath that nightgown, and that made him surge forward to kiss you again. his large hands went to your bare hips, motioning you to jump up. and you did, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grips your plump ass. fuck, you felt to soft in his arms. how your bare chest pressed warmly against his. his heart beats loudly as he walks towards your large bed, plopping you down gently while he immediately hovers above you.

“so pretty.” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose down to your lips, chin, then to the appetizing bare neck. you let out a soft sigh of pleasure, your hand caressing his broad back as he littered kisses and bites on your neck.

“you’re pretty.” you grinned, your other hand going downwards to his pants. he lets you pull it down with his help, tossing it to the floor as well. his cock springs out and he sighs heavenly when your hand brushes his tip for a moment.

“we’re beautiful strangers, right?” he mirrors your words. you laugh at that, how fitting it is that you two are still complete strangers to one another in this very moment.

“we are.” you smiled and everything feels like a fever dream.

he explores your body with tenderness. kissing his way down of your bare body. treating you like a goddess that has graced him with this blessing of letting him have you. his lips trace against the peak of your breasts, kissing them softly while he descends down to kiss the soft flesh of your abdomen. he praises you all the way, loving the way you let little moans out of his name. his big hands grip your thighs, ushering you to open up. wanting to see the prize between your legs.

you obeyed him, spreading your legs wide open as he is blessed with the sight of you glistening before him. his mouth waters, kissing your inner thigh. he eagerly moves down to kiss the center of your cunt. you shudder at his ministrations, and he smiles at that, kissing your wet entrance again. the taste of you having him go wild. how sweet and delectable you are. he’s like eve in the moment, the forbidden apple the devil presented her seduces her to taste it… to eat it.

and he did. he sins, lapping your glistening cunt before him. sucking your clit while he alternates to lapping his tongue on your vulva. you moaned, gripping his long locks. bucking your hips up at the wave of pleasure he’s doing. you’re so wet for him, he almost wants to pull away and shove himself in you, knowing he’ll slide in so easily. he licks, he sucks, he hungers, but it doesn’t satiate him. he wants more- oh, how greedy he is.

his free hand joins in. one finger prodded in your clenching entrance. he works his magic, making you whine out his name. you’re so tight against his finger. his cock stirs, his other hand going down to touch himself while he eats you out and fingering you at the same time. sweat glistens both of your bodies. your back arches when the tip of his fingers hits a spot in you while he sucks your clit. you seem to can’t take it anymore as you wiggled your hips wildly.

he stops, sensing your distress. he detaches his face from your cunt, all his willpower to sit up on his knees as he licked his lower lip. you blink lazily, seeing his chin shine with your wetness. his fingers are still rubbing your stimulated pussy. his chest rises as you move to sit up. your eyes are focused, focused on his cock in his other hand.

“come here.” you command him and he obeys. you then swat his hand away from his prick, your soft hand replacing his and he groans at that. you pump him slowly, you wet your lips as you tentatively lick his tip. his head tilted back, bucking his hips up at the sensation of your tongue.

“fuck… you’re-“ his words are cut off when you take him in your mouth. your tongue swirls around his tip and he grips the back of your head as you then start to take him all in your mouth. he was so big, he wonders if you’ll swallow him whole. you moan, it vibrates through him as he thrusted his hips up, making you gag. but you don’t falter, you just take a deep breath as you suck him off now.

“baby… god, that feels so good.” he says, trying to stay still as you did your magic. “you’re so good.”

you bob your head back and forth, sucking him off. your tongue swirling around as you hollow your cheeks. your other hand gripped the remaining length that’s remaining while your other grips his sack. his eyes are watering, he bites his lip hard as he pushes your head forward. you gag, and he moans out your name. he’s almost there but he doesn’t want to end this yet.

he gently moves back, you whine when his cock slips out of your mouth. he gently ushered you to lay back down. you obeyed him, laying on your back. he slots himself between your legs, gripping his wet cock but he goes rigid. you sense his distress as you grinned, motioning to your bedside drawer.

“i have some condoms in there.” you reassured him. he nods, relieved as he hastily goes to get it. he’s amused you brought condoms, and he wonders why.

“always ready, huh?” he teased and you roll your eyes at him.

“you never know.” you say with a low sultry tone. he chuckles, ripping the coil cover off as he fishes the condom out. he rolls it on his cock as he comes back to you. he pumps himself, his whole shame was gone now as he rubs his tip against your vulva.

“yao…” you moaned. he positions himself, propping himself on his elbow beside your head. his other hand guides him to enter you slowly. your back arched as you feel him fill you up. he kisses you again, this time as soft as the first time you two kissed. he shuddered at the sensation of your walls welcoming him warmly.

he closes his eyes at the sensation as he bottoms himself in you. he lets out a noise of pleasure as your hands gripped his biceps. and there, everything feels perfect. he starts a rhythm, a slow one, grinding himself as you clench around him. he opens his eyes now, wanting to see your face. your brows are furrowed, not the ones of sadness, but of the pleasure he’s giving you. his heart is beating loudly as he thrusts in and out of you.

your bodies move against each other. kisses are shared and words of praises are thrown back. the sensation of sweat and warmth of both your bodies makes it all the more satisfying. both of you are focused to each other. he’s forgetting for a moment that he’s in the tranquillum. that he’s just making sweet love to you in his apartment back in l.a. that you are just his lovely girlfriend, and he’s not your wellness consultant at the moment. just a normal night.

but that fantasy will soon end as he pounds into you. his release is almost there and doesn’t want to cum yet. your moans are getting louder, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he sucks your nipple. he thrusts in you more roughly, fucking you into completion. his hair dangling, brushing against your warm cheeks. he lets out a strained moan, feeling you clench around him tight as you cum wildly. fuck, he can feel your juices coat his cock as he pounds into you. how warm you are as he feels himself nearing his high.

he doesn’t want this moment to end.

god, he hoped this was a dream. a dream that will have him forgetting about it tomorrow. but he knows better as his last thrust has him moaning your name out. his orgasm hits him hard, filling in the condom as his chest heaves. everything dies down as he let himself savor the moment of him inside you. your breaths are heavy, and he forces himself to pull himself out as you whined at that. he gently hushes you, kissing your lips and cheeks. he weakly lays beside you now on your bed. the cool cotton sheets helping him relax.

you then proceeded to snuggle against him. he welcomes you in his arms, your head laying on his chest as you rest your leg around his lower abdomen. his hand caresses your bare back as you two just lay in silence. he just looks up to the ceiling, not knowing what to feel. you seem to sense his stirring distress as your hand caressed his sweaty chest.

what will masha think of him now? that question repeats in his head.

“she knows.” you suddenly say. he stiffens at that as his hand on your back stops its movements. he looks down at you and you look back at him, and for a moment he sees your eyes gaze to the corner. he follows your gaze, seeing the potted big plant in the corner of your room. the glint of something in there making him feel nervous.

“i know.” he nods, sighing to himself as he caresses your back again. your bare body against his the only thing keeping the running thoughts in his mind go away. there’s a slight tension between you two until you break it.

“…my friend was addicted to drugs back then. that’s why i don’t like it.” you suddenly confessed. he blinks at that, his stomach fluttering at your sudden words.

“are you scared of consuming it?” he asks and you nod. you have a look of regret plastered across your face.

“not back then…” you shrugged. “i was young. wanted to try new things and… i got her into it.” he listens, as you tell him about what you had experienced years ago. you don’t cry in his arms just like he imagined when you finally told him what was bothering you about the microdosing. you just talk… without that barrier between you being a guest and him being your wellness consultant. and that makes him feel somewhat more contented than ever. he as well opens up to you. it has been a long time since he talked to someone in a normal way about what happened in his life before he had saved masha from her gunshot wound as an emt back then. the normalcy of just having a casual conversation, it just…

it felt right.

and his own fight with his inner self dies down. you’re now sleeping soundly in his arms. he’s still awake but the lull of drowsiness is telling him to rest. he snuggles his face against the back of your neck. his arm wrapped securely around your waist as he looks at the smoothie you didn’t drink this day. he has an inkling feeling all his beliefs he put on for the tranquillum and masha are starting to change.

and in the morning, he doesn’t put anything in your smoothie or meals, forgetting the protocol all together.

・゜゜・．

you watch in silence from a distance, the night’s wind breezes past your face as the blaring red and blue lights of cop cars come into view. you watch as masha is taken in, looking euphoric, as if she’s happy to be taken away by the police, in peace. you merely let out a small smile watching the chaos drizzle down. it was fun to watch all the things that happened in these past 10 days of wellness. before masha could get in the cop car, she looked to where you were standing and offered you a kind smile of goodbye. you smile back, waving, even though you still don’t like her.

it was somehow melancholic in a sense of how this all ended. despite the drugs, the deceiving and the sketchy things masha have done, it did however made all the guests here- actually find peace in the end of suffering. although, for you, it was almost like a funny story you watched in the distance.

you clutch your cotton robe around you, feeling the chillness in the air. your eyes wandered to where a figure was walking towards you, and your smile widens as yao stops a few feet away from you.

“is this a goodbye?” you start, tilting your head to the side a bit as you gauge his reaction. he looks solemn, as if there’s a weight on his shoulders that has finally disappeared.

“if you want to.” he puts his hands inside his pockets, the cold air seeming to affect him as well. his tone is soft but there’s a slight sound of hope in there towards you. your eyes sparkled at his words, he steps closer to you and you stay in your place. your heart beating with anticipation.

“well…” you say as he takes your hand into his, looking deeply in your eyes. “it’s a good thing i don’t want to.” you whisper into the night and he smiles.

“i’m glad.” he softly says as he raises your hand to press a chaste kiss on top of it. you don’t say anything else, liking the comforting silence, you intertwined your hand with his as you both start walking back to the resort, hand in hand.

and this weird trip you went to, did earn you a happy ending as well.

[myhauntedsalem]

The Haunted Wedding Dress

Although most people associate hauntings with buildings spirits can also attach to objects. In past posts I wrote about: Haunted Mirrors, a Haunted Doll called Annabelle, a haunted portrait at Shirley Plantation and recently, The Scorched Bed.

In 1849, Anna Baker was the third child of a wealthy family who lived in Altoona, Pennsylvania. She had the misfortune to fall in love with a worker without means. Her father Elias Baker, who made his fortune as an ironmaster refused to give his consent for the two to marry. He then used his power and influence to have this man kicked out of Altoona.

Anna angry refused to marry anyone else. As the years passed she became a bitter old maid. When she died in 1914 she was still living in the family home.

Before her father’s refusal, in happier times Anna had picked out a beautiful wedding gown that she intended to wear at her wedding. Within the year another Altoona debutante, Elizabeth Dysart then bought this gown. She gloated for she knew Anna had hoped to wear it.

Years later this wedding dress was given to the Blair County Historical Society who eventually donated it to a local museum. This museum is housed in what was once the Baker home.

This wedding gown is displayed in a large glass case in a second floor room that once was the dressing room off Anna Baker’s bedroom.

Witnesses have seen this dress move of its own accord--especially during full moons.

This gown has been seen swaying from side to side. One witness stated it is as if a bride is holding this gown out in front of them as they admire it in a mirror.

The dress also has been seen shaking violently to the point where staff feared the glass case would shatter harming the dress.

Investigators have searched for a draft in this room or any other possible cause but nothing has been found to explain why this dress moves.

Some feel this dress moves because Anna Baker has just reclaimed what was supposed to be hers.

[hihhasotherfixations]

Wedded - Dragon! John Price x Reader | Chapter 1

When you are mistaken by a dragon as his promised bride, you unexpectedly need to learn how to live with your new husband. After all, the dragon made a deal, and he wants his end of the bargain - you.

Current | Next Chapter

The results of the poll were clear. Dragon Price is first to come up and be written. This was also the only option who’s fic had multiple chapters sooo, woop woop! Hope you all enjoy :3

CW: f!reader, dragon Price, violence in future chapters

Word Count: 3028

Walking into the town, your eyes curiously looked around, an excitement blooming inside you – one you always found yourself in any time you got to a new part of the land, finding cities and villages you never knew existed.

This time, you’d made it to a village just south of the roaring mountains. A range that spanned the border of the land near the east. It was a relatively small village, and as you walked through to the marketplace, you immediately became aware of how close-knit the community was, as everyone seemed to know everyone.

Making you stick out like a sore thumb.

Still, your travels hadn’t gotten you this far if that was something that scared you off. And without further thought, you stepped up to one of the market brokers. The man was a botanist, obviously, selling herbs and wildflowers, your keen eyes curiously scanning around.

“Hello, madam!” The vendor perked up, giving you a once over, noting the large bag slung over your shoulder, as well as the leather-wrapped stick you were leaning on. “New to town?”

“Good morning.” You smiled politely. “Yes I am. It’s very nice.” You said, though as you looked around, it was evident that a scuffle had recently taken place. Broken wood and scorch marks riddling the buildings around.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked, that typical salesman smile on his face.

Giving a small smile back, you shook your head. “No, I’m just looking for now.” You declined.

As you perused, you recognised most of the man’s wares. Within your own bag that was currently slung over your shoulder, you kept several exact specimens like the ones laid out before you.

After all, you’d been collecting them.

For the last three years, you’d been scouring the land, finding and testing herbs and wildflowers for their potencies and effects. What was once a hobby had become your life, with you abandoning your old one in the process. Yet not a day passed where you regretted your newfound freedom.

“Say, you seem very knowledgeable in this.” The vendor suddenly spoke up and you glanced at him, tilting your head in curiosity. Seeing that, the man explained. “Your eyes zero in on the rarer plants and skip over the common ones. Not many know them like I do.” He complimented.

“Oh, yes.” You smile. “I’m… well, a researcher. I’m writing a field guide on the plants of this continent and their effects.” You said, slight pride in your voice. Though it wasn’t a secret per se, saying it out loud was not something you often did. But giving the man’s profession, you figured it was worth a shot. “I’m looking for some rarer plants and I must ask, what is this one?” You questioned, pointing at a flower to the right. It had white, pointed petals that slowly turned blue the closer it got to the core, yellow spore marking the centre while the stem and leaves itself were green. Nothing like you’d ever seen before.

“That? Oh, that is a mountainscale lily.” He smiled, picking up the dried specimen. “Very rare. Found only in caves high up in the mountains.” As he said that, he turned and pointed to the looming mountain behind the village.

“I’ve never seen them before.” You mused, leaning in to get a better look.

“They’re native to this region. Only grow under very specific circumstances.” He explained and you nodded, curious.

“Is this in a place I could reach?” You questioned, making the vendor frown.

“I would not advise-“ “Ah! Hold on!” A woman suddenly interrupted, sliding in beside the merchant, her hand on his arm. The man looked a little startled, glancing at her in confusion, to which the woman nudged her head in your direction with an easy smile. “Look at the lady, she’s well equipped! Don’t be underestimating her now.” She teased, bumping her hip into his before squeezing his arm to get his attention and sending him a pointed stare, one you felt you shouldn’t be witnessing. At it, the man glanced from her to you – who was standing there confused – before grunting as he looked away from you, muttering under his breath.

Confused, you turned to the woman who turned to face you while smiling wide.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“That’s… okay.” You hummed, shifting your hiking stick to your other hand, a little put off by her sudden appearance. “So, am I correct in saying you think I could get to where the flowers grow?” You questioned, the woman seeming to light up.

“I am positive! In fact, I would like to ask to make a deal with you. Hire you, if you will.”

That was both intriguing and concerning at the same time. Anyone could take one glance at you and see you weren’t exactly a mercenary for hire.

“Darla, no-“ The man started, placing his hand on her shoulder, but the woman just shrugged it off.

“Hush now, I’m sure it will be no problem.” She smiled, keeping her eyes on you, to which the man grabbed her elbow, forcefully turning her to face him.

“Don’t. This is our problem. We must bear the consequences.” He said pointedly, but Darla scoffed and yanked her arm free.

“We have a perfectly capable young woman here.” She spoke, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” You asked, confused and before the man could say anything, Darla stepped in.

“These flowers. They have a healing capability. About a month ago, our village was raided and our supply stolen.” She spoke, a resentment sounding in her voice. “It was supposed to last us through the winter but now new flowers need to be plucked. The problem is that gathering them requires skill and knowledge. No one but my husband can do it, but he injured his leg during the raid and hasn’t been able to make the trip.” She said while gesturing to him.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear.” You frowned in sympathy, looking at the vendor who had a defeated look, sitting down on his stool behind his stall. When looking around at the village, the evidence of a scuffle was clear. And not a small one. Not only were there the ruins and scorch marks around you, some houses were even burned down on the outskirts – which you’d seen when coming into town.

“Listen.” The man spoke up, catching your attention again. “The mountains aren’t easy to traverse, especially with an injury. It’s not a safe road. Think about this.” He warned, looking at his plants, avoiding your eyes.

Your brows creased together in thought as you then looked at the woman. “So… what is it you want?”

Darla perked up, her eyes landing on you before turning pleading as she walked around the stall, grasping your hands and holding them up between you and her. “We will tell you how to find the flowers. And in return, I beg you to retrieve a satchel full of them for our village. We cannot survive winter without them.”

Blinking in surprise, you looked from her, down to the pressed flower laying on the wood of the stall. You’d never heard of a flower which had capabilities such as that. 

“I-“ You glanced up at her again. Her hand was holding yours tightly.

“You can take this one for free.” She then quickly spoke, grabbing the pressed flower and pushing it into your hand.

Frowning, you looked down at it, briefly studying the colours and make before sighing, looking at the vendor again, who was still looking down. While the thought of a flower having such potent capabilities was hard to believe - not without it having some sort of addicting feature – the opportunity to study it was too good to pass up. “Okay.”

At your simple word, Darla lit up, grinning wide, though it was almost scary as she then turned to her husband and hugged him. “We’re going to be alright!” Before you could say anything, she moved back over to you, gripping your shoulders. “You will save every young maiden in our village from a terrible and ill fate.”

Letting out a bit of a confused chuckle, you leaned back a bit. “Why, does the flower not affect men?”

At that, Darla cackled a laugh – a surprisingly pleasant sound.

“Come, let me give you a map and explain how to get there.” She smiled, placing her hand on your backpack, gently pushing you with her, leading you across the market.

And in the haste of her offering you a place to stay at her impressively lavish two-story house, food, a map into the mountains and all the instructions that came with it, you failed to realise that the herbal vendor never came to the house, nor that neither him or Darla wore wedding rings.

- - - -

Leaning on your stick, you paused at the edge of the trail, huffing and puffing.

Since the early hours of dawn you’d been walking, resting periodically to make sure you’d be fit to continue.

According to Darla, the hike to the nearest cave containing the wildflowers was ten hours – on top of the hour you’d already travelled by horse together with the woman.

She had been incredibly helpful, sticking close to you and repeatedly thanking you for being willing to do this. Hell, it almost felt like she was glued to your hip until the moment you reached the foot of the mountain, where she was all too eager to send you off on your way, taking the horses back home.

Not that you blamed her.

Walking over to the rocky face of the mountain, you leaned against it, staying away from the trail’s edge, not to keen to fall down it. Shifting down to sit, you pulled your backpack off your back, digging in to get your journal where you flicked to the most recent entry.

Opening the page, you carefully picked up the pressed mountainscale lily, turning it in your hand. Before parting ways with Darla, you’d asked her many questions about the flower’s properties. She’d seemed a little flustered, almost unwilling to talk about it.

Glancing down at your notes, you pulled out the charcoal pencil from the spine of your journal, drawing a line down from the drawing you made of the flower.

Hunching forward, you scribbled a single word before a loud thud suddenly echoed through the forest down below, making you snap your head up, looking over the sea of orange-leafed trees before you. Far in the distance, birds rose to the air, making you hum curiously.

Glancing back down at the journal, you placed the flower back between the pages before closing the book, getting back to your feet again, ready to pass the next few hours mulling over your new hypothesis, that one word echoing in your mind.

‘Addictive?’

- - - -

Pulling your coat tightly around yourself, you shivered, tying the strings directly under your chin. Even with the sun shining fully in the sky, the air was frigid – a cause of both the height you were walking at, as well as the nearing of winter.

You’d long since pulled out your woollen hat, keeping yourself as warm as possible, your hands feeling like ice.

Holding your map tight, your eyes glanced from the parchment and up the trail you were currently on. It was small, a goat’s path more than anything and one misstep would result in you plummeting down onto rocks far below.

Yet as you looked right, you couldn’t help but be in absolute awe by the view.

As far as your eyes could see, the forest stretched. Along the way, a wide river shimmered in the slowly setting sun, everything bathed in a gorgeous light, enhancing the golden leaves of the autumn trees. If you weren’t at threat of losing the light, you’d have sat down to draw it.

Looking back at the map, you breathed out, exhausted. Your feet hurt, every step making you question whether or not this was worth all the hassle. Yet as you grasped onto the brittle rock on your left and rounded the bend, you saw it.

A large opening sat in the side of the mountain, a plateau in front of it providing plenty of space. The cave opening alone must have been the size of nearly two houses beside each other.

And about ten meters in front of you, you saw it.

A mountainscale lily gently flowed back and forth in the breeze, the petals gently moving.

Firmly pushing off your stick, you began walking towards it, crouching beside the flower.

It was small, incomplete and evidently not growing in ideal circumstances, too exposed to the wind.

Leaving it where it was, you kept going. The cave sat about thirty meters ahead and your heart began thudding in excitement.

Every herb and wildflower you’d documented so far was one you either already knew, or had vaguely heard of. All of them were known, most likely researched, used in experiments until every purpose was exploited. But this one? You’d never heard of a flower like this. And the thought of you being the first to properly document it? It filled you with an eager excitement.

Reaching the cave, instantly you saw the lily’s on the edges of the opening, blooming in the dirt-like ground that littered the plateau you were standing on, the forest behind you and far below.

Taking off your backpack, you moved over the left, crouching by a cluster of the flowers. Digging into your pack, you pulled out your journal and knife, carefully starting to prod at and study the flower, carelessly scribbling anything of note down.

Your mind was only focused on a single thing, yet as you inspected the flower, you noted that even in its alive state, the colours were less bright than the pressed flower the vendor had given you. Even these flowers weren’t sufficiently growing.

“Is it the cave?” You mumbled to yourself, setting your items down and getting to your feet.

Slowly, you started to walk in through the massive opening, your body casting a tiny shadow in the large circle of light.

For a minute or so, you moved. Yet the further you went, the more you walked, a dread slowly started to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Something felt off.

Stalactites hung from the ceiling, ominous and casting shadows onto the top of the cavern.

The light from the entrance was pale, limited. And as you walked forward, you slowly got to the cap of it. Daylight reached into the cave in almost a halo. A safe circle of pale light, ending where you stood now, right at your feet.

Normally, you didn’t feel like this. Normally, you’d step into the shaded part of a cavern without trouble but in this moment? You couldn’t.

There was something about this place that wasn’t right. Unnatural.

…Warm.

The cave was warm.

It was subtle, not immediately noticeable until you focused on it, but still your eyes widened in realisation of that fact. Despite climbing high up, damn near into the mountains to get here. There was no frigid cold. The difference from the moderately chilly air outside and in here was noticeable. And it definitely didn’t come from the watery sun outside.

A breeze suddenly picked up, a gust of wind so fast you had to snap your hand up to hold onto your hat, your eyes closing on instinct as your clothes billowed and ruffled.

Clutching the strap of your bag with one hand and your hat with the other, you dared to peek an eye open. Yet as you did, your heart sunk, watching as the sun that had been shining on your back was blocked, a shadow sliding in and covering your body.

The gust of wind passed, your heartbeat thudding harshly in your chest as you could hear every breath you took, your eyes wide as you stared at the unnatural shadow currently cast over you. A shadow that shouldn’t be there. A shadow that wasn’t a second ago.

Slowly, as if a thousand weights hung on you, you turned your head around. And the clench of your jaw slackened as a terror fell over you.

Sitting there, sprawled  across the opening of the cave, hung a dragon.

With scales a deep green, its eyes were fixed on you, unblinking while it sat. Hanging on the rock, its massive form blocked out the sunlight, small slivers only escaping near the corners of the scaly creature, the light almost casting it in a halo. Or hellfire.

You’d never seen a dragon before, only heard stories of knights or travellers, regaling the terror and power they could wreak.

You didn’t dare blink or move, just stuck in a staring contest until for the first time, it made a noise as a billow of smoke escaped its maw, a rumble echoing through the cave as it shifted, muscle rippling and scales glistening in the light.

With a deliberate and slow movement, it flexed the joints of its wings, stretching them slightly and blocking out even that last bit of sunlight that was on your body, fully encasing you in its mighty shadow.

With barely anything else to do, you turned your body around to face it like your head was, and as if on cue, that made it move.

Slinking down from the large cave entrance, the dragon landed on the rocky ground, front paws thudding down before the rest of the body followed, moving towards you.

Terrified, you stumbled back, wanting to run, though your heel hooked behind the uneven ground of the cave, making you fall onto your back harshly.

With the wind knocked out of you, you’d barely opened your eyes before you found the dragon’s maw hanging right above you, an amusement dancing in the crinkle of its eyes.

“Please-“ You whispered, only for the dragon to not hear as it instead spoke.

“Finally made the decision to show up, did we? You’re four hours late.”

-

I’ll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can! Please let me know what you thought and if there is interest for a tag list for future chappies ❤️

[krispycreamcake]

How about a Diabolik fic where the reader is the only Sakamaki sibling who acts strange during a blood moon? I'll let you decide what strange is if you want.

From Author: Okay so I did some extra digging on what would be considered strange to a vampire during a blood moon and it's just the opposite of the regular effects. I took some creative liberties with this so I hope you enjoy! Thank you for submitting this!

TW: Graphic depictions of violence!

A Vampire's Dissension

The sun's rays painted a warm hue across the sky, dying the clouds a soft pink and orange. Birds and humans alike were scuttling about to make their way home before nightfall. For it was when the twilight hour hits, that predators emerged from the shadows. To avoid being caught in the unforgiving jaws of death, one needed to be vigilant as to not get entrapped by these crowned monarchs of the moon, these sultans of sadism. Their ambition was relentless and so was their appetite.

Tonight however, was an especially particular night. Blood Moons were special occasions in which a vampire's abilities were amplified, along with their unyielding thirst for that deliciously, savoury, scarlet syrup. It was a known fact that no bride has ever survived a night in the Sakamaki mansion. As unfortunate as it is, this family has a reputation of killing their prey. Many brides have come but never gone, as their crying souls became trapped in the mansion where they all met an untimely demise.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have a couple bodies stacking up on your end either. To be fair, it's not like you tried to kill them, you just lacked a significant amount of restraint. And if you were being honest with yourself, you've always been that way for as long as you can remember. You noticed that with every Blood Moon, your predatorial instincts seemed to contort into pure unbridled aggression. It became an unbearable flame that scorched throughout your body, begging, crying, wailing for you to drink something more.

You stood near the manor's old balcony, watching how the setting sun drained any and all natural light dry from the sky. It wouldn't be long now before the moon started taking effect. Your veins began to pulsate and writhe under your fleshy arm, almost as if beating out your very body. You gritted your teeth as you remembered the last Blood Moon. You had requested Reiji to make specially tailored tranquilizers to subdue you, which it did.... For half an hour. After that brief period of peace, the stairwell was completely destroyed and Subaru refused to speak to you for a week. Your hostility wasn't unknown to the family, but that still didn't make it tolerable to put up with. From feeling thirsty and irritated, your emotions quickly took a turn to being aggravated and wrathful.

You stood there contemplating ways on how to isolate yourself from your brothers so you wouldn't cause harm to them. As night began to ink the sky, you decided it was better to lock yourself in your room and distract your mind. You sifted through your belongings before finding a cookbook hidden in your backpack. That's right, you were meant to prepare a meal from home and bring it to your home economics class the next day, using a list of designated recipes that your teacher highlighted. You skimmed over the book, scanning for any recipes you could make. Your eyes were immediately glued to a page on Beef Shigureni.

You'd never made it before, but Reiji was extremely talented when it came to making the stew up to his standards. You began to feel peckish as you read through the ingredients, mouth drooling at the images the book had displayed. Soon enough, that slight hunger metamorphisized into voraciousness. You could smell the succulent aroma of the prepared meat, drowning in its delicious flavours. Abruptly, a knock was made at the door which jolted you out of your thoughts. You noticed how the scent seemed to linger in the air. Were you that hungry that you were experiencing phantom sense? Your fingertips brushed against the cold doorknob as you twisted it open, only to be met with sly eyes and a smirk that could kill.

"Oh? Why the cruel expression? And here I thought you'd be elated to get a visit from your dear brother~" You rolled your eyes at Laito before replying. "What do you want? I'm kinda busy right now." Laito peeked into your room hearing this, eyes searching every corner until you had to push him back out into the hall. With your hands pressed against his chest, and arms flexing, you finally got him out of your personal space. "Hm? And here I thought you meant you were busy with a cute little plaything, how depressing." You clicked your tongue and looked him dead in the eyes. "You should leave before it starts." Laito raised an eyebrow at this.

"The moon isn't at its peak yet. Unless you really are getting that bad?" You noticed the very slight hint of concern in your brother's voice. "I felt it even when the sun was setting.... But I should be okay for now. Still, we don't know when it'll happen, so it's best you leave." Laito met your gaze with a cold hard stare. "If you try anything on me, I won't be going down that easily. Neither will the others. Stay in your room." You almost had chills hearing Laito speak so sternly to you. It was obvious he was worried for the others and for you. Despite his provocative nature, beneath was a man riddled by the fleas of abuse, and something about you going on a rampage seemed to bubble up memories once long buried. You couldn't help but notice how the succulent aroma from before seemed to be radiating off of Laito.

"Reiji mentioned something about you meeting him in his lab. If what you're saying is true, I'd hurry there before you bite his head off." And in an instant, he teleported away. You sighed and decided to find Reiji before it was too late. Your stomach growled and screamed, begging to be fed especially after your encounter with Laito. You admitted that it was srange that he smelled exactly like the recipe, but didn't let it bother you as you made your way to Reiji's lab.

You rapped on the door gently, fingers beating against the oak wood. You listened as it creaked open to reveal a dignified looking man behind it. "I see you've gotten my message. Come inside." You made your way into his lab and sat down on one of the chairs. "Deplorable...." You rolled your eyes and looked at him with an expression that could only transmit the words 'Get a grip'. He coughed lightly into his gloved hand, making an ahem sound. "I've prepared this sedative for you to try." Reiji pushed his glasses up before handing you a tiny glass vial with the most repungant, foul, revolting liquid you've ever smelled. You corked your nose shut before refusing to accept the bottle.

"Don't be a child. This is for the safety of all of us." You listened to Reiji's words and knew they were true. You knew all he was doing was trying to help. But even so, that concoction made you gag so much you thought you might throw up. You grabbed the tiny bottle and just seconds before you downed it, there was that scent again. That deliciously deceitful scent. It wrapped around your brain, clouding all your senses. As you gave into the smell, you couldn't help but notice that your senses became heightened. Your veins began to throb once again, pumping through your body. Being a vampire, your heart hadn't a reason to beat, but every Blood Moon seemed to tell a different tale. The feeling could only be described as want, the same kind of want that a predator feels when stalking its prey.

Reiji sighed at your incompetence to even simply drink something. He marched over to where you remained sat, seemingly stuck in a trance. "You understand the importance of the little time we have, don't you?" You didn't hear him. All sound was tuned out as your mind began to fog. As a matter of fact, you didn't see him either. Visions of rabbits running around in a forest at night as you watched from a hidden position formed in your mind. Reiji grabbed the bottle from your hand and had planned to force feed it to you, but as soon as his clothed fingers made contact with yours, you yanked him forwards and sank your teeth into his throat.

He let out a grunt as he tried to get you off of him, but you rammed his body into a shelf, teeth unmoving from their position. You sucked every trickle of blood that dare made its way down his neck, the crimson ooze only tantalizing you further. Your fangs sunk into his bloody flesh as he squirmed and fought, which only made you more adamant on not letting him escape. You began to press deeper and deeper into his muscle tissue before ripping your fangs out, along with a chunk of his flesh. Blood spurred everywhere, coating your face. Your hair became messier and tousled, pupils dilated far back, fangs dripping with the scarlet syrup you craved. You began to chew that piece of flesh that you ripped out, tearing it to shreds as Reiji slowly crawled out of the lab, leaving a trail of Vermilion behind.

It wasn't long after that your tastebuds were hit with sensations of the one thing you've been craving this entire time, meat. You searched the house far and wide until your gaze was met with Ayato's disturbed stare. He was horrified at the state you were in, looking up from below the stairwell. His shock was beyond what words could describe. Reiji lay behind him, Subaru using his own body to block his injured form. Shu stared at you, unsure of his own emotions. He knew you saw him as a meal, and for the first time in his life, he felt like prey. Despite their enhanced powers, none of them stood a chance against you alone, so it was imperative they stuck together. Your lips were stained with your own brother's blood as you stood there heaving, waiting, watching, like a predator about to pounce.

You ran down the stairs faster than any of them could comprehend, teeth bared like a wild dog as you sprinted towards Ayato. In the flash of a second, pain shot through both your arms as you let out a pained cry, howling like a beast as blood gushed from your palms, soaking the carpeted staircase in your fluids. Laito and Kanato had teleported just as you ran, iron stakes in hand as they plunged into your hands. They dashed up the stairs as they pinned you to the wall. At this point you were thrashing and snarling at them, not a coherent word to be let out. Anger took over and almost overrided the pain, until Shu appeared right before you, clenching your jaw and forcing your mouth open as he shoved that putrid concoction from before, down into your throat. In a matter of seconds, your eyelids began to feel heavy and as much as you fought, you fell asleep.

[rookiesbookies]

Reader making a deal with demon!König or Price in exchange in becoming their bride to which reader enthusiastically accepts just leaving demon!König/Price bewildered

Hello hello my brave reader! Sorry this took a couple days, I wanted to make sure it was good! Also I made it a bonus and gave you a two for one deal! Two fics in one ask!

I decided to do both boys because I could see them both doing this and Im going to put them under the cut!

Also here’s the source I used to come up with ideas for them as demons, I love this idea so much!

Masterlist pinned as always!

Price:

The young lady sobbed, tightly holding onto her robe while etching a mysterious symbol on the floor with a small dagger. She stumbled upon it in a scholarly book about Demons, which she had acquired from a wandering trader through less-than-legal means. Keeping it hidden from the church, she diligently gathered the required items for this peculiar ritual.

Chanting in what sounded like Latin, although she couldn't quite identify it, she lit candles strategically placed around the symbol. Stepping back hastily, she knelt, bowing her head in tearful anticipation.

Out of the floor, a ball of black flames emerged, as dark as the night sky with white peaks resembling stars. The room was bathed in its eerie glow.

A commanding voice resonated, causing her to flinch and weakly tighten her grip on the robe. "Who dares summon a Prince of Hell?" The booming words filled the air.

“I do, your Majesty, it was me,” she said quietly.

The fire, though intense, didn't scorch anything as it reached out, gently lifting her head. Despite its heat, it left no trace or marks on her skin, creating a paradoxical mix of fear and fascination.

The fire boomed out a question of why in her face, making her let out a weak whimper.

“It’s the man I am to marry! The church arranged this marriage, he is a terrible man, your majesty, he has beaten me and robbed me of my dignity!” The fire got hotter, seemingly angry, “he is terrible to me, I have prayed and prayed but God has not come to save me! There have been no miracles, your majesty. I,” she began to stutter out as the tears continued to roll down her face, “I have become scared of what he will do to me. I will do anything to be free of him, anything for a miracle, even if it be unholy!”

The fire was silent.

“He attempted to defile me, forcefully,” she cried, reaching out to hold the fire lifting her chin to face it as she begged. “I will marry anyone, I will do anything to not marry him. Any man is better than him!”

The fire thundered, dissolving to show a tall, ethereal man who delicately lifted her chin. His beauty was striking, his pale skin almost angelic, belying his demonic nature. Horns emerged from his sleek hair, curving back like bone with sharp points. Draped in a fur waistcloth, his abs, covered in a thin, soft layer of skin, captivated her senses, igniting an unexpected desire.

"Anything?" he inquired, scrutinizing the girl in her silk nightgown and cotton robe. She tenderly wrapped her hand around his forearm. She would have licked sweat off his abs if he asked.

"Anything," she breathed, captivated by the enigmatic figure.

"Then you shall marry me instead, lamb." His grip on her chin made her nervous, and she timidly withdrew. His sharp eyes tracked her every movement as she placed her hand in his.

"I'll do it," she mumbled.

"Speak louder to your prince."

"Yes," she affirmed, her voice gaining strength. "I'll do it."

Konig:

Summoning the half incubus, half demon of envy Prince of Hell was far from the plans she had today.

It was a dare. She was dared to make a deal for overwhelming and eternal beauty. She was going to back out before she made it, she swore to herself. She didn’t need beauty, she was more than content with herself.

She cussed as she drew the shape into the floor with the crayola washable marker. It was her room. She wasn’t going to put it in a sharpie or carve it with a knife.

She placed and lit the candles as she mumbled the chant in what seemed like German. Her friend had read of this demon from a German folk story and of course they dared the friend who was single to summon him. Her friends outside the door giggling.

When the red flames with green tips erupted from her floor she opened her mouth to scream. But a large hand reached from behind her to cover her mouth. The flames dissolving as her eyes almost bulged from her head. He moved

“Why did you summon me, maus.” He commanded. She looked towards the door, he got real close to her ear and whispered, “they cannot hear me. They did not summon me.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice.

He removed his large hand from her face and she was finally able to get a good look at him. A large burly man, probably 8 feet tall easily, in heavy armor and fur. The metal black and fur a bright red.

“I wish for beauty,” she said softly.

“I am not a genie, Maus.” He snarked with a chuckle. “But I will make you a deal. If you tell me what you truly want.”

He stepped forward to her, kneeling so her leg went between his, his mask close to her face.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she said softly. “I want a mature and sweet man to love me and be with me, like I see all my friends with.”

She could feel his crotch hovering over her leg, good god it seemed heavy. She now understood how he was half incubus.

“Then you shall have it, if you give me what I want from you in return.” He spoke darkly, as if he was licking his lips under the hood and eyeing her over.

“Well what is it you want?” She asked shyly.

“You will wed me in exchange.”

…

“Ok.”

“Huh?”

“I said ok.” She shook his hand.

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always, let me know in the comments if you want other boys done for this prompt or a part 2! (I say comments so I can easily pin askers if they dont submit it too the box)

I love you to my brave readers to submit asks and all the ones who interact! I love having interactions with you all! Hope you enjoy!

[satorusugurugurl]

Part of My World

Pairing: Gojo Satoru X MAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,704

Warnings, Ropes, public play, gags, arranged marriage, bottom!gojo, public vehicle sex?? (Is it vehicle sex or carriage sex??)

A/N: I received this request from @princeasimdiya12 for a Gojo x MAB!Reader. I had so much fun thinking of ideas of what to do, and the story just took off on its own! Please enjoy!

The scorching sun burned your skin as you went through the palace. Your parents had informed you that your future husband was waiting for you near the fountain in the gardens. To say you were not excited at all was an understatement. Gojo Satoru was notorious for being annoying.

He always made a commotion at every event he attended. Teasing other princes and princesses, insulting the elders (regardless if they deserved it), and relishing that he was the most eligible prince. Little did you both know he wasn't as eligible as he thought. Just last month, the Gojo and Y/L/N families officially announced that you were to be married.

Gojo, of course, threw a fuss the last time you had seen him. Arguing that he didn't want to move to your desert kingdom, that he would much rather you stay in his coastal kingdom. The tantrum was so terrible both your parents agreed it would be best for the two of you to tour each other's kingdoms.

Of course, he wanted to start with yours.

You could see where he was coming from. Your kingdom was hot, surrounded by sand, and there wasn't much to do. But your people made the desert kingdom an oasis. The streets were always bustling with vendors and life. It, indeed, was a magical place to live.

“Finally!” A vein twitches in your forehead as you turn to spot your future husband sitting on the edge of the large fountain in the center of the courtyard. “Do you know how long I've been waiting? It's hot out here.”

A breath caught in your throat as Gojo stood up. He was wearing the robes of your people. Tunic sleeves are short and light blue. His pants were slightly baggy, hanging on his hips. Fuck why did he look so hot? The image of him had your cock throbbing inside your pants as you quickly turned away.

“Go down, go down.” You commanded your cock. “Fuckin’.”

“Hey!” Bright blue eyes popped into your view, causing you to jump. “What's your problem?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing!” Clearing your throat, you tried to look anywhere but his body. “Where did you get the clothes?”

Gojo smirked, stepping around you like a shark would circle their prey. “Oh, please, since our engagement was announced, I’ve done my research. I know everything about you, Prince Y/N, and your kingdom.” You seriously doubted that, but as he spoke, he lifted the top of his robes, causing you to suck in a breath.

The robes that Gojo wore were those a bride or groom would wear. Underneath that, his body was tied with silk ropes, squishing his pectoral muscles together and twisting around his torso in intricate designs of hearts. Your Y/E/C eyes trailed further down his body, admiring how the dark blue silk stood out against his ivory skin and how tiny his waist looked. Fuck, how had you never noticed Gojo’s figure before?

Your eyes lingered on his v-line; a well-trimmed happy trail led further. This was unbelievable; what was he doing? What was he thinking?! Wearing robes and ropes like these was something to do on the wedding night. Not your first day showing him around the kingdom. You were about to turn your head to look the other way when Gojo’s hand moved. You followed it, watching with wide eyes as he tugged his pants down, just a bit revealing the base of his semi-hard cock, which was also wrapped in the intricate ropes.

“W-What are you—?”

”Y/N, I don’t like beating around the bush. If we're going to be together, I want to make sure my needs will be satisfied, along with yours.” He gently tugged at the two strings hanging off the side of his hip. When he did, the ropes around his body tightened, causing both of you to moan. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not about to buy a carriage without a test drive.” Oh yeah, no, this was fucking crazy. “What, cat got your tongue?” Satoru sneered, tugging the string again, making an almost pathetic whine resonate in his throat.

If you don’t do something soon, you will lose your mind. It was hard enough seeing his body like this, but hearing him talk, those dirty words and the teasing tone. You wouldn’t be able to take him on the stupid tour of the kingdom if he kept up this act. If anything, it would end with you dragging him to your chambers. There was always time for that later. Right now, it would help if you did something about his mouth.

“Awe, I left you speechless.”

Your arm snapped out, grabbing the strings from Satoru and giving them a hard tug. “Speechless, no.” Whimpers slipped from Satoru’s mouth as you tugged the strings harder. “I was just thinking you talk too much.” Your other hand squeezes his face, his lips turning into a pout under your fingers and thumb. “Plus, you forgot one essential part, your veil.”

(~)(~)(~)(~)(~)

The tour of the kingdom was going smoothly. You had begun at the palace, showing your future husband around the many rooms, the gardens, and the courtyard before you both made your way into town by carriage. The ride was enjoyable, but it was even more fun the second you stepped out. You and Satoru walked around, bowing at the villagers as you passed, making small talk with vendors, just enjoying another warm and sunny day amongst your people with your future husband by your side.

Gojo kept his eyes focused forward, not paying attention to much of what was going on. No one was wise enough to pick up on what was going on. But the two of you, you knew what he was hiding underneath the pretty robes. A secret that was making you harder and harder with every passing second. From the muffled whimpers and twitches from Gojo, you had a distinct feeling that he was enjoying himself just as much.

”Oh, Prince Y/N, Prince Gojo, it is truly a pleasure!’ A young vendor boasted as you looked over the wines in their booth. “Is there anything you were looking to purchase?’

”Hmm, I’m not sure; what do you think, darling?” Gojo shot an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Yes, Prince Gojo, is there anything you want to partake of? Please, anything is on the house for you, our future king!”

Blue eyes glanced around, roaming over the inventory. As they did, you tugged on the strings near his hip, causing the ropes to tighten. Gojo’s eyes went wide as a muffled moan sounded from his throat. Your future husband hunched over slightly in an attempt to conceal the growing tent in his robes. Ever since the veil had been put on his face, the same veil that hides the silk cloth gag in his mouth, you had made it your life's sole purpose to tease him.

The young vendor gave him a puzzled look as you loosened your grip on the strings. “My prince, are you alright?” Satoru had just straightened, gaining some form of self-restraint, and before he could nod or gesture in any way, you tugged the strings again, harder this time. The sudden action had Gojo nearly falling over. “Prince Gojo?!” The vendor's worried tone drew the attention of a few bystanders.

“Oh no, are you alright?” To anyone else, you were the concerned fiance. To Gojo, you were the main culprit behind his throbbing erection. “I think the desert heat is getting to my precious flower.” Your tone was full of faux concern. “I should get him home, but I will have my guards pack whatever you recommend. I will also pay you double for the goods.”

“Oh, you're so generous! Thank you!!”

You grinned, waving to the people and vendors as you helped Gojo back into the carriage. The moment the door shut, you snickered into your palm. Winning a glare from your betrothed. He was not in the slightest amused with your enjoyment of this.

“Yw’ll pwy fh ehwy.” His barely inaudible muffled whines slipped through the gag. “Athwle!”

Either he told you that you would pay for this, or it was some form of gibberish you couldn't understand. “Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying.” More muffled whines and moans filled the carriage.

He was most likely getting annoyed with the torturous teasing you were putting him through. In all actuality, he brought this on himself. Gojo was the one to show up in those robes. He was the one who revealed the intricate ropes decorating his beautiful body. You did what any other person would do. Claim what was yours.

“Pwhse.”

“Huh?” You heard that request this time. His hands toyed with the strings dangling from his hip. “Please?” Gojo responded with a wine and a nod, white hair in his eyes. “Please, what?”

He scooted closer to you, dropping the strings into the palm of your hand. He was putting so much trust in you. Someone he barely knew. Yet he was still willing to give you the power to not only please him but to please yourself as well. As your fingers curled around the ropes, you realized that this match might not be as bad as you both thought it would be.

“Fine, since you said please so nicely.” you tugged the strings as hard as possible. The sharp, stinging sensation resonated from almost every inch of Gojo's skin, a pained pleasure. That had him rocking his head back as the carriage began moving. His hips were thrusting against nothing as he whined. “My gods, you're not so against my kingdom now, are you?”

Slowly, you pulled the veil off, revealing the drooling, messy mouth of your betrothed. “Pwse! Pwsease!” The weeping noises had you smirking as you tugged the string harder.

“You're so fucking beautiful like this.” You slid your hand into his pants, stroking his cock slowly. “Dressed in the robes of my people, only to be dressed for your husband underneath them.” his cock throbbed at your words, the tip dribbling precum out of the head. “You like that, like hiding your dirty secret under these clothes, a secret only I get to revel in.”

“Fwk mw!” Satoru cried out, making you cease your strokes over his cock. You couldn't be sure if he said what you believed he said. Noticing the confusion in your eyes, Satoru huffed a loud scoff, drawing your attention to his gagged mouth. “Fwk mw,” he repeated, emphasizing the words as best as he could while gagging.

“Fuck you?”

You needed to clarify that this was what he wanted. When he nodded, you felt like your heart was about to explode. He wanted to be with you, and gods be damned, toy wanted it too. But there were steps you needed to do, prep, that required you to be with each other. Seeing the hesitation on your face, Satoru sighed before shimming his way out of his pants and briefs.

You sat back, swallowing hard at your dry throat as he turned, revealing his hole, stretched and lubricated, ready for you. It seems as though your fiance truly had done his research. Without hesitation, you all but tackled Satoru to the floor of the carriage, kissing his neck and running the tip of your tongue over the ropes and his skin. Fuck he tasted so sweet; you needed him.

He pulled your robes down, your cock bouncing “Satoru.” You groaned out before spitting into your hand, lubing up your cock. “Fuck I want you.” In response, he wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you down on top of him as his legs snaked around your waist. “I-I’ll take that as a yes!”

“Yws!” He sounded but nodded to make sure his consent was concise.

Holy shit, this was happening, all of the teasing, the bickering, the attitude. It had led to this. You never assumed that your betrothal to Gojo would lead to such an erotic moment in your life. This was definitely how you imagined your first day with your fiancé turning out. Yet here you were, on top of your future husband, your cock pressing against his tight hole.

You were so lost in your thoughts that Gojo huffed out a whine before pushing you inside. You winced as the head of your cock slipped inside of him. The tight warm heat nearly hard you cumming as he clenched down on you. He felt so good; gods, you needed more; you required all of his body, mind, and soul!

“Are you alright?” Your lips hovered over the gag. Satoru took a second, white brows pinched together as he adjusted to your size. A moment passed before he hummed, nodding his head again. “Good~ now be quiet. We don't want the guards to hear us.”

You slowly began thrusting in and out of Gojo with whimpers and whines. Gripping his hips as you set a pace. It was slow and steady, the carriage gently rocking in time with your movements. Thank fuck. Gojo was still wearing a gag because he was loud with it in. You couldn't imagine how he would sound if he weren’t wearing the gag.

His whines were like your own personal drug. The more he whined and whimpered against the ropes, the harder you found yourself thrusting into him. Desperation ruled your mind and your cock. You wanted to make him cry, wanted to see his eyes roll back into his head. Gojo Satoru was your fiance, your husband, and you were his in every shape and form.

Pushing his cock in as deep as you could, you hit that particular spot inside of him. One you had read about in books or heard people talking about in passing. Gojo whimpered, eyes wide as he arched his back, his legs tightened around you, urging you to stay where you were, to have you keep hitting that special spot. Taking his not-so-subtle hint, you pulled out just a bit before slamming your hips into that special spot, rocking into it over and over until tears began to well in those big, beautiful blue eyes.

“Mwphh!” Satoru cried out, those big tears rolling over flushed cheeks.

More? He wanted even more? He must be close. “Anything for you.” Your large hand wrapped around his shaft, jerking him off in time with your bullying thrusts that kept hitting that spot deep inside of him.

“Ngggh! MMM!” Satoru’s body stiffened, back arching as he clamped down on you so hard you felt your balls clench. Satoru’s cock throbbed in your hard as he came, spurts of white cum hitting his chest, your hand, hell, it even hit his chin. The pure glazed-over look in his eyes had you thrusting several more times before his clenching became too much.

“Fuck,” you whispered, yanking the gag out of his mouth, “I’m cumming, fuck, fuck fuck.” You pressed your lips against his drool-covered mouth, silencing your moans as your cock throbbed inside him. You filled him with your cum, pushing it deep inside of him until you both laid them, twitching in overstimulation. “Satoru.”

“Mhmm.” He hummed happily, pulling you down so you were lying flush against his cum coated chest. “That settles it.”

Pulling back just an inch, you watched him. “Settles what?” A chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you shook your head. “Did I somehow fuck the brains out of you?”

”You sure did, Prince Y/N,” His long fingers slowly ran through your Y/H/C hair. Finger twisting around the strands. “I gave you a test ride.” A bark of a laugh escaped you as you helped Gojo sit up. “I want to sign my agreement to be yours and yours alone.”

“Only if you let me do the same.” You shared a kiss with the man you were arranged to marry. An arrangement that you had come to love.