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beloveds-embrace · 1 day ago

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Until the Last Loop: Familiar Faces

(Days spent with them making new memories- a silent attempt at forging a new life before it will be ripped away once more)

Poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader

Part One

The castle breathed with life and the scent of burning tallow, but to you, it might as well have been a tomb. Its towering walls and narrow corridors, carved from cold stone and lined with faded tapestries, had grown too familiar over the cycles- prisons that wore different faces but caged you all the same, and you were the bird locked within it each life, merely with different feather each time.

You sung the same melody, regardless. A melody that would soon be snuffed out.

You moved through the halls like a shadow, your impending doom hanging over you like clock that never stopped ticking until its last moments. Servants parted for you without meeting your gaze, and although whispers followed in your wake, they no longer stung the way they once had. You had long since grown used to the weight of their words, their gazes full of pity and disdain. They had become just another layer of the endless loop, a reflection of your precarious standing with the royal lineage.

But the men- the four who trailed in your footsteps, sent by your father to report all your moves back to him with the excuse of protecting you- were different.

They were a presence you couldn’t shake, no matter how many lifetimes passed. Always close, always steady, their shadows filled the empty spaces others left behind. And unlike the others, they weren’t afraid to look at you.

In some lives, you despised them. What comfort could four men give you when all you wanted was your father’s love? Your people’s adoration? Friends your age? None whatsoever.

In other lives, you had been distant. You kept them at arms’ length, unwilling to even converse with them. They were of no use to your desperation to free yourself from this cursed cycle.

You’ve lost count of how many loops you’ve gone through. Even now, you do not know how it started; who started it. A cruel curse, that’s what it was, and you were its constant victim. It was inevitable, so why… keep away the only people willing to be near you?

And so this time, you let them close.

Soap was the first to slip past your walls, an unsurprising fact.

It was late when you found yourself sitting in the gardens, the air sharp with the chill of night. The roses were dying, their petals curling inward as frost crept along the edges, and you wondered- just for a moment- how many times you had seen them bloom and wither like this.

Too many times.

You were alone with him; no maid or lady-in-waiting was willing to accompany you, though rather than saying that, they jusy boldly lied and said they had prior arrangements to the king.

The king. Your father. It was always him. You wished he’d hate you a little less, just enough to not rob you of the care you’ll always long for like a child stumbling through the cold for a flicker of fire, of warmth.

Wistful dreams.

Soap sat down beside you without invitation, though his presence didn’t feel unwelcome. His easy smile was softer in the moonlight, and when he offered you his cloak, you didn’t refuse it.

“You look like you’re waitin’ for somethin’,” he said, voice low but steady, starting the conversation. By now, they’ve come to understand that you are… so different from whatever everyone said of you. You were quiet, your presence squeezed and molded into a tiny nook of the castle so easy to forget.

You didn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch. The words came slower, heavier now- weighted by too many winters and too many deaths.

“I think it’s waiting for me,” you breathed out, fingers brushing the edge of the cloak. The flowers fluttered when a breeze blew by, bending in the directionaway from you; they pitied you, too, for not even they’d be placed upon your grave once you were dead. “… My end, I mean.”

Soap didn’t flinch. He didn’t try to deny it, either. He did not have any loyalty to the king or keeping his secrets; no mercenary would bother even if they’d lifk the king’s hand for his gold and coins.

Snakes, all of them. And yet- they were the ones who got to live, so the last laugh was theirs.

“Well,” he said instead, leaning back on his palms, “if it comes knockin’, ye just let me know. I’ll handle it.”

You almost smiled. Almost.

Soap didn’t leave right after that, like you expected.

He stayed, stretched out beside you on the stone bench like he had nowhere better to be, his broad shoulders relaxed but his eyes sharp as they roamed the shadows pooling in the corners of the garden. The scent of dying roses lingered in the air, sweet and cloying, and you wondered if he noticed the way your hands trembled when you smoothed the cloak over your lap.

If he did, he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he tilted his head back and gazed at the stars, his voice softer when he spoke again.

“Ye know, my mum used to say the stars are just folk lookin’ down on us,” he said, accent curling thick around the words. “Watchin’, guidin’… makin’ sure we dinna wander too far off the path.”

You blinked at him. “And what if the path leads… nowhere?”

Soap turned his head to look at you then, eyes dark. “Then ye make yer own.”

It was such an earnest thing to say, so full of conviction that it made something in your chest twist painfully. You couldn’t tell him how many times you’d tried to do just that- tried to fight and claw your way toward a different ending, only to be dragged back to the start again.

Soap didn’t know. None of them did.

And yet, as you sat there with his warmth seeping through the cloak and his words lingering in the air like a promise, you found yourself wishing- just for a moment- that he was right.

That you could carve your way out of this nightmare and leave the endless cycle behind.

But that was foolish.

So instead, you leaned back against the bench and let your eyes drift shut, pretending not to notice the way Soap’s hand hovered near the dagger at his side, ready to draw at the first sign of danger.

Pretending you didn’t feel safer for it.

Ghost was harder to pin down. He lingered on the edges, silent as your grave, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

When the nightmares came- and they always did, another constant- you found him at your door. He never asked questions, never pried. He simply stood guard, silent, until the trembling stopped.

One night, when sleep refused to come after a day of listening to awful, false whispers of you, you found yourself seated on the rug in front of the hearth, staring into the flames. Ghost leaned against the wall, his mask a stark contrast against the flickering light.

“They won’t hurt you.” He said suddenly, rough and low.

You didn’t look at him. You watched the flickering fire, and was rewarded with whispers of the lives where you’d been burned at the stake. “They always do.”

“They won’t.”

And maybe it was foolish, but for once, you almost believed him.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, eyes fixed on the flames as if they could burn away the memories pressing in from all sides.

Ghost didn’t move from his place against the wall. He was a silhouette in the firelight, broad shoulders and sharp angles, the hollow black of his mask turning him into something almost otherworldly.

You didn’t ask why he was there. He never explained himself, and you never pushed.

After a while, he broke the silence again.

“They’re scared of you.”

His voice was quiet, still rough like gravel, but it cut through the room as sharply as any blade.

You swallowed, your gaze still locked on the fire. You couldn’t look away. “No. They hate me.”

Ghost didn’t argue. He let the silence stretch, his eyes never leaving you.

You weren’t sure why that bothered you more than words would have.

“They’re scared,” he repeated finally, slower this time. Firmer. “And scared people do stupid things.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. “Like cutting off my head?”

Ghost tilted his head, and something about the way he looked at you made your chest tighten.

“They won’t get the chance, princess.” He said, and there was something cold in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

You turned to face him then, finally meeting his gaze. Or at least, what you thought was his gaze beneath the mask. It was impossible to tell, but you felt it- heavy, unflinching.

“You can’t stop it, Ghost.”

Ghost didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. “Watch me.”

The words shouldn’t have meant anything. They shouldn’t have mattered when you already knew how this would end- how it always ended. Those words were treacherous to whatever the king wanted and expected of him.

But as the fire crackled and the shadows danced along the walls, you let yourself believe him. Just for a little while.

Because Ghost wasn’t the kind of man who made promises.

And yet, when he spoke, it sounded like one.

… yet you knew, not all promises can be kept.

Gaz was gentler than the others. Thoughtful. Attentive in a way that made your chest ache, because it had been so long since anyone had looked at you without seeing the stain on your birthright first and you second.

He helped you practice with a dagger one afternoon, though you both knew it wouldn’t be of much use to you. The sharp clang of metal rang out against the training yard walls as he corrected your grip, his hands warm against yours.

When was the last time you’d been held like that?

Far too long ago. Far too many lives ago.

“Careful,” he said, guiding the blade down in a smooth arc. “Keep your stance steady.”

You frowned. “What does it matter?”

Gaz tilted his head, eyes searching yours. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

And wasn’t that the cruelest part? That no matter how many times you died, you always woke up again?

You didn’t answer, and Gaz didn’t press. Instead, he let you lean into him when the weight of it all grew too heavy, when the weight of more than just the training pressed down on you.

Gaz stayed close after that- close enough that you started to notice the small things.

The way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than they should, watching for signs of exhaustion or the fear you tried so hard to hide. The way his touch was always secure but never overbearing, grounding you without demanding more than you were willing to give.

He made you feel… safe.

It was dangerous.

Foolish.

But you let him stay anyway. You stayed with him anyway.

The dagger gleamed in the sunlight as you practiced another strike, the blade slicing cleanly through the air. Gaz nodded approvingly, stepping back just enough to give you space, though his presence was still a solid weight at your side.

“Better,” he said, his voice warm but firm. “You’re getting the hang of it, princess. Maybe you’ll give us a run of our money, eh?”

You lowered the blade, breathing hard as you wiped the sweat from your brow. You couldn’t find it within yourself to be humorous “I’m not sure it’ll matter in the end.”

Gaz frowned at that, stepping closer. “Don’t say that.”

You almost laughed. Almost. “You don’t understand.”

His hand came up then, gentle as he tilted your chin to face him. The look in his eyes knocked the breath from your lungs- steady and sure, like he was trying to hold you together with sheer force of will.

“Maybe I don’t,” he admitted, voice low. “But I do know this- every time you get back up, it matters.”

You didn’t realize you were trembling until his hand dropped to your shoulder, grounding you with the warmth of his touch.

“Don’t give up yet, princess,” he murmured, softer now. “Not on yourself.”

It was almost too much. Too kind. Too hopeful.

You wanted to tell him that hope had no place here- not in this endless loop of death and betrayal and grief. Not in this damned castle- but the words wouldn’t come, caught in your throat like fish in a net.

So instead, you let him take the dagger from your hands, let him press it back into its sheath before leading you toward the shade of the courtyard’s edge.

And when he sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, you didn’t pull away.

Because for once, it didn’t feel like a burden to be seen.

Price was the hardest to read.

He was steady, commanding- his presence filled the room like the smoke of chimneys, lingering long after he was gone. He carried himself like a man who had seen too much and lost too many, and sometimes, when he looked at you, you thought you saw the ghost of something more.

He didn’t speak often, but when he did, his words stayed with you.

“Do you ever wonder, princess,” he asked one evening, standing by the window with a wooden cup of mead in his hand. You didn’t know how he’d even snuck it in, but you weren’t going to snitch. “if we’re all just pieces on your father’s board?”

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden question.

“All the time.” You said.

His gaze lingered on you a moment longer, and there was something unreadable in it.

You wanted to ask what he meant, why the sudden question, but he turned away before you could, leaving you to sit and stew with the thought.

And stew you did.

Because Price wasn’t wrong, was he?

You already knew your father had lied- about these mercenaries, their orders, everything.

They weren’t here to protect you. Not really.

No knights would take you, no nobles wanted you, and no one in the kingdom would lay down their sword for a bastard-born princess whose only crime was existing. Yet here they were, these hardened men, mercenaries paid in coin and silence, assigned to watch your every move.

Not guard you. Watch you.

Keep you until the day you were dragged to your death once more.

You’d known it the moment Price first stepped through your door, his eyes sweeping the room like he was cataloging exits instead of protecting them. The others were subtler- Soap with his easy charm, Ghost with his patient silence, Gaz with his careful words- but Price?

Price didn’t even try to hide it.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because he didn’t look at you the way others did. He didn’t sneer, didn’t pity, didn’t hate. He looked at you like he was waiting.

Waiting for what?

For you to run? To slip up? To hand him the excuse he needed to drag you before your father in chains, so he could take the money and leave?

The thought made your stomach twist.

Because no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t matter- that the loop would end and begin again, and none of this would last- it still sank its claws into you.

And the next time Price caught you watching him from across the room, you didn’t look away.

Not at first.

He held your gaze, steady and unreadable, but there was no malice in it- no sharp edges or hidden teeth. Just something quiet. Something that almost felt like understanding.

When you finally turned away, you expected the weight of it to linger, to drag down your shoulders and settle in your chest like an unwelcome puff of smoke.

But it didn’t.

Instead, you felt the faintest flicker of warmth- barely there, fleeting as a dying ember- and hated how much you wanted to hold onto it.

Days turned to nights, and the hours slipped away like sand through your fingers. The loop pressed closer with every tick of the clock, and yet…

You didn’t feel so alone this time.

They were there- in the quiet moments, in the chaos, in the shadows of your worst fears- and though you knew it wouldn’t save you, you still let them stay.

Because this time, you didn’t have the strength to keep them away.

This time, you… wanted to have fond memories before your death.

Masterlist

I hope everyone’s been enjoying this so far! Any guesses on why reader is in a time loop and who might be responsible? :3

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iid-smile · 2 days ago

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★ — usage

content — nagi seishiro x fem!reader, continuation from this post, hurt no comfort, angst, nagi is a piece of s###, like he's bad, nagi insults the reader quite a bit, some profanity, break up

wc — 1.5k

a/n — this is kinda rushed oopsies 🙈 also these a little surprise at the end !

two hours have passed. two hours of hearing nagi's stupid nintendo 3ds, two hours of hearing those same stupid theme songs over and over, and two hours of dread continuously pouring into your heart.

you've tried sniffling to get his attention. nothing. not even a glance to see if you're crying or not. you've tried getting up and going into another room. the sound of shuffling makes you think he's getting up to check on you, only to realise that he's turned from one side to the other on the bedsheets. call it toxic to fake your emotions, but it's way worse to not care whatsoever about what your partner is feeling.

all you needed to do was talk, right? and then this would be over. you'd get over it, and things would go back to normal.

but what can you say? what could you say without tearing up midway through? you could bring up today, or yesterday, or what's happened months ago, if you really wanted to. there's only been one thing repeating in your mind over and over, and that's what he's said two hours ago.

"sei." no response. "sei." and still. "seishiro." you beg for him to say something. out of frustration, you snatch his 3ds from his hands.

a soft gasp escapes him as he groggily stretches out for his device, his hand just inches away from it —exactly where you wanted him to be. for a moment, his eyes remain fixated on the screen, the sounds of the device ringing in his ears, but gradually, nagi drags his gaze up to find yours. "hey... i was usin' that..." normally, you would relish hearing his sleepy voice on a lazy day, but today... today was something different.

"and i'm trying to talk to you, so will you just—" he shifts his gaze, his eyes drifting elsewhere, leaving an air of unspoken tension between you. determined to bridge the gap, you subtly inch closer to his still figure, your heart racing as you attempt to keep him within your line of sight, hungry for a connection that feels just out of reach. "just listen to me. please?" pathetic, having to ask to be listened to.

"mm..." he mumbles.

"you're not—"

"i am."

with a sigh, your shoulders drop. "okay." that's not okay. you shouldn't allow that to happen. swallowing down the knot bubbling in your throat, you continue to speak. "what did you mean when you said you hated me?"

"i never said that." he's lying right through his teeth. either that, or he's managed to forget, to which you know he's not that stupid.

you brush your teeth over your lower lip, holding back the urge to scream at him — scream whatever words come to mind. your arms are crossed, and your legs too. "then what did you say? be honest with me, because we both know that i heard exactly what you said."

"hm?" he attempts to pull off a clueless expression, but you see right through it. once more, nagi shies away from making eye contact. just when you think the truth might forever remain hidden, a flicker of honesty manages to break through the facade. "i said i used to hate you."

"you said you still maybe do."

"...oh?"

"don't 'oh' me. why did you say it?"

"i didn't mean it like that..."

you are filled with disbelief, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. a deep, simmering anger sizzles beneath the surface, clenching your fists as frustration takes hold, leaving you almost absolutely furious.

"what else could you have possibly meant?"

the only sound that filled the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the rapid thumping in your chest. not a word for five minutes.

for those agonizing five minutes, you turned your back on him, not daring to meet his gaze. you were all too familiar with his ways — the charm that masked his manipulative tactics, whether deliberate or not. it was a game he played expertly, and the last thing you wanted was to be drawn into his web of deceit.

yet somehow, he possesses an uncanny ability to captivate you, much like a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame. as you find yourself locked in a gaze with him, his eyes hold an intense yet disarming quality, radiating an expression that seems to shout, 'i’m innocent'.

their depth invites you in, while the softness of his gaze stirs a blend of curiosity and empathy within you, making it hard to look away. will you fall victim to it once again? "don't give me that look..." you mumble.

"baby..." nagi reaches out for you, his head now laid on your lap and his hands around your calves. he always does this, every time he doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness.

"no... sei, please don't." it's hard for you to push him away, caught between wanting to stay and the pain of your own feelings. seeing the frown on his face tugs at your heart's strings in such a way that shouldn't be possible. you can feel the weight of his grip, heavy yet comforting; it pulls at your emotions in a way that’s almost overwhelming. it's so painful to see him so...

...empty?

"seishiro." finally, you manage to position him in a way so that he's somewhat facing you. you take a deep breath in, slowly exhale out, and brush some hairs away from your face out of habit. "i need you to be honest, okay?"

he only nods.

stay calm, stay calm. you can't let him see how you're really feeling. "what do you think about me?"

"honestly?"

"honestly."

"you won't get mad?" uh oh. that seems like a bad sign. still, you push forward, needing the full truth more than anything. maybe you could fix your relationship, or in this case, maybe you could fix yourself.

"i—"

"you're annoying." he abruptly interrupts you, and your eyes widen in surprise. in that instant, it feels as though a dam that has been sealed for years has suddenly burst, unleashing a string of words that flow effortlessly from his lips. each sentence spills out with urgency, as if he can no longer hold back the thoughts that have been swirling inside him. "you talk too much, i hate listening to you talk and you don't know when to shut up."

you sit there and take every word as if you deserve it. you can't even breathe, just staring down at your shaky hands, now starting to become damp with tears.

"stop bothering me right after class, and stop trying to stop trying to hold my hand all the time. it makes me cringe having to tell everyone else you're my girlfriend. and quit calling my name whenever you watch me play. it's embarrassing."

with a trembling breath, your voice falters, cracking like fragile glass as you softly gather the courage to speak. "...don't you have something nice to say?"

"something nice? you're pretty... i guess..."

and that completely broke you.

for all these years, you believed your relationship was filled with trust, never once feeling a hint of doubt about him. you believed wholeheartedly that he liked your endless rambling filling up the silence, or your randomness, or the little quirks that just make you you.

but clearly, that's not the case. it never was.

with tears blurring your vision, you steeled yourself and carefully made your way through his apartment, memories flooding back with each step. you grabbed what little was yours: your phone, charger, and headphones, clinging to these small, faint tokens of familiarity as you prepared to leave. you even abandon the oversized jacket you wore on your way here, which was his.

the red flags, how did you not see them? they were so obvious, and you still chose to ignore them. because he had a pretty face? because he wants to be treated like a fucking baby? you're sure as hell not going to act like his mother, and your sure as hell not going to let him treat you like his other boy toy.

"i'm so done with you." you try to stifle a sniffle, but a couple of tears escape, tracing an unwelcome path down your face. as you fumble with your shoes, your fingers tremble, and you nearly lose your balance more than once, the world around you blurring with each shaky movement. "don't even think about calling me anymore. don't wanna hear your stupid voice anymore..."

not a single hint of protest escaped nagi's lips. he remained perfectly still, his gaze locked onto you as you finally slammed the door shut behind you.

it was embarrassing, having all of his neighbours and him listen to your sobs echo through the hallway as you approach the metal doors, pressing the button multiple times. the wait felt like torture, your body aching to approach his doorstep once more. you enter, your hand on autopilot as you reach for the button right at the bottom.

"why...?" you find yourself whispering to your own reflection in the elevator mirror, dabbing at the tears glistening on your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. "if you didn't like me in the first place, why couldn't you just say so?"

all you did was talk, right? and everything went back to normal. he was no longer in your life, and you weren't in his.

but is that really what you wanted?

yesterday at 16:19

im bored

playyyy

yesterday at 3:27

hey :x

can we talk plz?

today at 13:40

ar u ignoring me?

2 missed voice calls at 13:42

bllk m.list

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eiralunaire · 3 days ago

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Damian gently laid you down on the couch, his movements calculated but charged with a palpable intensity. He stared at you for a moment, as if he wanted to etch every detail of this moment into his memory. The fire in the fireplace cast dancing shadows across his features, accentuating the hardness of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he murmured, his voice a low whisper that reverberated in the space between you.

“I want it,” you replied, your voice barely audible but firm.

His lips met yours again, this time with a mix of tenderness and urgency that made the air around you feel thicker. His hands, warm and firm, moved slowly from your face to your sides, running over your body with an adoration that left you breathless.

Damian was meticulous, as if each caress was designed to draw sighs from you and make you forget the outside world. His body, trained and hardened by years of combat, moved with an unexpected delicacy, as if he were afraid of breaking something precious.

“I never thought I would need this, that I would need you like this,” he confessed as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that ignited every fiber of your being.

“Damian,” you whispered his name, a mix of pleading and emotion that seemed to turn him on even more.

He paused for a moment, his green eyes searching yours, as if he wanted to make sure you were completely with him in this moment.

“This isn’t just one night for me,” he said in a grave tone, his sincerity piercing you like an arrow straight to the heart. “You’re all I want, all I ever wanted.”

The words left a lump in your throat, and all you could do was raise a hand to touch his face, gently tracing the line of his jaw.

“I’m not here for just one night, Damian,” you replied with the same intensity. “I’m here to stay, if you let me.”

The emotion on his face was indescribable. Without another word, he caught you again in a kiss that spoke of silent promises and deep feelings, letting the rest of the night become an exchange of emotions that had been contained for too long.

The fire crackled in the fireplace, the rain gently tapped the windows, and in that instant, the outside world ceased to exist. Only the two of you remained, giving yourselves over to the discovery of something you both knew you couldn’t, nor wanted to, stop.

His hands slid down your body, touching you as if he wanted to memorize every curve, every detail. His movements were precise, but there was also an air of desperation, as if he feared this moment might disappear.

The heat between you intensified, and the atmosphere grew heavier, more charged. Every caress, every kiss, ignited a spark that threatened to turn into an uncontrollable fire. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and small bites that sent shivers down your spine.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of desire.

“Don’t,” you replied without hesitation, your hands clinging to him as if you wanted to make sure he didn’t pull away.

Damian responded with a low growl, a mix of satisfaction and need, as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you towards his room. His movements were fluid, as if each step was charged with clear intention.

The room was dark, but the soft light from the rain falling outside illuminated his features as he gently placed you on the bed. He stood for a moment, looking at you with an intensity that took your breath away.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, even when I didn’t know I did,” he said as he leaned into you, his voice heavy with promise and emotion.

That night, Damian wasn’t the relentless warrior, nor the disciplined Robin. With you, he was just a man giving himself completely to the moment, letting emotions and desire consume him.

Part One, part Two

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #dcu #dc comics

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redfoxwritesstuff · 1 day ago

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AN: As we countdown to Christmas, I want to remind everyone once again to be the type of person you wish there was more of in the world. We as a whole decide what is acceptable within our fandom.

CW: Oral sex, voice kink, dry humping, Alastor has hooves, rough sex

Summary: You and Alastor never had the same taste in books but that was alright. You prefered romance of the reather spicy kind. It was never a difference in taste that impacted your days or nights... until you walk into the shared bedroom to find Alastor sitting with your book in his hand and orders ready on his tongue.

Alastor never really understood the appeal of the books he would often find you curled up in the reading chair absorbed in. They were love stories, and he was your love story. What more did you need? It wasn’t something he argued about with you. Just a passing confusion that would linger.

Alastor would walk in, find you with your book and walk by, a small smile on his face as he shook his head. You didn’t debate or defend your books. They were not something Alastor would like and so you left it be.

That’s why you were ever so surprised to walk into your shared bedroom to find Alastor sitting in his reading chair with one of your books in his hand, reading the back of the cover. You glanced at him, eyebrow raised as you made your way to the dresser.

He was humming as he flipped through the pages of the book, finding a general theme of the story from the random pages he scanned as you changed from your day dress to the silky nightgown you favored. The cool fabric skimmed the top of your thighs as you switched your panties out for the silky short shorts that matched it.

“Alastor?” You called as you walked over to him. “Are you going to join me in bed, or will you be up for a while?”

Alastor’s red eyes flicked up at you as he opened the book to page one. “Why don’t you sit with me for a while, darling? I’ll read to you for a bit.”

Your eyes landed on the title of the book in his hands as you settled on the floor in front of Alastor. It wasn’t uncommon for him to read to you, sitting in your reading chair or in his.

Mostly, he’d sit in his chair and you’d find yourself in his lap, head tucked against his shoulder as he lulled you to sleep with the smoothe sound of Alastor’s voice. Sometimes he would take up residence in your chair, though.

On those nights, you would sit on the ground at his feet, legs tucked under you as you rested your head against his knee. It was usually on those nights he wasn’t in the mood for a lot of physical contact. Your head against the side of his knee was a compromise you eagerly accepted.

That was the position you took now, preparing yourself to listen to him read not from one of his books but from yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as you relaxed against the soft chair.

Alastor started reading and mentally, you followed along. The book he had chosen was one of your favorites, well loved and reread many times. Your mind raced as you mentally counted down the pages until the first filthy scene would begin.

Surely, Alastor would stop when he realized what kind of book it was. You were so convinced that he would that your heart nearly stopped in your chest when he kept reading. He read about the characters fucking, seeking pleasure from eachother in the most explicate detail as if he was reading the newspaper.

The sound of his voice, narrating your book, was bringing a flush through your veins. Desire built inside you as he said the most filthy lines. Your thighs rubbed together as his voice continued on, unphased by what he was reading.

You jumped as Alastor ran his fingers through your hair, reminding you he was still there, as if the sound of his voice allowed you to forget. He read on, each word flowing from his lips as you struggled to keep your body under control.

“You seem to enjoy this,” Alastor teased as the chapter ended. “Is this why you like these books so much?”

You looked up at him, face hot while you tried to put on a mask of innocence. He had caught you. While you did not favor or partake in visual phonography, you, like countless other women throughout history, read it in inconspicuous books.

“I don’t-” You were not sure what defense you were going to go with or why you felt so ashamed in the first place.

“You’re rubbing your thighs together the same way you do when you watch me undress at night.” Alastor left you no room for argument. You were aroused, and he knew your tells. Hell, he didn’t even need to. His sense of smell was powerful, taking after his deer like nature.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, waving off your obvious condition, “I know you’re not really-”

Alastor patted his knee and ordered you to look at him. It was the first time you had done so since you had settled at his feet. His erection tented his night pants, straining against the fabric.

Your eyes lingered on it before you ran them up his torso, taking in the black button up night shirt he wore. It was a habit from life he struggled to let go of. He slept dressed unless the two of you had made love that night.

“Do you want me to keep reading?” Alastor asked. “Answer honestly, dear.”

“Yes,” you whispered timidly. “But only if you want to.”

“Care to make a deal?” Alastor drew out the last word, ears flicking as he spoke.

“What?” You hesitated, as anyone would when faced with such an offer. “What sort of deal?”

“Well,” Alastor shamelessly pulled the top of his pants down, letting his considerable cock spring free. If you want me to continue reading, you better make sure it’s entertaining for me, too.

“You- You want a- a handie?” You chuckled nervously, confused by the sudden change from what level of touching you had expected from him.

“No,” Alastor said after a pause. “I want you to put that pretty little mouth of yours to work.”

“Oh,” you shuffled around in front of him. You rose up on your knees, wrapping your hand around his cock, and looked at him for approval again. Alastor was ever so fickle when it came to touch. When he nodded, you wrapped your lips around his cock, running your tongue over his head in soft, wet strokes.

Alastor started reading again as you worked yourself over him, slowly taking in more and more of him as your saliva lubricated his shaft. You breathed long and slow breaths, taking in the scent of his musk.

You worked him over eagerly, listing to the sound of his voice reading out the most debauched things. The book he had picked was by far one of your more spicy selections. Sex scene after sex scene seemed to flow as your jaw quickly started to ache.

Alastor’s cock fell from your lips as you gasped for air, moving your weight from knee to knee, seeking any sort of stimulation. Your hand left his shin as you reached for your shorts.

“Nu-uh-uh!” Alastor said in an eager, singsong voice.

“What?” Your jaw ached as you formed the simple word, his length and girth making for a challenge to take into your mouth.

“You don’t get to take breaks while I read,” Alastor patted the top of your head with the back of the book. “I read and you suck. That’s the deal. I didn’t say you could touch yourself while I’m reading.”

“Alastor,” you whined as he smiled down at you. “You can’t expect me to sit here and suck your cock the whole time? You’re so thick, it’s not like you’re easy to suck.”

“Tell you what,” Alastor grabbed your chin as he leaned forward, kissing you softly for a moment before continuing. “You can take a break between chapters.”

“So generous,” you teased him for a moment before realizing he was serious. He intended to read to you until the book was done or it was time to retire for the night.

“Ha!” Alastor laughed, loud and eager, as if you had made some sort of joke. “I am! I’ll even let you take care of yourself… with my hoof.”

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered.

“I am!” Alastor laughed, guiding his cock to point at your mouth, waiting for you to wrap your lips back around his shaft.

You did, timidly, and were rewarded with his voice, reading once again. You thought yourself to be too good to grind yourself against his leg, his hoof, but as the first chapter finished and the second began, you found yourself straddling his leg.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the heavy feeling of the head of his cock resting against your tongue. You sucked at him, running your tongue up and down his slit as he read on. His voice continued, steady and unaffected by the ministrations of your tongue.

You sucked him deeper, trying to get some sort of reaction from him. The tip of your tongue swept under his glans, urging him deeper. Blowjobs were not something you typically enjoyed giving for extended periods of time but for Alastor… you couldn’t say no to him. He so rarely had sexual requests.

The sound of his voice, filthy words dropping from his tongue, filled your mind. “You’re such a hussy,” Alastor growled the words out, putting his own gravel into the dialog written in the book. “Eager for any man’s attention.”

You moaned around his shaft, fingers wrapping around his calf as you worked your way up and down his cock.

“Careful Cher,” Alastor said, looking from the book to you. “Don’t get too eager. I didn’t say you could make me cum and I certainly haven’t said you can either.”

You moaned in agreement, eyes looking up at him pleadingly. You wanted more, to hear him read more, to feel more of him. Alastor waited a moment before directing his attention back to the novel, set in the time he lived and detailing the scandalous relationships of a radio host.

“You will get that when I decide you’re ready,” Alastor read the words in the book, voice steady and not showing a hint of embarrassment. “And not a moment before.”

You ground your core down on the wiry fur that covered his lower calf, rubbing your silk covered folds against the joints that made up his ankle. Alastor read of a man slapping a woman’s cunt as you rubbed your folds over the ridge where the hard surface of his hoof began.

All you could think of was the sound of his voice as your saliva ran down his shaft. Alastor read as if he couldn’t feel it drip down his balls or soak into the fabric of his pants. He seemed unbothered as your tongue ran up and down his veins.

Your jaw ached as you swallowed around him. What was worse, your cunt ached from the need for him. The hardness of his hoof, shiny now with slick that had soaked through your shorts, was unforgiving against the softness of your folds.

“Each blow to her cunt was followed with a stroke up, running his fingers over her sensitive clit.” Alastor read as you eagerly choked yourself on his cock. “The moans leaving her lips were more and more shameless.” He said easily as you moaned around his shaft. “There was no show now. Each heaving breath, whine and moan was honestly earned.”

He was driving you insane. Each word that left his mouth rich and wrapped in warm honey made you want him more. You ground your clit against the ridge of his hoof as he spoke, trying to find satisfaction.

“You like this,” Alastor read, eyes focusing on you, ensuring you knew the words were as much directed toward you as they were toward the story. “You like it when I slap your wet clit, don’t you?”

Your jaw ached as you slurped around his cock, tongue working to find the vein and trace it. Need for him burned inside you, threatening to burn away at your sanity. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to bend you over the arm of the chair and fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name.

“You like it,” Alastor read as his cock twitched in the warmth of your mouth. “Knowing they can hear your moans. Do you want me to fuck you?”

You moaned again around his shaft, eyes watering as you looked up at him as he continued reading.

“Do you want to put on a show for them? Let them watch me slap your cunt? Let them watch you scream?” Alastor read as you whined and whimpered around his shaft. “Do you want them to see how wet this delicious,” Alastor paused, watching you as he finished. “Sweet cunt gets from pain? I’ll show them.”

You sucked eagerly on him, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum on your tongue. You bobbed your head, fully engrossed in the task as you went. Slick glued your shorts to your folds, soaked through the fabric. It spread against your thighs, shining in the dim light of the room.

“I’ll let them watch as I fuck that tight cunt. Watch my dick sink into you. I’ll have you screaming my name until the whole town knows who you belong to.” Alastor read on, voice tight as you ran your tongue over his slit before swallowing him again. “They’ll watch you lick my cum from me.”

The book slammed shut with a snap before Alastor threw it aside. Your eyes fluttered open as he leaned forward, the book landing dangerously close to the fireplace.

His cock pushed deeper and deeper into your mouth as he moved forward on the chair. You choked on him as he forced his way into your throat. Fingers wrapped in your hair to pull you off of him, throwing you onto your back.

Alastor poured from the chair as he climbed your body. His hoof scraped against the wooden floor as he ripped your shorts from your body. He was on you in an instant, hot saliva coated cock pushing into your needy, unpropped hole.

You moaned, body tense from how close you had brought yourself to orgasm as you rode his hoof. He was unrelenting as he pushed himself deeper, sheathing himself fully in your wet heat. The head of his cock reached deep inside you as he sighed, finally home inside you.

He indulged in the feeling for a few short seconds, not giving you anything more than those to adjust. Hot fire spread through you as he pulled back, grabbing your thigh and hiking it high along his side before slamming back inside you as he leaned forward, capturing your swollen lips in a hungry kiss.

You moaned into him as his cock pushed against your walls. Each thrust was punishing, brutal, and wild. He fucked you with the same force you knew the man in the book was going to go on and fuck his darling. The only difference was that he took her on the top of a table inside the speakeasy and Alastor was fucking you on the floor of your bedroom.

Did he know? You felt too good to care.

“Fuck,” you moaned, only to have the word choked off by Alastor’s tongue sweeping into your mouth.

He shifted, taking your legs and resting them on his shoulders as he folded you in half. All of his weight slammed down on you, driving his cock into you with all the force he could manage as he swallowed your cries. Your clit poked out between your folds, framed by them as his pelvic bone slapped it again and gain.

You struggled not to think of the way the man in the book slapped the woman’s clit. Did it feel the same?

“Cher,” Alastor groaned as he kissed your neck, pushing your knees lower still. “Baby, so good. You’re going to cum for me?”

“Ah- Al-Al!” You couldn’t form a word, could hardly form his name as each thrust knocked the air from your lungs.

He continued, body crashing into yours as each muscle pulled tighter and tighter. He watched as your toes curled and your ankles shook. Drool ran from the corner of your mouth. Lips, bright red and puffy from being wrapped around his cock for so long, parted, falling open in a gasp as the dam broke.

He could feel each shudder run through your body. Your walls rippled around him, strong waves begging him to fuck into you harder, faster. Who was he to deny? The sound of your cries of his name mixed with his panting breaths and the slapping of his body against your soaked cunt.

He came with a roar, shadows dancing around the room and fire surging in the fireplace. His power surged, as did his cock, as his punishing pace grew irregular. Hot ropes of white shot out from him, painting your welcoming walls white, rewarding their embrace with his essence.

His elbows gave out, pushing your legs to your shoulders more as he crashed down, mouth latching on your shoulder as powerful shudders ran down his spine. He ground his pelvis into your core, cock twitching as he emptied the last of his seed deep within you.

You gasped for breath, fingers running through his hair as one leg slipped off his shoulder, receiving the ache in that hip. The cold, hard floor was unforgiving under your back but you struggled to get the motivation to tell Alastor to get off of you. Instead, you both lay on the ground, tangled in each other as you both twitched with the aftershocks of your lovemaking.

If Alastor was going to fuck you with such feral passion, you wouldn’t mind him reading your dirty romance books to you more often.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

#DRP Smutmas 2024 #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hazbin x you #alastor #Alastor x reader #Alastor x you #hazbin alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin x y/n

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sarahsangelicdoll-recs · 24 hours ago

Text

eoooof this is hot !! i swear i love everything you come out with 💞💞

“predator/prey: the thrill of the hunt and the chase was like no other. whether rafe was chasing bambi in tanneyhill or outside at night time, the promise of getting to do whatever he wanted to her if he captured her was all the encouragement he needed. she’d be hiding, goosebumps spreading across her skin once she couldn’t see rafe anymore. little did she know, he was already creeping up from behind her, a rough hand clamping over her mouth before she could scream. rafe is grunting threats in her ear while she thrashes against him, telling her that she’s powerless and fighting against him is useless. of course, once he has her held down, she’s completely at his mercy.”

I’ve said this before but i love predator x prey because it has such an underlying hint of trust and playfulness that i just LOVE sm, predator x prey fics are my weakness and i love them SM

“tit fucking: having both your tits and your face in his line of vision is a surely a sight to behold. he’s delirious as you gaze up at him, the tip of his cock emerging from between your tits before meeting your tongue. despite you moving yourself up and down, rafe is thrusting from beneath you, the slick sound of his precum making both of you moan. “ah, fuck!” his hips are stuttering everytime you manage to wrap your lips around the tip, his cock twitching with need as you stroke him with ease. he loves seeing the way your lashes flutter up at him when he finishes across your chest, watching with lust-filled eyes as you swipe some of his seed with a manicured finger before popping the digit into your mouth with a smile.”

Imagining fucking Rafes dick with my tits while i watch his reaction is just unbelievably hot. then watching his expression while he stares down at you while he’s cumming, EUGHH i need himm

“hate sex: you two mastered this before everything else. fucking when you were enemies and nothing more was like a fever dream, both of you fighting to use each other for no other reason besides getting off. you’d push rafe down, bouncing on his cock to keep him from having his way with you, only for him to have your face pressed into the pillows moments later. you two didn’t care if the other felt good or not, it was purely just your way of taking out all of the pent up anger and frustration you two had for eachother. you’d curse at him before he crashed his lips into yours, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up for once and just use your mouth for what it’s supposed to be.’ as he forced you down onto your knees.”

i SWEAR i love bitchy!kook!reader and Rafes dynamic so much, they’re both hot and its just, eueeshe

“spanking: rafe blamed your mini skirts for his hyper fixation with your ass. he’d be groping you every chance he could get, the spanking factor coming in when you pretended to drop something one day, your boyfriend wasting no time in draping you over his lap and giving you the attention you were so clearly asking for. he spanked you so hard, you couldn’t help but cry out every time his hot palm met your flesh. “you asked me for this, don’t forget that..” he said through gritted teeth, smirking to himself as you continued to let him spank you with an unforgiving force. rafe was always so gentle with you, you loved when he switched things up and disregarded your pain sometimes..”

I swear spanking is such a big kink of mine, it’s so hot ESPECIALLY when they’re typically more on the softer side. like just imagining myself laying on my tummy across their lap while they alternate between spanking my ass red and soothing it is just- chefs kiss 💋

“marathon sex: with pogue!sweetheart!reader’s camper being far away from everyone on the island, it was like you and rafe were dead to the world as you moaned and screamed as loud as you wanted. completely losing the concept of time, you and rafe went at it until someone tapped out, neither of you tiring easily when you were too busy getting thrown over the edge time and time again. one night in particular, you and rafe were doing what you usually did before bed, your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you and you just couldn’t get enough. both of you kept going without any intentions of stopping. it wasn’t until rafe finally called it that you two noticed the blue morning sky peeking through your curtains that you realized you had just fucked for hourssss”

i never really thought of marathon sex before but just imagining Rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader fucking in pogue!sweetheart!readers trailer, plus add a lil bit of vanilla + humour, soft hint strawberry scent filling the air and just kind of lovey vibes is just.. i don’t know i need it 🤭🤭

we need to kiss all of these are hot and literally perfection

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ RAFE + THE !READER’S AND THEIR KINKS

warnings: dark content ahead! please do not read if you don’t feel comfortable with any of the kinks listed!

a/n: some of these might not be considered ‘kinks’ but instead things that both rafe and !reader may particularly enjoy. special thank you to @nemesyaaa for giving me this idea and always listening to my rambles <3333 consider this my christmas gift to you ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

wc: 5.0k

⭑.ᐟ bambi!reader

cnc: these two have a meeting and go over all of their fantasies. while bambi’s suggestions are more tame, rafe is going all out, suggesting that he kidnaps her, holds her at gun/knife point, along with making another safe word just for the sole purpose of dismissing it. he’s covering bambi’s mouth while she’s screaming for him to get off of her, fucking her with so much force that her body scoots up on whatever surface rafe has her on. she’s pushing away, or trying to at least, and rafe is just so much stronger than her that he doesn’t budge. “look at you, so pathetic and weak..” rafe would laugh at her, making her cry as she helplessly took his cock.

rope play: no one can convince me that rafe wasn’t a boy scout when he was little. he’s very knowledgeable of different knots and ties and made it a point to start experimenting with you, tying you up in grotesque positions purely for his enjoyment. even tying your arms behind your back in intricate weaves was enough to get him going. he’d take full advantage of you in your restraints, fucking you past overstimulation, the mixture of pleasure and pain making you cry out in both agony and bliss. your fingers would gradually grow numb, along with the rest of your body until rafe untied you, indents from the rope adorning your flesh.

outdoor sex: an innocent little picnic can quickly turn into rafe pushing your head into the grass while he fists your panties, dragging them down your thighs before bunching your dress up and slamming into you without warning. he can’t quite pin point when this became a ‘thing’ between you two, but fuck he knew you loved it. maybe it was because of the scenery or being far away from anyone being able to see or hear you two, but sex out in the middle of nowhere was thrilling for you both. bambi already spent a lot of her time outside, so whenever rafe would join her and do what he does best; making her cum around his cock, it was like her two favorite worlds collided.

asphyxiation: this was first done on accident when rafe was fucking your throat and smothering your face at the same time. seeing the way you gasped for air after he pulled you off of his cock was nothing short of gratifying. but seeing the way you were eager to do it again was even better. from that point forward he would do anything and everything to cut off your intake of air. covering your nose when you sucked him off, choking you during sex until you were on the verge of blacking out, pinning you down by your neck so your windpipe was being crushed. of course he educated both you and himself, and took your little taps of surrender very seriously.

predator/prey: the thrill of the hunt and the chase was like no other. whether rafe was chasing bambi in tanneyhill or outside at night time, the promise of getting to do whatever he wanted to her if he captured her was all the encouragement he needed. she’d be hiding, goosebumps spreading across her skin once she couldn’t see rafe anymore. little did she know, he was already creeping up from behind her, a rough hand clamping over her mouth before she could scream. rafe is grunting threats in her ear while she thrashes against him, telling her that she’s powerless and fighting against him is useless. of course, once he has her held down, she’s completely at his mercy.

⭑.ᐟ sheep!reader

slapping: whether rafe is slapping the swells of your tits, the fleshy globes of your ass, or your poor overstimulated clit, he loves seeing your body jolt at his touch. he especially likes slapping you in the face when he’s pounding into you, the small flash of hurt passing over your features shooting straight to his cock. he’s smiling while you’re flinching every time he picks his hand up, his large palm meeting your soft skin with a harsh smack! he knows you’re far too timid and shy to tell him to stop, small whimpers leaving your lips at the stinging sensation. once he’s done with you, your skin is raw and sensitive to the touch, rafe always making sure to soothe you and comfort you afterwards.

corruption: you were just a pretty, clueless virgin when he met you, and still pretty and clueless after he broke you in. rafe still see’s you as a saint even when he’s fingering you to tears, your tight walls spasming around his digits. he treats every time like it’s your first time all overs again, the idea of getting you addicted to his cock was enough to make him cum. he loved to see the confused, yet desperate plea in your eyes for him to turn you inside out. the fact that he’s the only one who has ever seen you unravel makes his chest fill with pride. to know that he’s the one who turned you into a cock-hungry slut to begin with does wonders for his ego.

dacryphilia: rafe does things to purposely make sheep cry. pinching her clit, fucking her so hard that his tip is nudging her cervix with every thrust, grabbing her cheeks and squeezing them together with a bruising grip, he loves seeing those sparkly eyes watering with tears. if he has you on your knees, he won’t stop fucking your throat until you have tears running down your neck and chest. rafe thinks sheep looks prettiest when she’s an utter mess, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips are his favorite look on her. even when she’s crying and upset about something, he can’t help but guide her hand to his aching length, promising her that she’ll feel better once she makes him cum.

orgasm denial: the way that rafe keeps sheep needy and ready to fuck whenever he wants is by denying her orgasms. waiting until her eyes are rolling to the back of her head before pulling away and making her clench around nothing. “nononono, please, rafe! i need it!” she’s clinging onto him, trying to keep him near as much as she could before he’s swatting her hands away. “gotta keep you on your toes, ‘doll.” he’s rough when he holds her down, stroking himself until he’s painting her tummy with his seed. sexually frustrated and sad that he didn’t fill her up instead, she’s bending to his every will later on when he wants to go for round two.

overstimulation: if sheep isn’t getting denied an orgasm, she’s getting a load of them until she’s physically trying to run away from rafe. while he’s doing everything he can to keep her cumming, she’s convulsing, shaking and trembling, writhing in pain as rafe works her poor, sensitive bud. using his fingers, tongue and cock, he tells sheep to keep count and if she messes up then he has to start from zero again. sheep is brainless after the first three, her train of thought being completely gone as rafe fights with her to keep her thighs open. “no more, no more, no more..” she’s repeating it like a mantra, rafe ignoring her pleas for him to stop.

⭑.ᐟ latina!kook!reader

praise: rafe is having a hard time believing that his favorite latina is even letting him touch her, so he’s doing everything he can to remember this moment. he’s telling you how good your perfume smells, marveling at how soft your skin feels under his touch, admiring and staring at your body in awe as if to remember every curve and detail. you’re looking in his eyes while he raves about never seeing someone as beautiful as you. “you’re so fucking gorgeous, holy shit.” rafe is in disbelief when he finally gets you out of your clothes, his eyes instinctively blinking as he didn’t know what to take in first.. your angelic face, show-stopping tits, or glistening pussy.

language: hearing you speak in your mother tongue is going to do it for rafe every single time. whether you’re cursing at him or grabbing him through his pants, whispering; “lo quiero, papi— i want it, daddy..” his cock springs up at the sound of your voice. you’ve taught him enough spanish for him to reply to certain things, your favorite phrase of his being, “mírame, muñeca— look at me, doll.” when you’re shying away from the intensity of his gaze. rafe loved hearing all the words falling from your lips, especially when a particular thrust of his hips made your voice crack at the end of your sentences. “keep talking to me, hermosa— beautiful, i need to hear you.”

mirror sex: you didn’t have not one bad side. in rafe’s eyes you were absolutely flawless. after the first time you two had sex, he knew immediately that he needed to see you at every angle. getting a mirror installed on the ceiling right above his bed was the first step, then it was a mirrored headboard.. and then two full length mirrors that sat in the opposite corners of his room. the man was obsessed with watching you. if he had you in doggy, he could still get a full view of your face twisting in pleasure along with the bounce of your tits. on days where you wanted to ride him, he’d watch in awe as the globes of your ass met his thighs with a ripple effect adorning the fleshy skin.

body worship: similar to praise, rafe is whispering sweet nothings against your skin, his hands working to massage your calves as he presses kisses to your thighs. he’s holding onto you, eyes closed as he takes in your scent. “you’re so perfect.” rafe sounds like a broken record as he kisses your knuckles, and up your arm to the curve of your shoulder until he finally gets to your lips. his hands are roaming your body even as he’s inside of you, his soft touch a stark contrast to his hard thrusts. not a single inch of your body goes untouched by this man. he pays attention to every single thing, from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes, he makes sure you feel like a goddess at all times.

tit fucking: having both your tits and your face in his line of vision is a surely a sight to behold. he’s delirious as you gaze up at him, the tip of his cock emerging from between your tits before meeting your tongue. despite you moving yourself up and down, rafe is thrusting from beneath you, the slick sound of his precum making both of you moan. “ah, fuck!” his hips are stuttering everytime you manage to wrap your lips around the tip, his cock twitching with need as you stroke him with ease. he loves seeing the way your lashes flutter up at him when he finishes across your chest, watching with lust-filled eyes as you swipe some of his seed with a manicured finger before popping the digit into your mouth with a smile.

⭑.ᐟ bitchy!kook!reader

choking: while rafe loves to choke you in order for you to keep your sassy remarks to yourself, he nearly loses it when you take charge and wrap your hand around the column of his throat instead. he loves the push and pull of your shared dynamic. when he has you pinned down by your neck, it’s useless to deem it a punishment since you always end up liking the pain more than the pleasure. rafe can’t help but curse to himself at the sight of the smirk adorning your lips when he’s cutting off your airway. “no way you’re loving this shit right now..” both of your voices are hoarse once you’re done with each other, the sound making you two look at each other smugly.

hate sex: you two mastered this before everything else. fucking when you were enemies and nothing more was like a fever dream, both of you fighting to use each other for no other reason besides getting off. you’d push rafe down, bouncing on his cock to keep him from having his way with you, only for him to have your face pressed into the pillows moments later. you two didn’t care if the other felt good or not, it was purely just your way of taking out all of the pent up anger and frustration you two had for eachother. you’d curse at him before he crashed his lips into yours, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up for once and just use your mouth for what it’s supposed to be.’ as he forced you down onto your knees.

impact play: if you and rafe weren’t hitting and shoving each other into his room when you wanted to jump each other’s bones then you weren’t doing it right. slamming you against the wall while he was inside of you, slapping him across the face when he did something a little too hard, it was all apart of your little dance together and you two fucking lived for it. rafe loved that he didn’t have to be so soft and gentle with you, and even more so when he found someone who finally didn’t treat him like he was made of glass and used the same force against him. the roughness and complete disregard for one another’s feelings in those very moments was addicting to say the least.

degradation: this was bitchy!kook!reader’s specialty. telling rafe how stupid and pathetic he is for spamming her phone with desperate texts, telling him he’s worthless and that the only thing he’s good for is being her boy toy. she’s bringing up the times when rafe was begging her to let him eat her out, calling him names and laughing in his face when he looks the slightest bit embarrassed. rafe isn’t letting up on you either, he’s cussing in your ear, calling you a bitch and a ‘spoiled fuckin’ brat’ as he folds you in half. both of you revel in the weight of your insults, the words only making both of you needy to prove the other wrong. ‘just shut your fucking mouth already..’

possessiveness: despite ‘hating’ each other, there’s nothing neither of you hated more than seeing each other in close proximity with someone else. rafe hated your friends, all of them always trying to introduce someone to you in hopes that they could get you to leave rafe alone once and for all. of course, later on that night when the party is over and the place is cleared, he’s pounding into you like he has something to prove. “you’re fuckin’ stupid if you thought i was gonna let you leave with that asshole.” he has you in a head lock, his toned stomach smacking the back of your ass as he choked you out with his bicep. “no one else could ever make you feel like this.”

⭑.ᐟ bitchy!pogue!reader

recording: she’s rafe’s personal pornstar without a doubt. bitchy!pogue!reader knows she looks amazing every second of the day, even when her mouth is full of cock, so when she see’s rafe pull out his camera, she’s really giving him a show. “you fuckin’ slut, i could make millions off of you..” rafe would say after she made him cum on her face and tits. rafe loved to keep documentation of bitchy!pogue!reader almost begging to tears for rafe to fuck her already, the footage coming in handy when she decides to wake up with an attitude and tells him that he’s lucky that you even let him fuck, let alone talk to you. he has the camera in your face the same night, grunting out “aww what’s wrong? ‘still think you’re too good for this cock now?”

rough sex: these two turn ‘rough sex’ into an umbrella term with all of the depraved shit that they do. smacking your skin until you’re bruised, scratching rafe until you draw blood, thrusting into you so hard that you let out a shriek with every stroke of his hips, and this isn’t including all of the choking, biting, and hair pulling that both of you do while you’re at it. rafe is ruthless in the bedroom, often leaving you bedridden by the time he’s done plowing into your poor, sensitive cunt. this was what regular sex was like between you two, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. it drove rafe crazy to know that you were so willing and just as sick and twisted as him to take his shit.

humiliation: this was a two way street for both you and rafe. he would say that he could never be seen with a stripper on his arm since he was sure the entire island had already been with you before, and you would say that you wouldn’t want to be seen with a pathetic loser with daddy issues and a drug problem to cope, anyways. both of you knew that the shit talking that you were doing was only foreplay for the activities you were going to do later. sure enough, he’s taking you in the country club bathroom, all of the grand parents there staring at your provocative outfit in disbelief. “please don’t make me moan loud..” you’d whimper, rafe wrapping a fist in your hair. “nah, you’re gonna let this whole club know that you’re nothing but an easy hooker.”

face fucking: once rafe got started on this, it was never-ending. he’d have you on your knees wherever you two were at, forcing you to keep your hands behind your back as he used your throat like a cock sleeve. he’s pulling at the roots of your hair with a strangled groan, the sound of his length sliding in and out from between your lips making his eyes roll to the back of his head. it’s messy and sticky, your cheeks full of tears as spit and precum dribble down your chin, your jaw aching for a break. “fuck, just look at you.. ‘bet you don’t have shit to bitch about now, do you?” still managing to roll your eyes at him, rafe chuckles to himself before picking up his pace.

dumbification: your walls are fluttering around rafe’s cock when he tells you things like; “you’re a dumb, stupid, slut who doesn’t know how to do anything except take dick.” and calling you a brainless bimbo with nothing but tits for brains. you’re nodding along to his words, not caring about how much he’s dumbing you down. in this very moment, with his hips slamming into yours, you were brainless.. not a single thought behind your fucked out gaze. “just prancing around in your heels like a clueless fuckin’ bunny, not knowing shit..” he’s delivering each word with a punctuated thrust, your back arching into his chest when you feel the rough pads of his fingers on your sensitive clit.

⭑.ᐟ kook!sweetheart!reader

sexting: boyyyy you two can sext for hours at a time. once the clock hits ten and your phone dings with a ‘you up, beautiful?’ from none other than rafe himself, you’re faking a yawn and telling your parents you’re gonna cut the movie short tonight because you’re so sleepy. as soon as you’re laid in your bed, your room door locked until further notice, you’re sending rafe all the pretty nudes you took for him since the last time you two sexted. rafe is fisting his cock as your pictures come in one by one, his bottom lip pulled haphazardly between his teeth to keep himself from moaning out loud. in return, rafe is also sending you pictures of himself. shirtless gym pics, his bulges when he wakes up thinking about you, and your personal favorite; his bare cock and the aftermath of stroking himself to your sexy photos.

lingerie: this was only fitting considering you were a whole designer with your own lingerie brand. rafe hadn’t really developed his kink for fucking you in your lingerie until you started surprising him, the lace and sometimes satin material looking just gorgeous against your skin. besides the obvious fact that you looked stunning in your sets, he thinks the reason why he appreciated it a lot more is because he knows you thought about him when choosing which one to wear. “do you like it?” was possibly the most dumbest question you could’ve ever asked him. of course, you got your answer when he pulled you on top of him, moving your panties over to the side before slamming you down onto his length.

cum play: rafe died and came back to life when he watched you smear his cum over your lips the first time you took his length into your mouth. and then he died again on a separate occasion when he came on your tits, your pretty manicured fingers swirling his seed over your sensitive buds. now every time he finished, if it wasn’t inside of you, he watched with a bated breath as you tasted him before pulling him down into a kiss. your tongues clashed, both of you moaning as you made out with his cum in your mouths. you shared spit, making a mess out of each other until you were begging him to cum again. “please, i want more, rafe..”

pussy eating: he needs it. he needs to have kook!sweetheart!reader’s thighs locked down to his shoulders while he works his skillful tongue on her pussy. she’s whimpering above him, wrapping her hands around his large fingers as he gently circles her clit. rafe is easily eating her out for an hour before another hour passes and she’s a mess. having orgasmed at least ten times, rafe is very controlled and knows how to bring her up before pushing her over the edge and letting her fall ever so graciously into another orgasm one after the other. the lower half of his face is soaked, and when he looks up at you from between your thighs, the sight of him is burned into your mind forever.

cockwarming: one of rafe’s favorites. whenever you and rafe are in the bliss of aftercare, he stays nestled inside of you, both of you kissing each other lazily while he rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “think you could keep still?” you teased, rafe laughing softly as you clenched around him, almost as if to provoke him to move. not even ten minutes later, you’re slowly circling your hips, desperate for any kind of friction while rafe holds you in place. “i knew you were gonna put out.” rafe groaned, moving gently as he rolled over on top of you. ignoring him, you dug your heels into his lower back, prompting him to keep going. “yeah, yeah, just fuck me— oh!”

⭑.ᐟ farmer’s!daughter!reader

size kink: cowboy!rafe is hugeee, and (un)fortunately for you, also hung like a fucking horse. his entire body envelopes yours when he’s on top of you, only half of his cock fitting inside of you before he’s forcing you to take the whole thing. feeling like his length and the sheer girth of him is splitting you open, you’re looking down at where you two are connected, your eyes wide as you see what looks like a belly bulge coming up from under your flesh. “ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” you’re delirious as the big, strong man above you drills into you at an unforgiving speed. his hand is large enough to wrap around the entirety of your neck, your chest caving in once you felt the band in your tummy snap.

dirty talk: rafe knew exactly what to say in order to get your cheeks heating. “you don’t think i know wet you are right now? i bet i could slip right in ya’..” you’re gasping at the lewdness of his words, hiding your face from his view as he stroked the exposed flesh of your waist. “ray!” you laughed nervously, both of you hiding in his little house that was in the back of your own. “you know i’m right.. that’s why you’re getting all shy on me right now.” he scoots closer, his lips trailing along your collarbone. “let me take this shirt off, ‘get these tits in my mouth.” being around a horny cowboy wasn’t good for your heart. “oh, my word! your mouth is filthy!”

daddy kink: the basis of you and rafe’s relationship was that you were together secretly, your father forbidding rafe from dating you, let alone looking in your direction. he wasn’t fond of your dad for that very reason. every time he’s asking you who your pussy belongs to, he’s forcing you to refer to him as a different name other than his own. “you, daddy! oh, fuck, i belong to you!” you’re crying out, the name falling from your lips before you could stop it. the fact that he had you, the farmer’s daughter, in his bed, calling him daddy when he knew your actual father hated him, stroked his ego more than your cunt did. “yeah, i’m your daddy? say it again.” you oblige, your eyes screwing shut as the plap of your ass against his thighs echoed in your ears.

mating press: seeing your glossy eyes gaze up at him while he had your knees pressed to your chest was hands down one of his favorite sights. with the back of his hands sitting underneath your hips, your lower half was slightly elevated, your needy cunt guaranteed to take all of his cum. in this position, you swore it felt like he was in your tummy. “nghhh— can’t, rafe!” you shook your head, your eyes brimming with tears as he leaned down, taking your lips in a bruising kiss. “shhh, of course you can, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me right now.” the wet squelch of your cunt made rafe keen, his lips wet with your spit. “gonna fill you up to the fuckin’ brim..”

breeding kink: you dreamed about having cowboy!rafe’s babies, both of you always talking about having little ones running around the farm. rafe saw it vividly— your pretty round belly, swollen with his seed, a baby on your hip while you greeted him after a full day of work. it’s all he could envision while he’s pumping in and out of you, your sweet moans sounding against his skin. “i’m gonna make you such a pretty mom, baby, you just fuckin’ wait.” he grunted, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he went even deeper inside your cunt. biting back tears, you let out a half-sob as he continuously hit that sensitive spot along your velvety walls. “you’d want that, right?” rafe still asks even though his mind is already made up. “duh!”

⭑.ᐟ pogue!sweetheart!reader

spanking: rafe blamed your mini skirts for his hyper fixation with your ass. he’d be groping you every chance he could get, the spanking factor coming in when you pretended to drop something one day, your boyfriend wasting no time in draping you over his lap and giving you the attention you were so clearly asking for. he spanked you so hard, you couldn’t help but cry out every time his hot palm met your flesh. “you asked me for this, don’t forget that..” he said through gritted teeth, smirking to himself as you continued to let him spank you with an unforgiving force. rafe was always so gentle with you, you loved when he switched things up and disregarded your pain sometimes..

food play: pogue!sweetheart!reader is basically our little strawberry shortcake. always whipping things up in the kitchen with rafe pressed against her ass was bound to lead to some interesting experiments. first it was strawberries, you and rafe sharing one before he dragged the fruit up the curve of your neck, licking the sweet, succulent juice that had dripped down to you chest. the second time around, before you two decided to incorporate it more regularly, you two were having a lazy day, both of you sharing some whipped cream you had made. you had playfully licked some off of rafe’s finger before he got the crazy idea to lick it from other places, too..

cream pie: rafe was obsessed with watching his cum drip out of you. he’d pull out halfway while you were still clenching around him, forcing you to look down so you could see the glorious sight of his twitching cock filling you up before pulling out altogether. you two would wait with bated breath’s, a moan leaving your lips as you felt the warm ropes of cum slowly drip out of your entrance. rafe’s chest would be rising and falling as he used the tip of his cock to smear his seed up and down your folds, even taking the time to circle your sensitive clit. “oh, fuck, this is amazing..” he’d marvel, gathering the sticky succulence before pushing it back into you.

marathon sex: with pogue!sweetheart!reader’s camper being far away from everyone on the island, it was like you and rafe were dead to the world as you moaned and screamed as loud as you wanted. completely losing the concept of time, you and rafe went at it until someone tapped out, neither of you tiring easily when you were too busy getting thrown over the edge time and time again. one night in particular, you and rafe were doing what you usually did before bed, your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you and you just couldn’t get enough. both of you kept going without any intentions of stopping. it wasn’t until rafe finally called it that you two noticed the blue morning sky peeking through your curtains that you realized you had just fucked for hourssss

soft/vanilla sex: rafe loved taking his time with you, especially because he knew you were sentimental about everything. holding your hands while his head was working between your thighs, looking into your eyes the whole time he was pounding into you, the gentle touches against your skin as he hoisted you up further onto your bed, it was all his way of handling you with care. he’d peck the tip of your nose when you were cumming, his fingers bringing you down from your high as he held you against his chest. whispering praises in your ear, rafe wouldn’t start aftercare until you were gazing up at him lovingly, and that was even sweeter.

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secriden · 1 day ago

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This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

#this episode broke me in ways i wasn't ready for because of style's backstory so fair warning there's no level of objectivity whatsoever #i'm sure much as already been said about this line and this moment and i'm sorry if i'm just repeating someone else (please let me know!)#i haven't had the time or physical OR emotional capacity to actually read any meta on episode 5 #so i apologise in advance if i screwed up anything but these are just my (somewhat disjointed and very emotionally driven) thoughts #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #fadelstyle #style sattawat #fadel #thk ep 5 #thk meta #i understand why dunk said this scene was so hard and weighty and was his favourite now #(or at least i think this was the one he means?? I vaguely remember an interview where dunk talked about them talking #before they have sex and how emotionally charged it was)#i'll have to go through my tags and see if i talked about it #but either way our boys both did such excellent jobs this episode #as they have been doing every episode but each time i really am just... newly awed by their talent and my adoration for them grows <3 #joongdunk #joong archen #dunk natachai #<my posts>

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mysteryshoptls · 9 hours ago

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SSR Trey Clover - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

I don't need anything special just because it's my birthday. I'll be happy just spending it peacefully as ever.

Summon: Living in a dorm is always lively and enjoyable, but that's what makes my alone time even more precious. I wonder what I should do tonight?

Groovification: Today's my birthday... So just let me sleep in a bit more.

Home: Guess I'll head to sleep.

Swap Looks: Can't forget to brush your teeth before sleeping and after waking up.

Home Transition 1: Whew... Oh, oops, I zoned out there for a bit. Time flies when you're not paying attention, huh. Guess I'll brew some coffee.

Home Transition 2: It's always good to have a light top layer handy. It's pretty useful to quickly throw on whenever I need to stay up a little late.

Home Transition 3: Jamil's present was a hot eye mask. I really like how soothing it is. He really gave me something nice.

Home Transition - Login: It might be fun to make my own birthday cake, sure... But there'll be so many sweets at the party that it could be too much to try to eat.

Home Transition - Groovy: I was shocked when Silver gave away that Riddle was planning a surprise for me. The fact that he didn't even seem to have revealed it with ill will is a problem in and of itself...

Home Tap 1: I'm starting to feel a little peckish... No, I shouldn't. I definitely don't want to doze off and wake up without having brushed my teeth, so.

Home Tap 2: I got a notif of a new video. Oh, they're making a boat out of chocolate, huh. This pâtissier sure is something, as always.

Home Tap 3: I received some oil from Ortho, and I'll admit, I did tense up a bit... But when I checked, I was relieved to see it was just olive oil for cooking.

Home Tap 4: I wasn't expecting Sebek to wish me a happy birthday. His tone was arrogant, as always, but maybe he's actually a conscientious guy...?

Home Tap 5: I seem different from usual? I don't think I'm doing anything different... Ah, maybe it's because I'm not wearing my glasses?

Home Tap - Groovy: How do I spend time when I'm in my room? I don't really do anything too special... Although honestly, I'm actually not a morning person, so I just try not to stay up too late.

Duo: [TREY]: Thanks for the earnest well wishes, Silver. [SILVER]: I wish you the very best, Trey-senpai.

Birthday Login Message: You're here for my birthday, huh? And this present... Oh, it's honey! Thanks! It's useful and honestly, easy to comprehend. What I mean is, we had a Science Club meeting today, and... Well, while the club members were wishing me a happy birthday, Rook gave me something. Look at this. According to Rook, it's a "wondrously beautiful clover," but... Is there any difference from a regular clover? I don't really get it... What about you? If you can figure out the difference, let me know on the down low.

Requested by @farfalla49 and @sakurakudo.

#twisted wonderland #twst #trey clover #twst trey #twst silver #twst translation #twst birthday

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purplephantomwolf · 2 days ago

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Savoring the Finish Line

Chapter Six

Synopsis: You are a bakery owner. One day Max Verstappen comes into your bakery.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings: Panic attack mention

Previous Chapter: Chapter Five

Masterlist

March 20, 2022

“Y/n, what are you still doing here?” Christian appears in front of you.

“Waiting for Max. He wanted to drive me home after the race,” you yawn, stretching.

“We just finished our debrief meeting, so he should be up soon,” Christian claps you on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Christian. Have a good night,” you nod, as he leaves the hospitality.

You only have to wait a couple of minutes before Max appears. “Bonjour, Max,” you say, as he approaches you.

“Hi, Y/n,” he says, dejected. You frown at his response.

“What’s wrong?” You stand up, grabbing your bag. You start walking to his car.

“I’m sorry about the race; I wanted to give you a good one to watch,” he sighs.

“Max,” you start, giving him a stern look. “You did give me a good race. You did amazing today,” you tell him.

“But I got a dnf,” he protests. You grab his arm to stop and turn him towards you.

“Max, you were in podium position until your car had issues. It is not your fault you got a dnf,” you firmly say. He gives you a sad look, and you shake your head. “I still had so much fun this weekend. I don’t care that you had a dnf. I am still thankful you invited me,” you tell him as you arrive at his car. He looks surprised when you say you don’t care that he has a dnf.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he says, opening the door for you.

You slide in, replying with a “I didn’t do anything to be thanked for.” Max climbs into his side of the car and you drive in silence for a couple minutes.

“I’m thinking of hiring another baker so that I can take time off and not have to close the bakery. This is my first time taking time off since I opened it,” you think aloud, trying to fill the silence.

Max glances at me, “Oh? I think that would be an excellent idea. You must be exhausted from working every day.”

You sigh, nodding. You rest my head against the window of his car, the vibration of the car lulling you to sleep.

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

“Y/n,” you hear your name and feel your body gently shake.

“Huh?” You hum, slowly waking up. You rub your eyes, looking around.

“We’re at your hotel,” Max smiles at you.

“Oh, thank you,” you yawn. You grab my bag and turn to Max. “Thank you for everything this weekend. I won’t ever forget a moment of it,” you thank him.

“Of course, thank you for helping me through my panic attack. I don’t know how I would’ve calmed down otherwise,” Max smiles gently.

“Of course, I’ll help you anytime you need it. Have a good night, Max,” you say, going to climb out of his car.

“You leave tomorrow, right?” He rushes his question out. You turn to him, nodding. “Okay, then I guess the next time I see you will be back in Monaco. Good night, Y/n,” he smiles.

“Good night, Max,” you climb out of his car, waving to him. You head into the hotel and up to your room.

You fall onto your bed, letting out a happy sigh. You pull out your phone to call Louis and Estelle. The phone rings a couple of times before someone picks up.

“Bonjour, Y/n!” Louis greets you.

“Bonjour, Louis!” you reply.

“Tell me about the race! How was Max afterwards?” Louis inquires.

“Oh, the race was amazing. Watching the cars fly past was so cool. We’re definitely going to have to go to Monaco this year. Max was hard on himself, he wanted to give me a good race to watch, and getting a dnf is not what he wanted,” You sigh, recalling how Max was acting, “I told him that he did give me a good race to watch and it’s not his fault he got a dnf.”

“Good, hopefully he won’t be too hard on himself now,” Louis hums.

“I hope not, but he probably will be,” you say. Louis makes a sound of agreement. You let out a yawn. “I should go to bed. It’s late here, and I have a flight to catch tomorrow,” you tell Louis.

“Bon nuit, Y/n. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis responds. You wish him a good night and hang up the phone. You go through your nightly routine and climb into bed, quickly falling asleep.

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

March 21, 2022

You deboard the plane, heading for baggage claim. Gathering your things from the carousel, you look for Louis and Estelle. You spot them quickly and head towards them.

“Welcome home, cherie. How was the flight?” Louis asks, taking your baggage from you.

“How were Lacey and Elise?” You ask, heading for the parking lot.

“They were angels. They’re super excited to see you,” Estelle informs you. You let out a little laugh, nodding.

“I’m sure, this is the longest I’ve been away from them. Probably missing their mama a whole bunch,” you say. You approach Louis’ car and climb in. “Thank you for picking me up.”

“Of course, dear,” Estelle says. You guys head for your apartment and bakery.

Pulling into your bakery parking lot, you can spot your dogs staring out from the upstairs window. You laugh and climb out. “Thank you again for the ride. I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning,” you say, giving both of them kisses on the cheek.

“Of course, amour. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis says. You wave goodbye as they pull away from the bakery.

Once they’re out of sight, you head into the bakery. Scaling the stairs, you can hear your puppies scratching at the door. “I’m here, I’m here,” you coo, opening the door. “Hello, my loves. Did you miss your mama?” You talk to them like they can actually answer you. After greeting them and petting them for five minutes, you head to your bedroom to put up your luggage.

As you’re putting the last of your things away, your phone rings. Max’s name flashes across the screen, bringing a grin to your face. “Hello, Max,” you answer the phone.

“Hello, Y/n. Did you make it home without any trouble?” Max asks you.

“I did. I’m home and I just finished putting everything away. Did you make it to Saudi Arabia alright?” You ask him, falling into bed.

You hear shuffling on the other end of the phone and a door close. “I did, I just got back to my hotel after dinner with the team,” Max responds.

“Oh, sounds fun. Are you expecting a good weekend from the car?” You inquire.

“It’s looking better than last weekend. We replaced some parts and it’s looking better,” Max answers you.

“Oh good, I’m glad. I’m excited to see you win. I’ll be cheering from home,” you tell him.

“I’ll win this race for you,” Max informs you. You let out a little giggle.

“Okay, sounds good,” you blush and kick your feet excitedly. You suddenly get hit with a wave of tiredness. “I think I’m going to sleep, Max. I’ll text you when I wake up tomorrow, if you’d like?” You shyly ask him.

“I’d love that,” he answers.

“Okay, I’ll do that then.” You wish him a good night and hang up. You crawl under the covers and your pups join you in bed. The flight wore you out, so you’re asleep in seconds.

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

Permanent Tag list:

@sol3chu

@faithshouseofchaos

Story Tag list:

@freyathehuntress

@anotherapollokid

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 story #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x y/n

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yerrmar · 1 day ago

Text

❧ GLUE SONG pt6☙

warning: swearing, cheesy ass kissing scene, kind of implies doing more than kissing, she/her usage for reader.

summary: you hate the whole of your dads hockey team except his and your favourite player Luke Castellan.

evie’s notes: i haven’t written a kiss scene in a while so im sorry if it’s shit and cringey💔

pt5

You could hear your heartbeat in your head, your stomach churned with nerves. Luke Castellan, the boy you've despised since the day you met him because of how arrogant and cocky he is, is now making you feel so weak in the knees. The mere thought of him even laying a finger on you makes your whole world shake. But why?

Because he complimented you once? Or because his cockiness can be quite attractive at times? Maybe because the boy looks like he was hand made sculpted by the Gods. Either way, this feeling towards him was so unfamiliar yet it felt so natural.

You didn't even have time to fully get yourself together before he showed up at your door, the boy lived 20 minutes away yet got there 5 minutes after he texted you. Slowly, you peeked out your window to try and capture a glimpse of him before being face to face with that damn smirk of his that made you either want to punch his face or kiss his lips.

His dark, curly hair clung to his forehead, damp from the rain, spilling over just enough to shield his eyes. He was wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and of course a compression shirt, it looked like he'd just come from the gym which really didn't help your screaming heart.

You barely gave him time to knock on the door before you threw it open and closed the door behind you, stupidly forgetting that it was currently pouring down. And there it was, that fucking smirk he wore like a crown.

"Hey, princess." Oh gods, was he trying to kill you? His eyes moved slowly over you, lingering on every curve, every line, as if he was studying a masterpiece—finding beauty in both what was perfectly in place and what was deemed imperfect. "The jersey really does look better on you."

You roll your eyes, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. "Oh, shut up," you say, crossing your arms, your voice sharp but your gaze betraying you. "You really think I'm going to fall for that?"

Luke grins, taking a slow step forward. "Fall for what? The truth? That jersey's practically made for you." His eyes flicker over you, deliberate and teasing, but there's a warmth in his gaze that he knows you can't ignore.

You scoff, turning away to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "Gods, you're unbearable."

He steps in your path, cornering you just enough to make you feel the tension between you. "Because you secretly love it," he says, voice lowering a touch. "You like it when I push your buttons."

Your eyes snap to his, and you force a scowl. "You have a ridiculous amount of confidence for someone who can't take a hint."

"Yeah?" Luke leans in a little closer, his smirk never faltering. "Funny. You've been giving me plenty of hints, princess. We gonna ignore that tweet you posted?"

You stare at him, lips parted, but you can't keep the smile from tugging at the corners of your mouth. "You're infuriating," you mutter, but it's half-hearted at best.

"And yet, here you are," he says, grinning even wider. "Outside in the rain with me."

You don't know what came over you at that moment because one minute you were shivering from the pouring rain and the next your body was suddenly filled with warmth when you pulled him into a tight embrace, your heart racing in your chest. Luke's eyes widened for a moment surprised by your bold action, but softened quickly into a look of tenderness as your lips met his in a soft, sweet kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest, as he returned the kiss with a gentle passion. Your bodies pressed close together, you could feel the warmth of his body against your own, chasing away the cold from the rain that still poured around you. Gods this was so cliche.

"What was that for?" Luke asked, his voice low and warm, a small smirk on his lips.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, and you averted your gaze from his intense stare, suddenly feeling shy and flustered. "I—I don't know," you managed to stammer out, your voice breathless. "It just felt right, in the moment..."

He chuckled softly, Luke's hands still wrapped around your waist, his thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles against your skin. "Well, I'm not complaining," he said, his smirk widening. You tried to come up with a snarky reply, but your mind was a swirling mess of emotions.

He noticed the flush and teased you even further. "Wow, you're speechless for once, that's new."

You huffed in annoyance, trying to hide your growing embarrassment, but it was hard when he was so close, his eyes fixed on you with that infuriatingly charming smirk. "Can you not be so annoying for once," you muttered, your voice soft.

Luke smirked, moving a strand of your soaking her that was stuck to your face behind your ear making you feel like you were about to collapse. He let out a soft hum and pulled you tighter against his chest. His hands wandered under your shirt, and he began to toy with the bare skin of your hips. "Nah."

Luke didn't want to stop kissing you, not when he finally had the girl he'd been pining for since the day he met her. He dipped his head back down to pull you in for a deeper and longer kiss. His hands moved up your back, slowly lifting the fabric of your jersey as his hands roamed underneath it.

He continued to kiss you, now with even more eagerness than before. One of his hands came up and grabbed ahold of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He pulled you as close to him as he could, not wanting any space between your bodies.

The couple's moment was interrupted by the sound of the Stoll brothers laughing and cheering. Luke broke the kiss and let out a loud huff, clearly annoyed. "God damn it.." He muttered under his breath, before turning his head to glare at the two younger demigods.

"Finally!" Connor cheered phone in hand whilst Travis whooped behind him shaking his fist in the air.

"Do you mind?" Luke huffed, whilst you stood there embarrassed as hell.

"Nope! Enjoy yourselves love birds!" Travis cooed as Connor turned around and pretended to be making out with someone.

Well, the moment was ruined, but oh gods were the butterflies going absolutely crazy in your stomach when you looked back up at Luke and he was staring at you with such tenderness, his eyes soft but full of longing, as if he could see straight into your soul. The way he looked at you—like you were the only person on earth, the only person that mattered—made your heart skip a beat. His gaze was full of love, and for a moment, it felt like the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in something unspoken but deeply felt. You let a cheesy grin take over your face "You coming in?"

travisstoll

♬the perfect pair • beabadoobee

Liked by yn.ln and others

travisstoll FINALLY omg took them long enough

connorstoll such a moving moment i cried

travisstoll i could feel their love

thelukecastellan and then you ruined it

travisstoll i think the fact that you replied to this an 2 hours late proves we in fact did not

seaweedbrain EW EW EW

yn.ln you guys are such creeps

travisstoll you just begged me to send this to you in the dms

yn.ln your point?

xo.silena AHHHH YES OMG my babies😭

clarlarue motherfucker stole my wife wtf

c.rodriguez your wife stole my man😔

clarlarue it’s okay because we have each other🥰

thelukecastellan you’re not allowed to be cute under a post of me and my girlfriend being cute

yn.ln girlfriend? hold on when was this discussed

thelukecastellan was you taking off my shirt not implying it?

wisegirl guys can you not discuss this in person you’re literally together right now

thelukecastellan mb

thelukecastellan

♬Glue Song • beabadoobee

Liked by yn.ln and others

thelukecastellan i love my girlfriend😍

c.rodriguez gang you just got together

thelukecastellan and? i love my girlfriend

yn.ln i love you too😽😽 but you’re forgetting my dad follows you

thelukecastellan oh shit

thebestcoachever happy for you both not liking that last picture

thelukecastellan sorry sir😔

seaweedbrain you tell him to keep it in his pants cap🫡

thelukecastellan stfu

wisegirl finally omg going back and forth between messaging you two about each other was exhausting

yn.ln now me and luke can double date with you and percy🥰

wisegirl okay there was no need😔

seaweedbrain why would we double date?

yn.ln sh sh percy it’s okay

thelukecastellan LMFAO

tags:

@s0urw00lf @lucylovesme @blairfox04 @kidkrowk @rafslytherin

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #imagine #luke castellan fluff #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan enemies to lovers #luke castellan hockey smau #luke castellan smau #pjo smau

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lvrboy-inc · 2 days ago

Text

“Siren” — K.M.

“Boy, I know what you desire..”

“Oh, you’re such a bad, bad liar.”

꒰: Précis | After a shitty breakup with a subpar man, you find yourself drawn to the lights and sleaze of the nearest bar. Drink away your problems or fuck and forget them with the bartender who’s hot as hell.

꒰: Disclaimer(s) | Dirty talk, praise, coercion, praise, spitting, hair pulling, PRAISE, pet names (♡)

꒰: Word Count ; 10.2k

꒰: Sweetest Sin Masterlist

Incubus Bartender!Satoru

Sad Drunk Virgin m!reader

“You seem tense, handsome..”

Starting your night off with a shitty breakup and one two many drinks might’ve not been the best route to take. In hindsight at least.

Your co-workers had already urged you to break it off with the less than desirable man who could barely breathe without working your nerves and not only that—trying to make you work in the bedroom.

It was an endless cycle of “You get on top, work for me.” and never him using the hips that God gave him to work you out—always ending in a resounding turn off, consistently followed up with, “Next time for sure.” So, after he had started an argument, ending in trauma being spat out in a fit of anger, you felt thankful, grateful, blessed even that he gave you a reason.

But..all breakups are hard to get over. Whether they were a long time coming or not, it’s always a shitty experience.

What’s always the best unhealthy coping mechanism for such..? A drink, of course.

“A drink.”

That was the intention..but you wound up getting more plastered than expected and crying out your woes to the bartender who had only asked whether you’d be putting things on your tab or card for the night.

He was charismatic—maybe because of the job description and having to be a poster boy for such a place. Sweet talking drinks into vulnerable people so he could get tips and points from his boss for making them profit. It was a good hustle, respectable and fun.

Not to mention..he was damn good at it.

After a bit of a slurred exchange of words, you’d gotten to know a few things about him: His name, Satoru, Satoru Gojo. 28, graduated college with a psych major, infinitely and criminally tall—6’3 to be exact—and to your surprise, swung both ways. Often.

You found yourself asking stupid questions just so he would slide your way from the other customers.

“I’m starting to think I should cut you off,” He teased after about the 5th call over.

You raised up your head to rest in the palm of your hand, running your index over the rim of the golden-lined glass he’d refilled so many times now. Some of it you drank, most of it you babysat. “I’m pacing myself alright..” You’d slur out with a mild puffing of your cheeks.

“Oh yeah? Your cheeks are flushed, hun. Unless that’s just from staring too long.” The way he pointed out your fluster so obviously couldn’t have made it go down any.

“You’re too cocky..‘m holding over fine.” A bit snippy but he laughed heartily, drying off a used glass with the hand towel he’d kept attached to his hip.

Even from this distance, you could just tell he smelled nice. Maybe it was the already alcoholic aroma that the rather sleazy place held but you could’ve sworn there were hints of cologne—expensive cologne—that mingled with it.

Those piercing blues he had, barely dimmed out by the lighting of the establishment flickered over you and a slick smile spread across his lips. “Then, please, I’m at your disposal. Need another drink, pretty boy?”

An initial sound of surprise came with the name but you turned away from him slightly and blew a stray strand of hair from in front of your eyes. “No..”

“Ah, so you did just want to talk to me.”

“Shut up..don’t you have a job to do?” You quickly retorted with a harsh roll of eyes.

Shrugging, he waved a small goodbye. Not before adding on a small, “You’re technically a part of it..”

And in another moment, you were back to eating up the eye candy. In your mild boredom, you opened up your phone to see your shitty ex spamming you across every platform imaginable—TikTok, Insta, Snap, Facebook, hell, he went as far as to email you. He was hooked and just seeing the mass notifications made you want to throw the whole device away.

That’s when you got a really..really bad idea.

About an hour went by and the promiscuous bartender had paid you a few more stops of his own volition. Each encounter got more and more..suggestive, to say the least.

From mild flirting to him finally saying, “My eyes are up here, you know.” when yours were drifting.

“Obviously..but that’s not really the objective.”

He visibly was caught off guard by your comment, going as far as to lean his arms forward onto the bar top, eyes now boring into your soul it felt like as he purred out a response. “Oh? And what might your objective be? You’ve been eyeing me since you walked in, can’t help but feel you undressing me.”

“I’m not some sort of pervert—you’re making it sound worse than it is.” Furrowing your brows slightly, he tilted his head in that oh-so innocent fashion.

It was hard to not crack a smile.

“I am,” He admitted smoothly, now actively ignoring a small trio of women at the end of the counter. “But, you didn’t answer my question.”

With one last adjustment of his neck, he was staring right at you. “What’s your objective here, pretty boy?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Terribly. But, I’d just love it if you could use your words. Give me something worth listening to and blowing off customers for.” His tone, his posture, his eyes—God, this is what true temptation feels like.

Working up the courage which..didn’t take long, thanks to liquid confidence, you squared your shoulders a bit to meet his gaze properly. “My objective is you. Is that so hard to piece together?”

“Don’t talk about things being hard right now.”

…

A round of silence and you were pulling a pen out of his breast pocket, you went along and grabbed his notepad as well. “And what are you doing now?”

“Giving you my cell..obviously.” Quipping back, you started to jot down the series of numbers before his slender fingers were pulling the parchment down so your focus was back on him once more.

He flashed that award-winning smile and stood up straight again. “No need. My shift ends in 30.”

Oh, he was confident.

“Make it 25. My place or yours?”

Finally, the women at the end had gotten more than impatient and wound up calling out a not-so passive, aggressive, “Bartender!” from down the way to which he cast a small grin your way.

“Duty calls.” He said briefly and then, he was gone again. Was he serious..? Maybe the drinks were really just getting to you but Lord..the way he spoke to you, sized you up—he wanted to talk about undressing people with their eyes? Please.

You could almost feel how he was defiling you in his head.

Among other things, you decided to down the rest of your drink and ultimately did put it on your tab. Once he’d taken down his apron and you had gathered the remnants of your heart that had led you to this point, you both were walking out with an air of civility…

Such a stark contrast to the debauchery that was promising the night.

Initially, you’d offered to take your car but he waved a hand with a chuckle, pointing over to a white Mustang GT sitting pretty in the parking lot. “I’ll get my co-worker to keep an eye on your ride for the night. You can come get it in the morning, ‘kay, handsome?”

“Should I feel insulted..?”

He looked around for a bit before looking back down at you. “I don’t know, are you into that sorta thing?”

“Do you always talk to people like this?”

“Hm, like what?” Peering in closer, he dug his keys out of his pocket, twirling them around his index for a moment before resting them in his palm.

Crossing your arms and beginning the path to his car, you spoke, “Like a slut.”

“Are you not one too, though?” He drawled, purposely keeping his strides slow just so you could keep up easily in your dwindling intoxication. “I mean, you came to my place of work, talked me up, now, we’re heading back to your place—is that not slut behavior?”

You got ready to make another smart comment but wound up falling short and simply digging an elbow into his ribs that elicited a pained groan followed by light laughter.

He was enjoying this way too much.

Even on the ride home, he wouldn’t let up in his relentless teasing fit. With the low rumbling of the smooth engine carrying you across the streets of the night city, he held one hand on the wheel whilst the other rested on the gear shift.

Every so often though, he’d try and drift his fingers over..over and up to your thigh which made you crane your neck to give him a sideways glance. “We’re not even halfway there yet..” You chastised lowly to which he moved his hand down, giving your thigh a playful squeeze instead of the devilish wandering it’d been doing before.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is foreplay not your thing?” Scoffing lightly, he shook his head and briefly peeled his eyes away from the road to look over you once again—it was becoming a habit. “I thought maybe you’d be as eager as I am—seeing as you’re the one who came onto me, after all.”

Rolling your eyes instinctively, you turned to face the window a bit. “Barely..I gave hints and you took them to ten fold. And I do like foreplay, seeing as my ex lacked the ability…I just wouldn’t want it to wind up with us fogging up these windows.”

“Please, I wouldn’t fuck you in my car,” He said it quick, as if he was a bit offended at the proposition. “I respect my baby better than to make a mess of either of you in here.”

That shut you up rather quickly.

You let your head make a small thud against the cold glass with an audible, “Hmph.” But, it was rather deterred when your hand moved over his, dragging it up further until it basically rested on the junction of your hips and leg. He didn’t make a comment and neither did you, save for the way your body spoke, pressing your thighs lightly together to hold his hand there.

Regardless, the rest of the drive was calm and when you’d arrived back to your quaint condo, just a bit out from the center of the cityscape, he turned the keys out of the ignition and got out of the driver’s side door.

Moving to open up the door, you started to get out before he was right there in front of it, closing it back. “What the hell?” You exclaimed, given the roughness of the pushback.

He took a few moments before opening the door so gently and leaning down to your sitting level. “You’re trying to rob me of my gentlemanly status, pretty boy. Can’t have that now, can we?” With that, he extended a flat palm your way which you took—not without a low, grumbled string of complaints at his dramatacism.

You fumbled with your keys for a split second before getting up to the door. Satoru loomed behind you, making a small shiver trail over your spine—that cologne was his.

Once getting inside, you were greeted by your precious feline companion who, instead of rubbing against your ankles, circled through Satoru’s. He gave a deep laugh of amusement, crouching down to scratch behind the furry friend’s ear to which he purred and mewed in response. “What’s its name?”

“His name is Dot.” You gave back, just the slightest bit jealous that the cat had taken a bigger liking to the house guest than the man who fed him every day. “He usually doesn’t like house guests..” A mild jab at the pet who was jingling and purring as Satoru catered to his sweet spots.

Though..after enough time and playful back and forth, just getting to know one another, flirting..whispering..trading spit..things got much more hot and heavy much quicker than you expected.

Once he’d had his tongue down your throat, it tasted..sweet. Not even in the metaphorical sense but like a literal syrup—an addictively sweet taste that had your head spinning..hazy, even.

Your back was already flat against the bed and he was taking his time..so much so you were getting impatient. Breaking the seal between your spit-drenched lips with a soft pwah, he was breathing right into your mouth. He trailed his hand up along the column of your throat and finally, a thumb was swiping across your bottom lip, pressing down on it just to get a glimpse of your lower set.

“Somethin’ wrong..?” God..how did he sound even more sultry than before..? All panting, just as his low-lidded eyes fell on yours. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now..”

Just for a moment, you were speechless. Now, you were really feeling the effects. Kissing’s never felt this good before..ever. And that haze from before? It was becoming a lot more prominent. “My head..feels weird..” You breathed out, finding yourself gradually heating up..from the inside.

“Ah, you’re catching on, pretty boy.” Catching on? To what exactly?

Instead of giving any sort of reassurance, his knee was creating friction along your jeans that were already straining. It was all so warm..hot, burning..something was off and all you could trace it back to was the man on top of you now. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten an easy mark like you..you really did make this way too easy, handsome.” He purred, trailing kisses and nips down your collarbones—exposed by your loose hanging shirt—and down, down, down.

It was so heated, every touch he showered your body with, even the simple action of him sliding his fingertips under your tee and dragging the fabric up was enough to make you squirm.

“What are you..talking about..?” You managed to say, relatively snapping back to a bit of reality. Despite how he was already kissing down from where your ribs connected under your skin, past your midsection and laving his tongue over your navel—it was obvious he was avoiding your questions.

Deft fingers picked apart the button of your pants, leaving them hanging open until he was back over top of your face. Satoru was analyzing your features, each twitch and shift in expression—the effect he was having on you.

It was utterly adorable.

Watching that stressed, pretty face all night, going from ranting and raving about a man who could hardly be called such to opening up into his own drunken desire and now laid out underneath him—fuck, it was a head rush.

“You seem tense, handsome..” The name rolled off his tongue like a vice and you could’ve sworn you were hooked. “Are you finally realizing what you got yourself into, hm?”

It was only a second. You blinked, eyes already squinting through each glance up at him and before you knew it he wasn’t..him anymore. With each passing open and shut rhythm it was something:

First his teeth, he was speaking but God knows you weren’t tuned in. Then the hands that had once been so soft, neatly cut and filed down grew into something sharp—clawed. And finally, there were those damn horns. You wished, hoped prayed that you were just too out of it to really be seeing straight but..it was real.

That cute bartender, the one who had teased and teased, led you on and wrapped you around his finger for the night..was a demon. An incubus at that—which, when it dawned on you, became even more of a problem.

Obviously, the first reaction was panic, a widespread “fight or flight” response that gradually was dimmed out. Next thing you knew, he was laughing..like, genuinely, cracking the fuck up. He could see the struggle in your eyes, the burning want, the need to fight back but oh..that little party trick from earlier was doing its job.

“Shh, shhh..it’s alright, nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about. Relax f’me..thaaat’s it..” He was speaking so slowly, so tauntingly, it felt like he was dumbing you down with his voice alone. “Fun fact about incubi—their spit counts as raw aphrodisiac..”

He leaned in closer, licking away a stray tear that had rolled down to the peak of your cheekbone before disappearing onto the warmth of his tongue. “And another fun fact..you kiss like a fuckin’ pornstar.” Already, his mouth was in desperate need of some soap.

If it’d stopped there, that would’ve been ideal. You could barely think straight, poor thing. A little too turned on for a first time, scared out of your wits, and still..still wanting to go further. You wanted him to take you further.

“Don’t you worry about a siiingle thing,” A low purr would escape him as his hands’ earlier work at your shirt finally finished, sliding it up and over your head until it was then pulled right around your wrists—he made it so. “Let me do allll that fuckin’ work for you. I told you you’re a part of my job, didn’t I..?”

You took in a shuddering breath, head instinctively flicking over to the side with a subtle roll of your hips. Oh-so absentmindedly your movements were..because as his nails made their tracings along your skin—from your chest, where he leaned all the way down just to shower your sensitive buds with the utmost attention, to how his palms then rubbed over your hips—you were just grinding.

Grinding it out on the rough fabric covering his knee as he steadily worked you over. His tongue felt..different. As in, before, it was..softer, more inviting, cute even. But now..? God, it could’ve wrapped around your cock twice and still reach the base with ease. That was a bet.

He was reveling in the series of whimpers and whines that you drenched his ears with, each one offering up a low, vibrating chuckle against your chest.

“Mhn.. ‘Toru..” Damn, was that your voice speaking..? Where did all this “Toru” business come from..? Whatever..all you knew was it tasted like heaven in your mouth and like a siren’s call to his brain. “S-stop fuckin’ around already..demon, incubus or not, you got me hot and bothered so deal with it—properly.”

A round of tutting left him as he finally detached himself from your now-swollen nipples, only to go back in to land a bite and minor tug on one of them. Already, the action alone had your legs trying to close up around his, stomach fluttering just from the feeling of his sharp canines digging in. Oh you knew he left a mark. You could already feel it.

Just as quickly as he doled out his physical reprimand, he was back to his affectionate, lewd lapping at your nub, alternating between each and giving whichever was orally unattended, pinches and rolls between his fingers. “I thought you liked foreplay, pretty boy..don’t tell me you got a little impatient and changed your mind?”

“You’ve got the brain of a whore and the body of a virgin—what kinda joke is that?” Sitting back on his haunches, both of his hands crossed over his pelvis, gripping the ends of his shirt as he tugged it off over his head. In all honesty your body had a reaction to that—a small gasp that he undoubtedly heard as well.

The shocking part wasn’t even the sheer cut of him, no, but the pair of wings that accompanied. A dark, charcoal black that differed so heavily from the pure white that his hair adorned. Stemming from his chiseled shoulder blades like a stalk.

His attention ran right back to you as he readjusted himself between your legs, both hands snaking to your inner thighs as he parted them like a sea: slow and deliberate. One of them trailed up further..coming to rest just before your groin where he splayed his fingers out.

“Hey,” A more baritone call for your attention as he stared you head on. “This is gonna really suck while I’m not inside you so..hold out for me, ‘kay?”

Rubbing soothing circles over where his fingers had found purchase, he rolled his hips forward, cracking that smile that was now sullied by the sharpness of his once-straight and narrow dental set. “You can hold out f’me, right?”

He wasn’t even asking. He talked like it was a fact.

“Nah, I know you can..you can take anything I throw at you..” Before you could even deny it, to tell him to reevaluate his expectations of your threshold, it was in motion.

The surging energy that he flowed out into your lower body first, then the crackle of electricity that followed suit, gradually descending into a sickening ache inside that felt like an inferno needing to be quelled. You squirmed and writhed, fragile fingers threatened to tear up your sheets as your strained voice caught up in your throat.

Eyes squeezed shut as you grit your teeth so hard you thought they could’ve cracked from the pressure. He was murmuring words of praise, encouragement, of urging you to endure it. And after a bit, it was less painful and more just a throbbing need that already had you breathless.

“Haah..fuck, what is..God..” The last name was said like it was the worst of profanity as you finally worked up enough gall to look down. Once his hand lifted from its place, that’s when you saw it.

Right there, just below where your stomach ended and your happy trail began—a fucking womb tattoo.

No, like, for real. It was engraved in your skin, staining your flesh that same charcoal black with the intricate scrawl of abstract twists all centered around a hollow heart design.

Fuck how it looked though—your body was screaming.

Just from the proximity alone from Satoru, it was getting harder to breathe, harder to even think straight and his pants weren’t even off yet. Was this the power of a real fucking demon? Able to bring a man to his knees with just a few well-placed touches and words of slutty promise?

“Toruuu..it burns..” A pathetic whine fell from your lips as you ran your hands down to try and soothe the ache. But not only with your shirt tangled up along your wrists but one of his own pinning them back against the headboard, you were stuck.

That roll of his hips had gotten bolder, more rhythmic..you could feel how much he was into this. Not only by the way he seemed to do it mindlessly, his breathy pants and the slight flutter of his abnormal appendages, but God..the fucking print.

Oh, it was fucking big.

Here he was, trying to keep you under control when he seemed like he would burst at the seams with one wrong move. “I know, I know..I feel it too, baby..” This whole time, he’d been rather composed—you know, while making you fall apart—but even now, it seemed hard for even him to keep himself under control.

“Tell me,” There went that damn tone again, though, instead of that cocky arrogance, it was almost desperate. “Do you want this as much as I do..? Don’t think with your dick right now, as hard as I know that is to do that right now…”

Trailing off, his free hand cupped your jaw, making blown pupils meet the zeroed. You could’ve gotten high off the eye contact alone at this point. “Say the word and I’ll stop—you won’t have to remember this ever happened. You’ll forget everything about me, your body will go right back to how it was and..I’ll be gone.”

“But I’ll miss this face..those eyes, your voice..oh…” No matter how much he was prioritizing you, how much he meant every word he said..he couldn’t help but pray, beg for God to do him a solid and let you say yes to this. “Come on, pretty boy..”

“Talk to me.”

It was less of an asking and much more like a command. Your hesitation was so evident in the way your breath hitched with each labored inhale and exhale. The proposition was set but the real question remained unanswered—were you really about to give up your virginity to an incubus..?

…

Well..yeah.

Making sure you never took your eyes off him, after what felt like an eternity, you uttered, “I crave it, Toru..please, don’t get me all the way here and leave me..I need you. Need to feel you in places I don’t know exist…” And with a final batting of your lashes, you breathed, “..need you to fuckin’ ruin me.”

That did it.

“Goddamn your mouth is so fuckin’ nasty,” Like a flip switched in his brain, he was on you. Gone was the gentle caress of his kiss—replaced by the starved devouring of your lips, teeth and tongue as he finally got serious. “I cannot wait to break you the fuck in.”

And by God did he mean it in every sense of the word.

His hands were everywhere: your hips, thighs, face, anywhere he could get a feel for you. A feel for the heat that you were radiating and pouring off in gallons. It didn’t take long at all for him to start tugging at the rest of the clothing that was keeping him from what he was gunning for.

Bits and pieces of fabric stripped away like nothing but an inconvenience before being discarded into the growing pile of articles on the floor. Once you were laid out bare in front of him, you faintly caught wind of an instinctive, “Fuck..” Slipping from his mouth before he was already hooking your leg onto his shoulder.

Even in his haste, he was handling you with sooo much care. His bites felt like nips and grazes before he was leaning in closer..further up until the heated inner of your thigh was burning the side of his face. He stayed there for a moment closing his eyes like he was an aerosol fiend.

But oh, oh when those glaciers met your gaze again, he bit down, hard. Those canines of his were a force to be reckoned with because the yelp that tore from you upon the breaking of skin was awful.

“What the hell, Toru..?” You complained, furrowing your eyebrows down into an expression that was meant to be scolding but you couldn’t deny the way the new addition to your skin was twisting your perception of pain and pleasure oh so deliciously.

And boy did he know. One turned into two and gradually, your thighs were stained with his saliva and the clear imprint of his teeth—slightly bloodied and hickeys for daaays.

At one point, you’d closed your legs up around him, a feeble attempt at a timeout but he wasted no time in prying then right back open, lowering his head enough to lick a looong, slow stripe up your neglected cock that had been sitting so pretty on the sidelines.

You really were acting like a virgin—the simple lick making your hips lift up just a bit before the contact was taken back away. A whimper of protest was heard at the loss of sensation and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “Ahh, is that what you want, pretty boy? Hm?”

Although his eyes were on you right now, he couldn’t help but feel the effects of not only smelling—seeing, touching, breathing—but tasting you on his tongue. All the while with both hands busy and his pants seeming like the greatest obstacle on Earth. But he digressed, bringing up a sharp-nailed hand to press his palm down juuust enough to glide up and dig your length a bit further against your stomach.

“Wanna feel my mouth giving all my attention to this cute cock of yours, hm?” A drawl of a question and you were already getting driven up the wall by the physical aspect that came with it. “Come onnn, what did I say about using your words, sweetheart?”

Did he like..need you to die in the process of all this?

A simpering moan was all your mind could muster up before you let out a light puff, willing yourself to meet those eyes that seemed to be doing more work than anything else right now. “Please, Toru..You’re driving me insane..” Breathless and absolutely helpless—just how he liked you.

The verbal queue was all he needed. With one chuckled out, “Good boyyy.” Oh he was getting to work.

That tongue that had seemingly grown in measure was going alongside with his hands—smooth and soft, yet a little calloused—that took your aching shaft up into his palm. He fucking kissed up, from base to tip and then swiped his tongue back and forth under your sensitive frenulum before using those plump lips to give playful sucks to your weeping slit.

Swirling that aphrodisiac-saliva slick all over until you finally caved, pulling your forearms in front of your eyes and just barely stifling out your voice from behind them. The muscles in your thighs were just shivering, and he hadn’t even taken it all in yet.

God you were fucking hopeless.

Satoru’s hands rubbed soothingly along your inners as he showered your cockhead with sooo much care. It was so much yet still not enough. “Mhn..f-fuck, deeper..please..” Even as you begged for more, your body was following its own rhythm, hips bucking up into the inviting heat of his mouth. “Come on..you’re a..haah, demon, right..? This is your job..right?”

“Then give me more.” You were taken aback by the urgency you held in your voice and he clearly was too—seeing as his tongue stopped its endless movement that had remained focused solely on the tip of your member. And in one, sharp-toothed grin, he was following your words to the letter.

Oh and God could you tell he had the experience of a lifetime. From head to base, he took it alll down. He even did the courtesy of holding his mouth there, swallowing around every delicious inch like it was the sweetest candy he’d ever. Fucking. Tasted.

The sensation was enough to make your head finally fall back into the plush pillow set that decorated the top of your bed, shuddering out a throaty groan and ultimately a sigh of relief. His tongue got back to work, even though he wasn’t moving his head, you could feel the methodical patterns he made along the underside, around—even going as far as to trace the veins that pulsed with each flick.

But when he started to move? Your eyes fluttered back like you were experiencing the first effects of anesthesia. Even with his sharpened set, you didn’t feel one bit of teeth.

The worst fucking part was those damn eyes.

You were avoiding his like a plague but you could feel them burning holes through you as your fingers raked through your hair. Yeah, you’d gotten sucked off before but goddamn, he was sucking the soul out of you.

Finally, your lids managed to peel open when your legs began to tense up, mindlessly rutting your pelvis up and down, just so desperate for that high you could feel coiling in your stomach. He noticed all the squirming, could taste the bittersweet of pre that dripped into his tongue each time he pulled his head back up—you both knew you were close.

A series of careening moans later and he pulled his lips off of you with a wet pop, putting in the effort to spit directly on the tip, rubbing his thumb over that weeping slit until you were sure you’d cramp up. His hand already picked up where his mouth left off and he was just heaving those barely useful, hot, shuddering, laughing breaths onto the connection of your shaft and head.

“You taste like fuckin’ heaven, pretty boy,” He said with a bit of a cockdrunk smile on his face. Those charcoal wings gave their own fluttering of excitement—now that you were slightly able to focus on something else other than his oral cavity. “I could suck this cock for hours and I’d keep going even when my jaw locks.”

And he wanted to talk about your mouth being nasty?

He brought his other hand to help with the job, left moving in short, up and down motions whilst the other was simply bullying the entrance of your urethra. Your hands, on the other hand, were simply just trying to find purchase on anything you could get them on.

The sheets, the pillow, your own tousled locks—whatever to help you cope with the burning need in your gut. “Oh f-fuck, oh God..‘Toru, Toru..!” You tumbled out in a hurried fashion as both your hands tried to close either ends of the pillow over your face to possibly shield you from the embarrassment..from those damn eyes. “Close.. ‘m close..s-so fuckin’..fuuuck..”

Vocabulary falling short, you heard the deep chuckle that he made, followed up by such a soft coo—all the while he was making you feel euphoric. It couldn’t have felt this good in its own..right? Sure, being a virgin was one thing but you’d gotten handys and blowjobs plenty of times before. It had to be that damn mark..right?

“Look at you..aww, you poor, poor thing,” The lilt in his voice made a whine of annoyance and frustration die out in the pillow that now barely masked your features. “You feelin’ it? My hands, my mouth, my breath..oh it’s just too much isn’t it? If you can’t handle this..”

He trailed off like he finished the sentence once in his head before finally verbalizing it, “Just how are you going to manage with my cock fucking you stupid? Huuh?”

Automatically, you felt another surge when his words reached your brain—not your ears but after they registered—and you were damn near trembling with the effort to hold back and keep up the tedious conversation. Or, it seemed rather tedious..to you.

“Can you imagine it already, huh? How it’s gonna feel when I finally sink in, the draaaag..Your eyes going cross when I bottom out, when you can feel me all the way up to your stomach—” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before you were sent tumbling over the edge in a fit of muffled profanity and swears.

Once again, that raspy chuckle of his echoed against your walls, only quieted down when his lips wrapped around the twitching and now pulsating head of your cock that emptied out straight into his waiting maw.

He closed his eyes, you heard—and felt—his low hums of appreciation as he drank it all down like he was on the brink of dehydration. As he did, the symbol along your pelvic bone started illuminating the small space it took up. It was almost hypnotizing..

After what seemed like absolutely forever, you fell back into the pillows with strained sounds of your come down, looking down to find Satoru’s glaciers staring right back up at you through those snowy lashes. You’d expected a witty remark but he simply pulled his lips off, holding your softening shaft in one hand as he opened his mouth up.

There, you saw the aftermath of your own premature climax. Immediately, your face lit up with a deep crimson. “Jeez, I thought you swallowed already..!”

He shook his head, smiling cheekily.

“Are you waiting on my say-so..?”

A bout of silence..then another nod.

You pulled a face, glancing off to the side and only coming back when he gave a few more teasing strokes that made you yelp in frustration. “F-fine..! Swallow, spit, I don’t care..I just..”

“I just want to stop the burning in my stomach..it feels like…I’ll die without it—without you..” You breathed. “So quit fucking around and do me right.”

That did it for him, seeing as he swallowed with haste and stuck his tongue out to reveal the—relatively—empty contents. What he did next was more bold.

Slowly, surely, he raised his head up, peering in over you. Even after all this and such a lack of clothing, the scent of his cologne still drenched your senses and managed to make your vision just a bit hazier in the proximity. All of that amplified ten-fold when he sealed your mouths together.

Sloppy, and riddled with the taste of your own cum, he was taking your breath away with each slick slide of your tongues along one another. A heady mixture of that delicious aphrodisiac and something uniquely his.

This entire time he’d been so patient. Dragging it on for what seemed like absolute ages. So when you felt his hand sneaking down—past your navel, not at all skipping your sensitivity—and finally down to your patient, waiting, hole.

Just the graze was enough but when two—not one—of his lengthy digits slid in, and his breath began to fan across your face with each break of this kiss..it was showtime.

“Fun fact, pretty boy..” He’d say, curling his fingertips into a spot you couldn’t even reach properly before you met him. “This, this little symbol right here..?”

As your legs were starting to clamp up, he used his free hand to trace over the tattoo embedded into your pelvic bone. “Makes things sooo much easier for me—for us..” Trailing off, he had gotten just mildly carried away as he hit that sweet nerve inside that elicited such a tantalizing sound to drip from your lips. “It gets you all nice and ready for me and I don’t even have to do anything too bad, t’ya..”

“Ain’t that exciting?” Chiming, he got his answer via the resurgence of your erection against your stomach.

This was his element and clearly he was thriving.

The sound of his digits knuckle deep inside—stirring up the fire that was raging in yourty core—bounced off the walls like a symphony.

Your voice was only getting sweeter and sweeter, falling on his ears in a way that made his previous, mindless, grinding down into the sheets seem like it would never be enough.

It wasn’t enough.

Not with your tight heat already pulsing and gripping his fingers like a vice, giving him a perfect demonstration of what he could be buried in right now.

“C’monn, I’ll talk you through it if it hurts too bad but..fuck…I can’t hold off anymore,” He slid his fingers out of you, but not without a shiver running up your spine.

Drifting downward, he undid—what he would call—his restraints and slid off everything from the waist down. Once he kicked it off to the edge of the bed and over, Satoru sat up on his knees and began fisting the base of his thick shaft.

“You’ve been leading me on all night..a man can only take so much you know..” It was almost a whining complaint that he twisted into a slight reprimand. “Let’s take this all the way. Let me get you there. You know I’ll fuck you so right in all the wrong ways.”

Panting now, he looked down at how your body was screaming with Fahrenheit and anticipation as much a him. The puddle of slick pouring out into the slight indents of your abdomen from your sobbing cockhead—that, amongst others let him know just how he was getting to you.

Just a bit of finger fucking and you were already like this..? He couldn’t even begin to fathom how you’d be when all 7.4 sunk in.

A whine trailed out when, the slight of fullness had been removed from your pulsing walls. “‘Toru..” You frustratedly simpered out, covering up your eyes with your forearm. “Quit f-fucking playing..”

“Playing? I’m just waiting for you to drop the attitude and ask me how you know you’re s’posed to.” He snipped back. “You’re the one squirming around and enjoying yourself getting off on my hand but you’re still so confident.”

You bit back a groan at his bratty response and shivered out a sigh. “I’m..sorry.”

“For..?”

“For giving you lip about how you’re not inside me right now.”

He shrugged his shoulders and slid his dripping tip along the crevice of your as—teasing you with his hips each time it caught on the rim. “I think you can do better than that..” Each pass spreading the slick that was artificially—or ‘magically’—pouring out of you and the fat drops of pre that were coming from Satoru.

Leaning your head back, down into the pillow, you began to speak, “Haah..for being..defiant—”

“Look me in the eyes when you’re asking me for something. That’s common courtesy.” With a slight bite, he pressed the tip past just a bit and it was enough to make you trip up in your sentence.

Your arm fell from over your eyes and to the side of your head as you stared up at him with all due reluctance. It was mildly hard to tell with how your features were already being contorted by the promise of more. “I’m sorry for being..mhn..defiant. I’ll listen, I’ll be..good for you. So please give me what I want..”

“Atta boy.” He purred, taking that as a sign to ‘spontaneously forgive you’. In reality—he just hadn’t expected you to beg so fucking nicely with just a bit of teasing. Next thing you knew, he was bottoming out inside you.

The pathetic sound that your mouth produced was one you didn’t know you could make before. A gradual and steady ease into it would’ve been better but oh he did the exact opposite of any of that. He had let out his own slightly pained groan at the sheer grip that you had on every inch you’d taken so gracefully. Eyes falling directly down onto you, he gave a half-smile that was somewhat meant to convince himself, just as much as you that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Holy shit..fuck you feel…fuck..” Vocabulary failing for what felt like the first time during the entire encounter, you heard the light fluttering of his wings up on his shoulders–most likely compensating for the way his hips had jutted to a stop after the initial breach of both your senses.

The cherry on top had to be the fact that he had pressed down riiight onto that little symbol of yours. Exactly where you could feel his cockhead nestled so snugly inside. It didn’t help that the veins were pulsing as they struggled to all find purchase within your sopping wet hole. He pushed your legs back by your knees–not into a full-on mating press yet but just enough so he could start rocking and setting up a steadfast rhythm inside.

You thought it’d be easier to–well, who are we kidding? It was already hard enough for you to deal with him just being inside but now with that drag that was building up the friction your body felt like it’d been waiting ages for; you were already rendered a stuttering, tensed up mess.

Rampant fingers scrambling for him and finally pulling him down on top of you by the base of his horns, you earned a groan that faded off into a dry laugh. “Aw, already can’t seem to get me close enough? I’m already all the way up in your stomach, you know..”

“I..mnh..I know, I know..f-fuck, ‘s just..a lot.” You pieced together, even with the currents that were creating seas of pleasure through your veins. It was like each time he pulled out and dropped all the way back down into you, his throbbing cock found new spots to bully and pinpoint. “.. ‘Yer fillin’ me up so much I c-can barely think straight, ‘Toru..”

That hanging coo of his name made his heart–and well, dick–throb as he furrowed his eyebrows in slight concentration. He was building up a sweat, easy to tell from the droplets that slid down his brow ridge and past his face to fall onto you.

“Are you sure you’re a virgin..? Or do you just naturally say shit that makes me want to give up on trying to fuck you slow?” He grunted, each time with a deep grind against your deepest parts.

At one point, he went into what felt like full downward dog and that alone was enough to prove his question to be redundant. Poor you, you didn’t even know what that bit of hip curvature could do before you were shuddering out a premature orgasm that startled the both of you when it hit. You were slightly mortified at the fact you’d cum from just a few well-placed strokes but to Satoru, you couldn’t have stroked his ego any better. That little emblem glowed it’s white shimmer until your climax subsided, Satoru never really stopping his motions until you were completely sated and now thoroughly heightened in your nerves. “Fuck, ah, s-shit, I’m sorry I didn’t think I’d–”

“Why’re you apologizing for that?” He laughed out. “It’s only your first of tonight, anyway. Might as well get used to it..” Giving another scan over your body, he could see and feel just how much each little detail was contributing to the state you were in now. “Hey, can you..get on all fours for me..?” “Why..?”

“I want to see if you can get a few back to backs while I’m hitting it from the back.” So chipper about it, you couldn’t help the slight twist of annoyance that came with it. To him it was worth it though, just to see your face get all pouty about the matter.

Slowly withdrawing, he eased you off of your back with a flawless handling of your waist and legs, making sure not to give you too much ragdoll treatment–yet. Your face naturally landed into the pillow with a muffled ‘hmph’ and just seconds later, you felt his thumbs spreading your hole out. He was admiring the view and your face grew hotter with each passing instant that you could feel his eyes lingering there.

“Do you mind–”

“Hush up, f’me. Let me enjoy this fully–it’s not every day that I get to fuck virgins so I’m trying to make you last.”

You let out a lengthy groan into the fabric before speaking again, “Why can’t you just fuck my brains out already..that is your job. Not to tease me until I can’t take it anymore..” “Oh, trust me, sweetie,” All matter-of-factly, he leaned down to nip and bite at the exposed skin of your shoulder, moving to lick a stripe from your tailbone, all the way up until he placed another loving set of teeth marks at the nape of your neck. “If that was enough to make you finish quick as you did–you wouldn’t be able to handle all that. I’m doing this for your sake, so try and sound a bit more grateful.”

Whatever bratty remark you had to give afterward was silenced by the sound and feeling of a fat wad of his saliva coming into contact with your puckered entrance. A mild shiver and you could’ve sworn that the tips of your ears were redder than ever. It also didn’t help the fact that he began that languid stroking of his angry cockhead all along the crevice that he’d spread out so gracefully and politely.

Throaty grunts–some fading into soft, almost tender moans–fell on your ears in an increasing succession. It was enough to drive anyone far up the wall. Especially when he’d already given you such a clear-cut example and beautiful snippet of what was to come.

Almost on their own, your hips began to bounce back on him in the slight of chasing more of the friction that was your only–inadequate–sense of relief. “Aww, ‘s the matter, pretty boy?” Once again, that patronizing coo of his pet name stole a whimpered complaint from your mouth. It felt mostly on deaf ears with your face being so submerged into the plush. “Doesn’t this feel soo nice? Hm? Remember what we talked about..”

“I-it does..it feels..hah, amazing…” You’d meekly reply.

He cocked his head to the side, angling an eyebrow at you before planting an arm squarely beside your face, then using his free hand to guide your eyes up to his. “Buttt..”

“I told you..” It was then that Satoru got to see the true effect of all his ruthless teasing–you were already tearing up. His snow blues widened at the sight of the mild wetness that had begun to spring from your eyes and stain your cheeks. “..‘S not enough..I’m burning inside and you’re being fucking..mean.”

Oh, but how could he not?

The entire night, you’d been casting glances, slipping words under your breath and essentially leading him all the way on. It was–one of–the more irritating ‘jobs’ that he’d ever gotten but after having a taste of you..? Seeing how those pouty expressions became twisted and eventually fell away once you really started to feel it..how could he resist..?

“Ah, I see now..” he drawled, lining himself up once again. Luminous depths all muddled with lust and something just simply carnal lurking behind them, his breath hitched and so did yours when he slipped the tip in. As much as you wanted to recoil, he held your face there, clawed nails softly digging into your cheeks. Mouth hung open above yours, his lips just ghosted with the heat of his every exhale. “I’m sorry, baby..you must be in agony, huh..? You’ve already had such a bad night..”

Inch by inch, he watched with hawk-eyes the gradual descension of your facial expression–so needy, so fucking pathetic–alll because of him.

Oh, that was just the half of it.

From this angle, this position..fuck was he reaching deep. Deeper than before it felt–and even then, he didn’t stop until he was fit so snugly inside. “S-shit..might get fuckin’ addicted to this,” he huffed once again, then pressing his sweat-riddled chest against your fluttering spine. “Let me help you forget about all your problems..you deserve it. Just lie there, look good, and take everything I have to offer..”

With that low mutter, he sealed your lips together and kicked up his rhythm–obscene and just downright filthy sounds coming from the connection between the two of you. Instead of the grind he’d grown and nurtured beforehand, his hips were slamming into you, making that harsh slap each time that his pelvis pressed up against the fat of your ass. It was enough to have your legs trembling just a few minutes in.

Over and over and over, just fucking pounding you in. Your moans and gasps for air were all swallowed up into his slick maw as he dominated the kiss with ease. His tongue was mapping out each crevice of your mouth. As much as you thought he tasted sweet enough to make your dentist fly into a fury–he thought you tasted fucking divine.

“God-damn, holy–keep it arched like this..just like..ahh…” He began to roll his head back but just as he did, your hand came up, tugging him back down over you by one of his horns. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. A brief widening of his eyes and he was now hooking his big hands into the junctures of either of your hips, pulling you back with a harsh tug that made the precision of his thrusts seem all the more brutal.

One hand firmly clasped on the protrusion of his head, ever-adjusting, another scrunching up your poor pillow as yet another round of tremors rang out through your spine. Your lips were fallen open in such a blissed out way that all manners of sounds were coming from there. Ranging from, “Right there..! R-right fuckin’ ohhh..!” to strings of, “S-slow– mhn..! Can’t take..haah..” It was so endearing how you couldn’t even properly place what exactly it was that you really wanted.

Slithering a hand from its holster, he wrapped around, once again laying his chest on top of you but this time sinking his weight down into you in a way that made your body tense and you could’ve sworn you heard the zip! Signaling a short circuit in your brain when your prostate was dug into sooo fucking deliciously.

What definitely wasn’t helping were the fingers that had found your sorely forgotten shaft–left to leak endless strings of pre down onto your sheets as you were dicked down into them. Methodically twisting his wrist on the upstroke, he eventually noticed how your ass was rutting back against him, encouraging him to continue his relentless pursuit. “I can’t..hngh..make you out…” heavily panting, he began to leave the back of your neck and shoulders branded with the map of his sharp canines and incisors.

Another one of those hearty chuckles, just a little less throaty and more breathless than anything and he was kissing up along your shoulders. “You’re really something, y’know.”

“..‘Toru...”

“Yess, handsome?” That purr was enough to make you flush, maybe even a bit more than how he was literally jerking you off while keeping at a standstill inside.

Pulling your face up and out of the small huddle you’d made amongst your arms, you gave him that glossy-eyed look. Oh you felt him throb. “I’m..getting close again…”

“Oh yeah? Aaand..you’re getting close to..what, exactly?” Even now, he wasn’t letting up on his teasing, sliding his fist up to create a lewd squelching sound along your weeping tip. A careening moan stopped what you were going to say next but it was so cute to hear you struggle to form the most basic of sentences.

“..Fuck.. ‘m gonna cum..”

“Already?”

His response made your cheeks stain with crimson once more as you then coyly nodded along. “I want you to..cum with me…You didn’t before.”

God.

Maybe he was just turned on or maybe it was his heart melting, but that ignited something inside of Satoru that he couldn’t explain. All that you knew was that he was practically smothering you now, big, strong arms gathered around your head as he buried his face into the crook of your neck–fucking ramming his cock deeper and deeper with all due haste.

Your fingers came up to scratch at his biceps, clawing at the skin there as your voice grew louder and louder, more and more strained and finally being dulled out by the pillow whilst you were sent barreling over the edge. Incoherencies flowing from your mouth like a fountain–akin to how your dick was pumping out rope after rope of burning release onto the sheets. It didn’t help that even when your body grew rigid and you were shuddering through your climax–he kept going.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..” Chanting over and over, each weighted slap of his balls up against your sore taint was plowing you through your already-powerful orgasm and straight into overstimulation. He would’ve been more gentle, would’ve stopped and maybe rubbed the rest out after you came but the way your hole was fucking clinging to him–as if begging him to stay–he knew that was a lost cause.

His breathing faltered, got caught in his throat a few times before he was whining in your ear. It was hard to make sense of, given your deliriousness and the fog that was beginning to mar your psyche but something along the lines of, “My name, f-fucking say my name..” he pleaded. “Wanna let this..whole fuckin’ neighborhood know who’s the first..who’s the best fuck you’ll ever have.”

In a blind state of compliance, you tried your hardest to follow his command.

“Satoru–”

“Fucking wrong.” He bit.

Trying again, you rolled your neck off to the side, resting your cheek down into his forearm as you helplessly mewled underneath him. So close already, his cock was pulsing inside of you with each rapidfire, short stroke he made. “Jesus fuckin’--ahh..! ‘Toru, ‘Toru..oh my fuck, ‘Toru..!” With how syrupy sweet his name sounded on your lips, it was no surprise at all when you felt the first spurts of cum begin to paint your insides when you said it.

‘Toru, Toru, Toru’ over and over--he rode out every last second of his climax with deep, guttural groans of your name, essentially returning the favor a bit. By this point, your mind was already swamped with pleasure that had long since had your eyes simply rolling. That burn had begun to dim down and it seemed as though he was spent as well–for the most part.

Basking in that pretty afterglow, he finally let some of his weight stop pinning you down to the mattress and opted for leisurely laying on top of you. “Hey, not too bad at all for a first timer.” like a switch was flipped, he was right back to his casual, smug demeanor. Still out of breath but steadily regaining his senses, he brushed back a few strands from your face before letting his softening shaft slip out. Teasing the tip a bit before the pop! rang out, almost immediately his load started to drip down your thighs.

Only then did you let your hips sink back down with an unceremonious fall.

He glanced over the sight with rapt attention–he couldn’t help but glide his fingers through the mess he’d made of you. You felt a small shiver run up your spine when he did, lifting your head up and off of the pillow just enough to look back at him through your tousled locks. “Seriously, Satoru?”

“Aww, what? I liked it when I was ‘Toru’.” He’d whined with a feigned look of dejection.

Rolling your eyes, you turned over on your back and to your surprise–the mark was gone. “Hey, where did–”

“It’s temporary,” Cutting you off just a bit, he smiled. “I came inside, I helped you out, anddd..my job is done.”

Slowly but surely, you watched all of his otherworldly features begin to retreat–his horns disappearing back into his hair, wings folding up and sliding back into place inside his shoulder blades. It looked..painful, but he hadn’t really flinched.

“Does that not..hurt at all..?” You inquired, gesturing toward the clear expanse of skin where his horns had been before.

All he did was shrug it off, bringing a hand up to his neck as he scratched the back of it lightly. “Huh..? Ah, I guess not. It’s sort of like..when humans naturally lose teeth. Orrr, growing and cutting off nails.”

“Kinda gross.”

“You didn’t seem to find any part of me gross a few moments ago,” Swinging his long legs off to the side of the bed, he leaned down to tug his pants back on, keeping his belt messily undone. In another moment, he stalked over to your bathroom and you sat up a bit straighter, pulling your legs into yourself a bit. Your face fell as you thought it was simply over just like that. Well, until he came back with a towel from the cabinet. “Humans are so odd. Keeping towels in such places–they go on racks.” he’d grumbled as he made his way over to you.

Stepping back into frame, he saw the way your face was just a few seconds away from tearing up. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re hurt somewhere..” his features fell somber as he cupped your face, tilting it upward to look back at him.

“N-no it’s..nothing.”

He gave a harsh scoff and once again pulled that smug smirk. “Uhuh. ‘Nothing’ my sweet ass. Talk to me, pretty boy.”

“I just thought..you’d stay a while longer.” Your eyes sideswiped away from his and all Satoru could do was smile even harder, dragging your face to his lips. Peppering kisses wherever his mouth could reach, you soon felt your face growing hotter. “Fuck–quit it..! What’s up with you-?”

Once again, another burst of laughter and he tugged away, unfurling the towel and wiping down all of your sullied limbs and taking extra time to tend to where he’d been paying the most attention beforehand. Knelt in front of you, cleaning off your inner thighs, he was humming lowly to himself. Your fingers carded through his white head of hair enough for him to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is this the part where you say ‘I love you’ and you ask me to stay the night?”

“You ruined the moment, so..I’ll skip over the first part and just say thanks for helping me not be an adult virgin anymore.” You remarked with a small flick of his forehead.

Shrugging, he chimed back, “So I can still stay over?”

“Of course–my couch is always open for freeloaders.”

That was enough for him to know where he stood and get back to cleaning up his mess.

A/N: Kind of my debut into this scene..! You lot showed so much love to the mlist alone! I hope I characterized my precious ‘Toru’ well, I took inspiration. More on the way—enjoy the first commandment. 🧧

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hisfavegirl · 3 days ago

Text

Fated Misconnections.

Pairing : Aegon Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon.

Chapter Summary : A week after the birth of your little brother Joffery, the whispers and abuse your mother received increased. Until she decided for you to move to Dragonstone, a decision that you reluctantly had to agree to.

The news of Rhaenyra’s decision to leave King’s Landing and return to Dragonstone reached every corner of the Red Keep. The whispers grew louder with each passing moment, and soon, everyone knew.

The air in the castle felt tense, as if something monumental was shifting.

You were in your chambers, carefully folding your clothes and placing your small belongings into a wooden chest. The soft rustle of fabric filled the quiet room. Your fingers moved slowly, as if delaying the inevitable. Every item you packed seemed to weigh heavier than the last.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang against the door. Urgent, frantic knocking.

You froze. Before you could respond, the door flew open with a loud creak.

Aegon and Aemond burst into the room. Their breaths were shallow, and their silver hair was a mess from running. Aegon’s eyes were wild, darting around the room before they landed on you and your chest of half-packed belongings. Aemond was calmer, but his eye locked onto you with an intensity that rooted you to the spot.

“No. No. You’re not leaving,” Aegon said breathlessly, storming toward you. His voice was loud, raw with emotion. He stopped right in front of you, his hands hovering near your shoulders as if he wanted to grab you but didn’t know if he should. “You can’t leave. You can’t leave us.”

“Aegon…” you sighed, glancing down at the chest. “I have to. My mother needs me. She needs all of us together.”

“She doesn’t need you,” Aegon shot back quickly, his tone sharp with desperation. His eyes searched yours, his voice cracking slightly. “Not as much as we do. Not as much as I do.”

You felt your heart tighten in your chest.

You glanced at Aemond, hoping for logic, hoping for understanding. But he wasn’t looking at the chest, nor at Aegon. He was looking directly at you. His single violet eye burned with something sharp and unspoken. He stepped forward slowly, his face unreadable but his posture tense.

“You belong here,” Aemond said firmly. His tone wasn’t as wild as Aegon’s, but it was far more resolute. “This is your home. Not Dragonstone. Here. With us.”

“My Mother says otherwise,” you replied softly. “Her place is my place. I am her daughter. I have to follow her.”

Aegon let out a bitter, humorless laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “She’s taking you away from us! She’s taking everything from us!” His words were sharper than before, louder, laced with anger and sorrow. His eyes darted around the room again, like he was searching for something, a solution, a way to make you stay.

“We don’t care about her,” Aemond said, his voice quieter but far more dangerous. He moved closer, his steps slow but deliberate. His gaze didn’t waver from your face. “We care about you.”

“Aemond… Aegon…” you said softly, reaching for them both. You placed one hand on Aegon’s arm and the other lightly against Aemond’s chest. “You’ll always have me. No matter where I go, I’ll always be with you.”

“No, you won’t,” Aegon muttered bitterly, his head lowering so you could no longer see his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, and his body shook slightly as if trying to hold himself together. “You’ll leave and forget about us. Just like everyone else does.”

“I would never forget you,” you said firmly, giving his arm a squeeze. “You’re my uncles. My blood. No one could ever replace you.”

Aemond’s gaze narrowed. He tilted his head, studying you, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn’t believe you. Not fully. Not with the way his fingers twitched at his side, like he was gripping the air to stop himself from grabbing hold of you.

“Don’t lie to us,” Aemond said coldly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like a blade. “You’re going to Dragonstone. You’ll live among them. You’ll fight for them. And one day, you’ll forget about us. You’ll forget who stood by you when you were alone.”

“That’s not true,” you said, frowning deeply. You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek. He stiffened at first, but he didn’t pull away. “You know that’s not true, Aemond.”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at you, his gaze unwavering

You stood at the edge of the ship’s deck, the cool sea breeze tangling your hair and brushing against your skin. King’s Landing grew smaller and smaller in the distance, its towering red stone walls slowly vanishing into the horizon. The proud towers of the Red Keep—a place you had called home for so long—looked smaller than ever before.

Your heart ached. No matter how much you had prepared for this moment, leaving was harder than you had expected.

You glanced over your shoulder. Your mother, Rhaenyra, sat on a cushioned bench, cradling your youngest brother, Joffrey, in her arms. Her face was calm but firm, her eyes distant as she gazed at the waves ahead. Her fingers gently stroked Joffrey’s back in soothing circles, and he yawned sleepily, his tiny hands curled into fists.

Laenor sat beside her, his gaze far away as well, though it was clear his thoughts were not on the sea. His fingers tapped against his leg in a slow, restless rhythm. He had always been like that — still on the surface but always moving within.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against the ship’s railing, gripping the wood tightly. The familiar scents of King’s Landing — warm stone, horse sweat, and the faint tang of the harbor — were slowly replaced by the smell of salt and the endless sea.

You could still hear their voices in your head.

Aegon’s sharp, desperate words. “You’ll leave and forget about us.”

Aemond’s cold, cutting promise. “Don’t lie to us.”

Their faces lingered in your mind. The hurt in their eyes. The way Aegon’s voice cracked when he realized you were really going. The way Aemond had stared at you without blinking, like he was trying to memorize every part of you before you disappeared.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about them.

“Are you alright, my sweet girl?”

Your mother’s voice pulled you back to the present. You turned to see her gazing at you, her head tilted in that soft, motherly way. Concern filled her eyes.

You forced a small smile. “I’m fine, Mother.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if she didn’t quite believe you. But she didn’t press you. Instead, she adjusted Joffrey in her arms and glanced at the sea.

“Dragonstone will be different, but it will be home,” Rhaenyra said, her voice quiet but certain. Her eyes flicked to you, firm with the strength of a princess, but there was warmth in them too. “It will be ours. No one will question us there.”

You nodded, but your eyes flickered back toward the shrinking shape of King’s Landing, still faint on the horizon. It didn’t feel like victory. It felt like running away.

“Do you think they’ll miss us?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Your mother’s eyes softened. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. Her thumb stroked your skin in slow, soothing motions, just as she had done for Joffrey.

“Of course they will,” she said. “But it’s better this way. Away from the whispers. Away from the wolves.”

Her words were meant to comfort you, but they didn’t. Aegon and Aemond were not wolves. They were your uncles. They were your family.

But as the ship sailed further into the vast, open sea, you knew that family was no longer something you could count on. It was something you had to leave behind.

The journey to Dragonstone had been long and exhausting. The sway of the ship still lingered in your legs as you stood at the base of the steep stone stairs leading up to the castle. The cool sea air, sharp with the scent of salt and smoke, whipped against your face, tugging at your hair and your cloak.

Dragonstone loomed above you like a shadowed giant, its sharp, jagged towers piercing the gray sky. The castle was nothing like the Red Keep. It was rough, ancient, and carved from volcanic rock, with dragon motifs curling along its battlements. It looked more like a beast lying in wait than a home.

Your legs felt heavy, each step requiring more effort than the last. The weight of the journey pressed down on you, and the chill of the sea clung to your bones. Every muscle in your body ached, but you kept moving forward, step by step. Your breath came out in soft, visible puffs, each exhale a sign of your exhaustion.

Ahead of you, your mother, Rhaenyra, ascended the stairs with quiet strength, her posture tall and regal despite her weariness. Her silver-gold hair caught the faint sunlight, glowing like a beacon of Targaryen pride. She did not falter. She never did. Beside her, Laenor carried little Joffrey in his arms, the boy’s head resting against his shoulder as he slept, oblivious to the world.

Your brothers, Jace and Luke, climbed ahead of you, racing each other up the stairs, laughing as though they had not spent days on a swaying ship. Their giggles echoed against the stone, breaking the quiet of the wind.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Luke called back to you, grinning mischievously. “We’ll reach the top before you!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. His energy was endless, even after everything. He always found joy, even in places where there was none.

“Careful, Lucerys,” your mother warned, her voice firm but gentle. “The stairs are steep, and a fall from here would be your last.”

Luke slowed for a moment, his grin faltering, but he continued climbing at a more careful pace.

You took another step, feeling the ache in your legs, your hands gripping the sides of your cloak to keep it from getting tangled in your feet. The air grew colder the higher you climbed, and the wind howled louder. For a moment, you stopped to catch your breath, your eyes gazing up at the towers of Dragonstone.

It wasn’t the warmth of home. Not like King’s Landing had been. It felt… distant. Quiet. Lonely.

A soft hand touched your back. You turned to see your mother beside you, her eyes filled with quiet understanding.

“Just a little more, sweet girl,” she said softly, her voice gentle as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Then we will rest. I promise.”

Her warmth gave you strength. You nodded, determination hardening your gaze, and you pushed forward, climbing the remaining stairs step by step. One step. Then another. Then another.

By the time you reached the top, your chest was heaving, and your legs felt as if they were made of stone. You stopped, placing your hands on your knees, gasping for breath.

But you had made it.

The great doors of Dragonstone stood before you — tall, dark, and unyielding. Two guards in black cloaks stood at attention, their spears firmly planted at their sides. As your mother approached, they moved aside, their eyes cast downward in respect.

Your mother glanced back at you, waiting patiently as you caught your breath. Her eyes were soft, filled with pride.

“You did well,” she said, her lips curling into a small smile. “Come, let me show you your new home.”

With slow, deliberate steps, you followed her inside. The stone halls were dimly lit, the air cooler than you expected. The flickering light of torches danced along the walls, casting long shadows that twisted into the shapes of dragons. The air smelled of fire, ash, and sea salt.

As you walked, your fingers trailed along the cold, rough stone of the walls. It wasn’t smooth like the polished marble of the Red Keep. It was raw, unrefined — but there was something powerful about it. It felt alive, ancient, as though the very stones remembered every king and queen who had lived here before you.

Your footsteps echoed through the grand halls. Luke and Jace’s laughter faded into the distance as they ran ahead, their excitement filling the space like birdsong in a forest.

“Not too far,” your mother called after them. Her voice carried authority, and the echoes of it bounced off the high stone ceilings.

You gazed up at the vaulted arches overhead, wondering how many dragons had flown above them. How many dragons had been called here. You thought of Aegon and Aemond back in King’s Landing, their faces flashing in your mind like ghosts. Would they think of you too? Would they miss you as much as you already missed them?

You shook the thoughts away. This was your new home now. Dragonstone would be your fortress, your shelter, your sanctuary.

Your mother’s hand found yours again, fingers wrapping gently around yours as she guided you down the hall. Her warmth chased away the cold stone air.

“Come,” she said. “You will have a room of your own with a view of the sea. You’ll hear the dragons at night, calling to each other.”

Her voice was soft but certain, like a lullaby.

You stepped into your new chamber, the faint creak of the heavy wooden door echoing behind you. The first thing that caught your attention was the wide, arched window on the far wall. Golden sunlight streamed through it, illuminating the cold, gray stone of the room with a soft, warm glow. You approached it slowly, drawn to the view beyond.

Stretching out before you was an endless expanse of blue — the sea, vast and unyielding, glittering like a field of sapphires beneath the midday sun. The waves rolled in a steady rhythm, their distant crashes against the shore like a song that only the sea could sing. The salty breeze brushed softly against your face, carrying with it the faint call of gulls and the distant, guttural roars of dragons from beyond the cliffs.

Your gaze lingered there for a moment longer. It was beautiful, but it was not the view you were used to. The sprawl of King’s Landing, with its bustling streets and crowded markets, had always been full of life, movement, and noise. Dragonstone was different. Quieter. Wilder. Lonely.

Behind you, you heard the soft rustling of fabric as one of your maids entered, carrying a small trunk of your belongings. She set it down near the large wooden bed before bowing her head. “Shall I help you unpack, my lady?” she asked softly, her voice respectful but distant.

You glanced back at her and gave a small nod. “Yes, please.”

For the next hour, you worked together, pulling out dresses, cloaks, and trinkets from your old life. The maid carefully folded each gown and placed them in the carved oak wardrobe by the wall. You arranged your personal items on the wooden shelf near the bed — a small figurine that Jace had given you on your nameday, a silver hair comb from your mother, and a bundle of pressed flowers from King’s Landing, gifted by Aegon before your departure. You ran your fingers over the dried petals, their colors faded but still soft to the touch.

“Do you miss them, my lady?” the maid asked as she smoothed the wrinkles from a cloak. Her voice was quiet but curious.

You blinked, glancing over at her. You didn’t need to ask who she meant. “Yes,” you admitted softly, fingers still resting on the dried flowers. “I miss them very much.”

Her eyes flickered with understanding. “You’ll get used to it,” she said gently, folding the cloak and placing it neatly on the shelf. “Dragonstone has a way of growing on you. The quiet isn’t so bad once you learn to listen to it.”

You glanced back toward the window. The sound of waves crashing below was constant, like a heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Eternal.

The days at Dragonstone passed slowly. Each morning, you woke to the sound of distant dragon calls echoing across the cliffs. The chill of the stone floor nipped at your feet as you rose from your bed. It had been almost a week since your arrival, but the silence still felt strange. Back in King’s Landing, every day had been filled with noise — the clamor of horses, the calls of merchants, and the ever-present hum of people gossiping in the halls.

Here, there was only the sea, the wind, and the dragons.

You spent much of your time walking through the castle gardens, such as they were. The “gardens” of Dragonstone were not like the lush, colorful gardens of King’s Landing. There were no roses or delicate lilies, no chirping birds or marble fountains. Instead, there were hardy plants and wildflowers that grew in the cracks of stone and the shallow soil near the cliffs. Lavender, thistles, and wild grasses swayed in the wind, strong and resilient, just like the people who lived here.

You often found yourself drawn to one particular path that led to the edge of the cliffs. From there, you could see the sea stretching endlessly in every direction. The spray of saltwater brushed against your skin when the waves crashed against the rocks below. Sometimes, you would spot the dragons flying overhead — shadows moving across the clouds with the beating of mighty wings.

“It feels as though the world is holding its breath,” you thought to yourself as you gazed out at the sea one afternoon. The wind tugged at your hair, carrying with it the distant roar of a dragon. It wasn’t like King’s Landing, where there was always something happening. Here, everything was slower. Quieter. Too quiet.

At times, you wondered if your uncles missed you. Aegon and Aemond had been the hardest to leave behind. Aegon, with his carefree charm and playful smirks, had always found ways to make you laugh, bringing you little gifts or flowers as if you were a princess in one of his songs. Aemond, quieter but no less thoughtful, had a way of watching over you without saying a word. His gifts were more deliberate — a book, a polished stone, a carved figure of a dragon. He never said much, but he was always there.

You wondered if they felt your absence as much as you felt theirs.

One afternoon, as you sat near the cliffs, pulling wildflowers from the cracks in the stone, Jace and Luke ran up to you, breathless from play. Their cheeks were flushed, and their hair stuck out in wild tufts from the sea breeze.

“Come see!” Luke shouted, grabbing your hand and tugging at you. “There’s a cave! Jace found it, and it looks like dragon eggs might be inside!”

You arched an eyebrow, doubt flickering across your face. “Dragon eggs?”

Jace crossed his arms, his face filled with pride. “It could be! Maester says dragons sometimes leave them hidden in caves. Come on, you have to see it!”

They pulled you along, their excitement too strong to resist. Their laughter echoed down the stone corridors as they guided you toward the cliffs. For the first time in days, you felt something stir in your heart — a flicker of joy, of adventure, of belonging.

When you reached the cave, it was little more than a hollow carved into the side of the cliff, narrow and dark. Luke was already crawling inside, calling back to you, “Come on, it’s not that small!”

You crouched down, looking into the cave’s narrow entrance. It was damp, the air thick with the smell of wet stone and seaweed. Jace crouched beside you, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, his grin teasing.

“Of course not,” you said, raising your chin. “But if a dragon is hiding in there, I hope it eats you first.”

Jace laughed, and the sound was so familiar — so normal. You followed them inside, your heart thudding in your chest. For the first time since arriving at Dragonstone, it didn’t feel so lonely.

That night, as you sat around the dining table with your family, the dim glow of the hearthfire flickered softly against the stone walls of Dragonstone’s dining hall. The quiet hum of dinner conversation was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

One of the guards entered, his armor clinking softly with every step. He bowed his head respectfully before approaching your mother, Rhaenyra, and placed a sealed letter in her hand. The wax seal bore the mark of House Velaryon — the sigil of the seahorse pressed into deep blue wax.

“From Driftmark, my princess,” the guard announced before stepping back into position by the door.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered on the seal for a moment longer than usual, her thumb brushing over it slowly. Something about it made her pause. Her brows furrowed slightly as she broke the seal and unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the words with growing intensity.

The room grew quiet.

You glanced at your mother, watching her face shift from calm focus to something more troubled — her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes hardening. Her fingers tensed on the parchment.

“What is it?” Laenor asked from across the table, his gaze narrowing in concern. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes locked on her.

Your mother didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze flickered to you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Her eyes softened, but there was something in them you didn’t quite understand — something distant. She glanced at Laenor and then back at the letter in her hand, as if weighing her words.

Finally, she took a steady breath and folded the letter in her lap. Her gaze remained downcast for a moment longer before she lifted her eyes to meet Laenor’s.

“Leana is dead,” she said softly, her voice steady but burdened with grief.

The silence that followed was absolute. You felt a chill crawl up your spine as the weight of her words settled into the room. Your hands, which had been resting on the table, slowly curled into fists on your lap.

“No,” Laenor muttered, his face contorting in disbelief. He blinked several times, as if trying to convince himself he had misheard her. His lips parted, his breathing growing unsteady. “No, that can’t be right.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes met his with quiet sorrow. “She died in childbirth.” Her voice was gentle, but her words cut sharper than any blade. “The babe did not survive either.”

Laenor’s face crumpled. His hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. He hung his head, his shoulders trembling. His breath came in shallow, uneven huffs as he tried to contain himself, but his grief was too heavy. He closed his eyes, as if doing so might block out the pain.

Your heart ached as you watched him. Leana was his sister. And though you had not known her as well as he had, you knew what family meant.

Jace and Luke looked at each other, both confused and worried. Luke tugged at Jace’s sleeve, whispering, “What does it mean? What happened to Auntie Leana?”

Jace didn’t answer. His face was blank, his eyes distant, but you could see the subtle shift in his expression — the quiet understanding that someone was gone, someone important.

Your mother reached for Laenor’s hand, her fingers curling over his knuckles. She squeezed gently. “Corlys and Rhaenys have called for us to attend the funeral tomorrow at Driftmark.”

Driftmark.

The name of the Velaryon seat rang in your mind like a distant bell. It was a place you’d only visited a few times, but you remembered its rocky shores and stormy skies. It wasn’t a place of warmth. It was a place of power, of salt and stone.

Laenor said nothing for a long time. His head remained bowed, his breath shallow but steady. His other hand ran down his face, wiping at his eyes. You’d never seen him like this before — broken.

“I’ll be ready,” he muttered at last, his voice strained. He didn’t look up.

Your mother gave his hand another squeeze before letting go. Her eyes flickered back to you and your brothers. Her gaze was soft but firm. “You will all accompany us.”

You nodded, your throat tight. You felt something heavy in your chest — an ache you didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t your grief, not really. But it was the grief of your family, and you felt its weight all the same.

Luke sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Jace’s jaw was tight, his hands folded in front of him. You glanced at Joffrey in his cradle, still too young to understand the weight of the world he had been born into.

That night, the warmth of the hearth didn’t feel as strong. The food tasted duller. The quietness of the hall felt heavier.

You went to bed early, curling into your blankets, but sleep did not come easily. Images of the sea filled your mind — crashing waves and distant cliffs, the stormy shores of Driftmark. You wondered if Leana had been afraid, if she had known her end was near. You wondered if she had called for her daughters, or for Daemon.

Daemon.

You thought of him too. You had only met him a few times, but he was impossible to forget. Daemon Targaryen was fire wrapped in flesh — dangerous, unpredictable, and wild. He had a look in his eyes like he belonged to no one but himself.

Would he be at Driftmark tomorrow?

The thought of it stirred something uneasy in your heart.

Tomorrow, you would stand on those cold, stormy shores. You would watch the sea claim another soul. And you knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same after that.

Driftmark greeted you with an atmosphere as heavy as the waves crashing against its jagged shores. The sea, usually an endless expanse of strength and power, seemed furious today — its waves clawing at the rocks as if mourning alongside the living. The sky was a dull gray, mirroring the somber mood that hung over the island.

You sat in the carriage beside your mother and father, the rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves blending with the distant roar of the sea. The inside of the carriage was silent, save for the faint creak of its wooden frame as it swayed gently with every turn.

Your eyes drifted to your father, who sat across from you, his head leaning back against the cushioned seat. His face was pale, his usually vibrant expression replaced by one of emptiness.

Laenor Velaryon — a man known for his charm and laughter — looked hollow. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his cheeks bore the faint traces of dried tears. You had never seen him like this before. It was unsettling to see someone so full of life now sitting so still, so consumed by grief.

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to comfort him, to reach out and take his hand, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you settled for watching him, hoping your silent presence would be enough.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She didn’t speak either, but her eyes were filled with quiet concern as they flickered between him and the window. You could tell she wanted to ease his pain, but she, too, seemed unsure of how to reach him.

The carriage jolted slightly as it hit a bump in the road, pulling Laenor from his thoughts. His gaze shifted to the window, where the jagged cliffs of Driftmark loomed closer. The great castle of High Tide was visible in the distance, its dark silhouette standing firm against the restless sea.

“She loved this place,” Laenor muttered suddenly, his voice hoarse.

Your mother turned to him, her brows furrowing. “What?”

“Laena,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke her name. “She loved Driftmark. Even when we were children. She would always run to the cliffs, no matter how many times she was told it was dangerous.” He let out a soft, bitter laugh. “She wasn’t afraid of anything.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “She was brave,” she agreed quietly. “A true Velaryon.”

Laenor nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on the window. You could see the grief etched into every line of his face, the weight of loss bearing down on him like a storm.

You glanced back out the window, watching as the sea grew closer. The salty air stung your nostrils, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks filled your ears. It felt as if the island itself was mourning.

As the carriage slowed to a halt in the courtyard of High Tide, you took a deep breath and looked at your father one last time before stepping out. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes distant, but he managed to rise and follow your mother without a word.

The courtyard was bustling with activity, mourners dressed in black moving solemnly toward the castle. You spotted Corlys Velaryon, your grandfather, standing at the entrance, his face grim and unreadable. Beside him was Rhaenys, your grandmother, her expression a mask of calm composure, though her red-rimmed eyes betrayed her sorrow.

The world felt heavier here, as if Driftmark itself was bowing under the weight of grief. You felt small amidst it all — a child in a world of sorrow and loss.

Your mother reached for your hand, guiding you toward the entrance. The sound of the sea grew louder in your ears, and you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder at the cliffs in the distance. Somewhere out there, the waves would soon claim your aunt’s body, taking her back to the sea she had loved so much.

Before the ceremony began, you found yourself wandering through the courtyard of High Tide, the somber atmosphere weighing heavily on your small frame. The salty breeze carried whispers of grief, mingling with the faint murmur of guests gathering for the funeral.

Your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on two familiar figures—your uncles, Aegon and Aemond. They stood near one of the stone archways, their silver hair catching the dim light. But something felt off.

Neither of them looked at you, nor did they greet you. Aegon stared off into the distance, his expression unreadable, while Aemond’s face was stoic, his arms crossed over his chest. They didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge your presence—as if you were invisible to them.

Your heart sank a little, confusion and hurt bubbling inside you. Had you done something wrong?

Before you could muster the courage to approach them, a soft voice called your name. Turning, you saw Alicent, your grandmother, walking toward you. She looked elegant even in her mourning attire, her emerald-green dress a stark contrast to the black-clad mourners around her.

When she reached you, she bent slightly to meet your gaze, her face softening into a warm smile. “My sweet girl,” she said, her tone gentle. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You managed a small smile in return, her familiar presence soothing some of your unease. “I’ve missed you too, your grace,” you replied.

Alicent reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful,” she said, her voice tinged with pride. Then, with a glance toward your uncles, her expression turned more serious.

“They’ll come around,” she said softly, as if sensing your thoughts. “Aegon and Aemond… they’re still upset about you leaving for Dragonstone. They don’t understand why you had to go.”

Her words made your chest tighten. “I didn’t want to leave,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“I know,” Alicent said, cupping your cheek. “But you did what was right—what your mother needed. They’ll see that in time.”

You nodded, though the ache in your heart didn’t fade completely. Alicent gave you a reassuring smile before pulling you into a gentle hug. Her warmth was a small comfort amidst the cold grief that surrounded you.

When she released you, she smoothed down her dress and said, “Come now, let us go inside. The ceremony will begin soon.”

As she guided you toward the hall, you stole one last glance at Aegon and Aemond. Aegon was still distant, his gaze unfocused, while Aemond’s jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. They didn’t look your way as you passed, but you held onto Alicent’s words, hoping that one day, things would be as they once were.

The funeral ceremony had concluded, leaving the air heavy with sorrow and the salty tang of the sea. You found yourself seated on a stone bench near the gardens of High Tide, the faint crash of waves providing a somber backdrop.

Beside you sat Baela and Rhaena, their faces still streaked with tears as they clung to one another. You placed a comforting hand on Baela’s, your voice gentle as you spoke.

“Everything will be alright,” you said, though a part of you wasn’t entirely sure. The weight of grief hung thick in the air, and you could feel the tension between the gathered family members. Still, you wanted to provide some comfort for the two girls who had just lost their mother.

Baela gave you a small, grateful smile, though her eyes betrayed her heartbreak. Rhaena leaned against her twin, her silence speaking volumes.

As you turned your gaze away from them to let them grieve in peace, a strange sensation washed over you—a feeling of being watched.

You shifted uneasily, your hands fidgeting in your lap, and slowly turned your head to search for the source of the sensation. Your eyes scanned the gathered mourners, the stone walls, and the shadows of the hall… until they landed on Daemon Targaryen.

He stood apart from the others, his arms crossed over his chest, his silver hair catching the dim light of the torches. His piercing gaze was fixed on you, his expression unreadable.

There was nothing harsh or threatening in his eyes, but the intensity of his stare made your heartbeat quicken. He wasn’t looking at anyone else—just you.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny. Why was he watching you? What did he see?

Baela noticed your shift in demeanor and placed a hand on your arm. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

Baela nodded, accepting your answer, but as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Daemon’s eyes following you. Even as the mourners began to disperse and the hall grew quieter, his presence lingered in your thoughts.

You returned to the chamber your grandfather had arranged for you, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders. When you opened the door, a wave of relief washed over you as you spotted Helaena sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked up at you with her usual soft, dreamlike smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Helaena!” you exclaimed, running over to her. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I missed you,” she said quietly, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling back slightly to look at her. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

Helaena nodded, her violet eyes shimmering with a mixture of joy and melancholy. “The Red Keep feels different without you. It’s quieter.”

You both sat down on the bed, the day’s exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you caught up with her. Helaena talked about her days in the Keep, how she spent her time wandering the gardens, chasing butterflies, and reading in her favorite hidden corners. You told her about the journey to Dragonstone and how much you missed having her by your side.

The hours seemed to melt away as the two of you laughed and shared secrets, just as you always did. There was a sense of comfort in being with Helaena—a feeling that, no matter what happened in the world outside, you would always have each other.

When the moon hung high in the sky and the candles burned low, Helaena glanced at you hesitantly. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” she asked softly. “I don’t really want to be alone.”

You smiled warmly and nodded. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be alone either.”

Helaena’s face lit up at your response, and she quickly moved to lie down beside you. You both snuggled under the thick blankets, the chill of Driftmark’s sea air forgotten in the warmth of your shared companionship.

As you lay there, you felt her hand brush against yours, and you turned to see her staring up at the ceiling. “Do you think things will ever go back to how they were before?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “Maybe not,” you admitted softly. “But as long as we have each other, it’ll be alright.”

Helaena turned her head to look at you, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re right,” she said, her voice filled with quiet determination.

With that, the two of you closed your eyes, the bond between you stronger than ever. The world outside might have been chaotic and uncertain, but here, in this small room, you found peace.

The sharp knock on your door stirred you from your sleep. The darkness outside the window told you it was still deep in the night. Confused and slightly disoriented, you got up and opened the door to find Ser Criston Cole standing there, his expression grim and urgent.

“Princesses you must come to the grand hall at once,” he said, his voice low but commanding.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, a knot forming in your stomach.

“Prince Aemond has been injured. Gravely,” he replied, refusing to elaborate further.

Your breath hitched as you quickly woke Helaena, explaining as best as you could before the two of you hurried down the dimly lit corridors of Driftmark. The tension in the air seemed to grow heavier with every step, and your heart pounded with dread.

When you entered the grand hall, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks. The room was a whirlwind of chaos and emotions. Your mother, Rhaenyra, stood protectively in front of Luke, who looked shaken but defiant. Blood smeared his face, his small hands trembling at his sides. Across the room, Alicent knelt beside Aemond, whose face was partially obscured by a bloodied cloth. Even from the distance, you could see the raw wound where his left eye had been.

Your heart sank. The sight of Aemond—proud, cold Aemond—reduced to this state sent a pang of guilt and sadness through you. But then Alicent’s voice broke through, sharp and accusatory.

“Your son,” she hissed, pointing at Luke, “has maimed mine. He has taken his eye!”

Your mother’s voice was equally sharp as she retorted, “Your son provoked him! He called my sons bastards! He stole Vhagar from Baela and Rhaena without a thought!”

The words hit you like a blow, and your gaze instinctively turned to Aemond. His remaining eye burned with fury, but beneath it, you could see something else—pain and anger, yes, but also a sense of defiance.

“Is it a lie?” Aemond’s voice, though pained, was clear and strong. “They are bastards.”

The words made your chest tighten painfully, and you looked toward Aegon, who stood beside his brother. His face was stony, but he didn’t deny the accusation.

The air grew thick with tension as you stood there, caught between your loyalty to your family and the ache in your heart for your uncles. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

“Why would you say that?” you finally managed, your voice quiet but filled with hurt as you looked at Aemond and then at Aegon. “Why would you say something so cruel?”

Neither of them answered, but Aemond’s eye met yours, and for a brief moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, perhaps? Or maybe it was just the pain from his injury.

“Enough!” came the voice of King Viserys, who had entered the hall, his face pale and his expression furious. “This family has bled enough tonight! I will have no more accusations, no more fighting!”

But even as the King demanded peace, the damage was done. The rift between the two sides of your family deepened that night, and though you tried to hide it, the pain lingered in your chest. The words they had spoken echoed in your mind long after the hall had fallen silent.

The salty sea breeze brushed against your face as you stood on the edge of the Driftmark dock, watching the sails of the departing ships grow smaller in the distance. Above them, the silhouettes of three dragons glided across the skies, the mighty beasts casting long shadows on the waves below. Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena were leaving, and with them, any fragile semblance of unity that once existed in your family.

You stood beside your mother, her face stoic but her eyes betraying the turmoil within. Blood had been spilled, bonds had been broken, and the rift between your family and the Greens seemed irreparable now.

For a moment, you turned your gaze to Daemon, who stood not far from you and your mother. He leaned casually against a pillar, his expression unreadable, but his presence was a reminder of the man who had always been on the edges of your life, observing but rarely intervening.

Looking back at the horizon, you let out a quiet sigh. “May I go check on Luke?” you asked, turning to your mother.

Rhaenyra tore her gaze away from the sea to look at you. Her lips curved into a small, strained smile as she nodded. “Of course, my sweet girl. Make sure he knows he’s safe.”

You curtsied lightly before stepping away, your steps echoing softly against the stone dock as you made your way back toward the castle. Your heart ached for Luke, who must be feeling the weight of everything that had transpired. Aemond’s eye was gone, and Luke’s actions—though unintentional—had caused it.

As you entered the castle, the cool, dim corridors wrapped around you like a protective shield. You found Luke sitting in a small alcove near one of the windows, his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His face was buried, but his quiet sniffles reached your ears.

“Luke,” you called softly, your voice gentle as you approached him.

He lifted his head slightly, his tear-streaked face turning toward you. “It’s all my fault,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

You knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know you didn’t,” you said, your voice soothing. “But it wasn’t just your fault. Aemond made his choices too. What happened was a tragedy, but it doesn’t make you a bad person, Luke.”

He looked at you, his wide, innocent eyes searching for reassurance. “Do you think he’ll hate me forever?”

You hesitated, knowing the truth was more complicated than a simple yes or no. “I don’t know what Aemond will feel in the future,” you admitted honestly. “But what matters now is that we’re a family, and we stand by each other. You’re not alone, Luke. None of us are.”

He leaned into you, seeking comfort, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. In the aftermath of chaos, all you could do was offer him your strength and hope that, in time, the wounds within your family might begin to heal.

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