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megwritesriddles · 9 days ago

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In the Middle of the Night (In My Dreams!) ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 21 - Somnophilia. Riddle has to figure out a way to keep Reader happy and covering for his ever increasing duties outside of the castle. What initially starts as a transaction escalates when they're both more willing than he expected, leading them to explore the slightly more forbidden together.

Tags: Somnophilia (consensual), Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, Hand jobs, Oral sex (f and m receiving), Friends with benefits, Denial of feelings, SoftDom!Riddle, HeadGirl!Reader, Manipulation, Faking an illness (chronic fatigue is very real, he's just a lying POS, only briefly mentioned).

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 5.1k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Okay so despite this poll (sorry), I edited this into a less dark kinktober fic and will then release a much darker (non-con elements) part two after I finally finish kinktober!! This works as a stand alone if you're not into reading that kinda stuff (which I totally understand, ily dw)!! It just felt too dark for kinktober... even tho I literally have non-con as the prompt for day 25.... idk okay!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

PART 2 COMING SOON !! (but works as stand alone)

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The moment the two of you had been announced as Head Boy and Girl at the start of the year, Riddle knew he had to get on your good side. Not only for the purposes of professional engagements and living in the same quarters but also because there would be a lot he’d need from you. Last year, he had found a flaw in the enchantments around the castle, discovering that apparition in and out of the castle was in fact possible, so long as you did so from the room of requirements. He has started attending to business outside of the castle regularly, rallying supporters in closed-off magical communities, among trolls and elves. He also searches for artefacts and researches dark magic when he finds the time, visiting isolated collections owned by old eccentrics who he is able to charm easily. He’s made himself a busy life outside of Hogwarts which he’s determined to keep up in order for his plans post-graduation to go as smoothly as possible. Which is where you come in.

He leaves for these expeditions every weekend, but obviously, he’s not actually allowed to leave the castle. He has to ask you to cover for him if anyone asks where he’s gone. He concocts a rubbish story about having chronic fatigue and having to rest all the time he can, and that he can’t possibly be disturbed while he’s resting as he’s taking special potions for sleep. It’s all a lie, playing on your empathy, which he knows you have droves of, something you are widely admired for. He tells you that he’s horribly embarrassed about it and doesn’t want anyone to think he’s incapable of being Head Boy because of it, so asks you to cover for him if anyone asks about him. You give him those big sympathetic eyes and agree, workshopping a litany of excuses with him. He almost feels bad with how seriously you’re taking this, how much you want him to feel okay, even though you’ve never liked him much before. Almost. It won’t happen a lot either way, he’s told his ‘friends’ that he will be out of reach and very sternly told them not to question, so they won’t poke around, and anyone else who needs him won’t need him often. He makes a show of being very tired in the evenings in the common room the first few weeks you live together. Soon after, he drops the charade and you don’t seem to notice the falsification happening right in front of you, continuing to cover for him every now and then when it comes up. You even comment optimistically that he seems more energetic lately, to which he smiles.

“I suppose so, yes, it must be that I can finally get the rest I need, thanks to you,” he says smoothly, proud of himself for taking this as another opportunity to keep you pliable. You seem overjoyed to be helping.

In return, he keeps you sweet. At first, he merely observes you to get an idea of what might keep him on your good side. Then, he starts showing up for you. He brings your favourite pastries from breakfast (you have a bad habit of sleeping in, which sometimes makes him wonder how you got this job, but alas), accompanied by a coffee just how you like it. Complimenting you whenever you try a new hairstyle or dress up nicely on weekends. The first time he’d done it, he’d commented on a trim you’d gotten to your hair over the weekend in Hogsmeade. You were baffled, saying no one had noticed a thing all day. He sensed that you found the fact that he was the only one to notice odd, but he couldn’t help being observant. He told you as much, and you just smiled. He makes sure to do any favours you ask of him, so you can’t throw his refusal back in his face in case you want to stop helping him, he needs something to hold over your head. It’s never much, perhaps helping you with a bit of schoolwork, listening to a speech you’ve prepared for Head duties or just jostling the logs in the fireplace of the common room when the flames die down. He’s surprised you don’t ask for more, considering that he starts asking for a lot from you.

His schedule outside of Hogwarts gets complicated, requiring him to head out occasionally in the middle of the week. You always cover for him, insisting to professors that he’s ill in bed, even though it’s clear by now that you’ve realised he’s actually missing during these periods. Your enthusiasm over helping him out has dwindled as you get the sense you’re being played, but he treats you well enough that you seem to assume the best intentions. How naive. Having someone so respected by the professors, the head girl herself, lying for him, he knows, is the only reason he’s been getting away with it for this long. He’s ‘sick’ far too often and never seen at the hospital wing, never requesting any medicine or showing any symptoms. He wonders what you think he’s doing when he’s away, doubting you could guess the truth, but you never ask despite your increasingly suspicious looks, which he appreciates. He likes you, you’re discreet, a surprising trait for such a goody-two-shoes as you are. He spends more and more time with you in the common room in his free time, charming you and winning you over, making sure he’s there if you need a favour or a ‘friend’ to talk to. He finds you to be intelligent and likeable, you’re funny, even if he prefers a bit of a darker humour than you have. There are silences as you sit together where you stare at him while he works on whatever schoolwork he deems most important that day, he knows you’re formulating all sorts of theories, your brain turning as you try to make a guess.

“I appreciate you being discreet,” he says simply one night as you sit together, working separately on assignments. The statement is followed by a silence in which he is tempted to look over at you to see your reaction but resists the urge.

“I don’t suppose you’ll ever tell me what you’re up to?” It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out as a statement. You already know he won’t, and he knows it too. No matter how good you’ve proved to be about covering for him, if you knew the true nature of what he was up to, you’d run. Tattle before even letting him explain, which really wouldn’t help either way. He turns to you, extending an arm.

“Come here,” he nods his head in his direction. You look confused, and he doesn’t blame you for feeling that way, he isn’t affectionate with anyone. He makes a point of never being seen as being soft, which is easy given he isn’t soft for anyone. But he knows the type you are, so sweet and kind, the type that you can be won over with a little affection. There’s no one here to see either of you anyway, he can risk it this once. You slowly scoot into his side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He brushes an errant strand of hair from your face and holds you to his side. “I really do appreciate it, I’m always here if you need anything from me,” he whispers. You look up at him and nod. “Good,” he hums. You spend the rest of the night pressed into his side as you do your homework, it’s odd, but he’s warm and solid, and most girls at Hogwarts would kill to be in your position, so you let it be. It becomes a fairly frequent scene, the two of you snuggled up by the fire, especially as the days grow colder and colder. His hands like to wander, brushing places they probably shouldn’t, but you never stop him or say a word, letting your own hands wander a little too. You don’t talk about it, not with him or with anyone else. You know without words that he doesn’t want it to leave the room. It’s just another secret you have to keep for him.

He starts having the need for more frequent meetings with his little group of in-school followers, the Knights of Walpurgis, as his plans get closer and closer to their time of fruition. The Head Common Room is the perfect place to host, spacious and completely secret, except for from you. He knows he has to sweeten the deal once more to have you leave the common room for long periods in the evening. So one night, while the two of you study together snuggled up, he kisses you. You’re alarmed but immediately kiss back. He knew you would, every girl in the damn school would, but it still feels like an unexpectedly simple triumph. His hand grips your jaw, not allowing you to move away, not that you’re trying to. Your hand gently cups the side of his neck, keeping him close as his tongue carefully breaches your lips, slightly surprised by how willing you are for him. He has a multitude of things he’s considered doing to you, but for tonight, he has to stick with something focused on your pleasure. He doesn’t mind, pleasuring you is an act of domination in its own right. By the end of the night, he has you sat between his legs, your back to his chest as his fingers thrust in and out of you. You squirm and mewl in his ear, your head thrown back on his shoulder, as he holds you securely with an arm around your middle, fucking you on his fingers. He’s high off of the fact he has you completely nude apart from your socks before him, while he’s still fully dressed.

“There we go, darling,” he purrs in your ear, gently pressing his lips to your jaw. “I bet you’ve wanted this for quite a while, haven’t you?” he teases, grinding the heel of his palm against you as his fingers press in and out. You must have, given how quickly you’d let him strip you down, manoeuvre you into the position he wanted, just how soaking wet you’d been from a couple of strategic words of praise. He’d wrongly assumed you’d be a little more prudish, but he was pleasantly surprised otherwise. “I want you to do something for me,” he whispers, slowing his movements a little so you can focus on his words. You whine softly in protest and he smirks. “Tomorrow evening, could you make yourself scarce for… let’s say three hours? Starting from… six thirty?” his fingers caress your inner walls torturously lightly, almost tickling, making you squirm unhappily.

“Where would I go?” you exhale.

“Library? Walk the grounds? Astronomy tower? I don’t mind, darling, as long as you’re not here,” he kisses behind your ear softly. He expects some questions or protests, but none come, only a simple nod. He’s a little surprised how easy things are with you, although it may have a lot to do with how his fingers are currently buried deep in your cunt at present, he concedes to himself. But you’re always easy, always helpful, so willing to give him the benefit of the doubt even though you were more than smart enough to know better. “That’s a lovely girl,” he smiles against your skin. He hesitates, unsure whether to reveal the transactional nature of his kindness toward you, but he feels he must assure you somehow that it will be worthwhile. “I’ll reward you accordingly, I promise. You’ll hurry back to me at nine-thirty, won’t you? I’ll be missing you by then,” he purrs, trying to further pull the wool over your eyes with some flattery. He straightens up to look down at you, your head still resting back on his shoulder. “Won’t you?” he prompts again, kissing your forehead. You nod, giving him a pleading look and bucking your hips helplessly. You want him to keep going, feeling half-insane from his unmoving fingers filling you up.

And that he does, finger-fucking you through two mind-blowing orgasms that night, showering you with ever more ridiculous praises as the night goes on. It’s unclear whether you’re losing your mind to the pleasure and not understanding him, or if he’s just spewing every compliment he can possibly think of. Once you’re thoroughly debauched, he helps you into your bed as your legs are too shaky on their own, laying you down and kissing you goodnight with a slightly stilted tenderness. You watch him in quiet confusion as he retreats from your room, feeling satisfied and yet completely confused.

It becomes a bit of a routine, whenever he needs you to stay away from the common room, or otherwise go out of your way for him, he pulls you into his lap in the evening and tugs down your underwear, pleasuring you expertly. Soon, it becomes harder to tell, as he begins to get you off every night, whether he’s after something or not. You don’t know if it’s just his efforts to make sure you don’t forget to think of him positively, you’re far from oblivious to the fact you’re being bribed, or if he’s just enjoying it at this point. He stretches out your encounters more and more, especially when you start returning the favour, using your hand on him while he does the same to you. You’re pleasantly surprised how aroused he gets just from fucking you on his fingers, always at least half-hard by the time you can get your hands on him. When he introduces his mouth into the equation, you’re sure he’ll be asking something big of you soon. But he doesn’t, nothing new comes up, other than you also beginning to use your mouth on him. He seems to love it, so you suppose it must have been motivation enough. He likes to take his time, to make you feel helpless and desperate, not seeming to care if it leads him to spend long periods of time kneeling before you, which was something you were certain he would have never been caught doing for anyone.

It’s a nice relationship in Riddle's opinion, he gets off and he gets what he wants from you. You make yourself scarce and Riddle is able to conduct his meetings in peace in a perfect setting. Whether you’re using mouths or hands, it’s always intensely pleasurable. He grows attached to the sight of you on your knees before him, his cock deep in your mouth as you look up at him with those wide innocent eyes. You’re amazing with your mouth, and usually willing to get on your knees whenever he’d like you to. It’s a perfect arrangement in this way. He loves to hold you down and make you scream using nothing but his tongue. Some of his friends say that eating out a woman is demeaning, but he never feels more powerful than when he has you crying and begging. He loves to make you beg, long-forgotten is the fact he’s meant to be doing this just to keep you sweet, just to manipulate you into helping him. He’s lost in it now, and no matter how selfish he gets in bed, you keep covering for him, seeming to misinterpret him as generous rather than intensely power-hungry. It works well for his purposes, so he lets you think of him as a giving lover.

He’s a little surprised that you haven’t asked for any exclusivity or any indication of whether he’s bringing in other girls at the times he asks you to keep away. He’s not, of course, but he doesn’t understand why you don’t care to ask. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter, but deep down it does bother him, every other girl he’d ever been involved with, even briefly, had asked to be his one and only. You’re a sweet girl, the type he assumed would fall in love with him the moment he first got his hands on (and in) you, but you haven’t indicated this in any way. He knows you’re not seeing any other men because he keeps an eye on you whenever he can. Even having gone so far as to cancel a meeting with a tradesman in Diagon Alley to stay back and watch you while you think he’s away. Nothing. You go about your day as normal, come back to the common room and curl up to read your book. Just before bed, you attempt to get yourself off and fail, pouting through your night routine. You can’t do it without him, he notes smugly. He wishes he could come help, but he can’t without revealing his spying. By the time he gets back legitimately, you’re fast asleep. Given all of this, he still doesn’t understand why you’re not asking him for a commitment. It’s not that he wants to commit to you, he doesn’t like the idea of being tied down, even if he currently has no interest or energy to pursue anyone but you, but the fact you haven’t asked drives him nuts. You seem happy to get off with him and go to sleep without asking a single question. He lingers in your doorway, watching your frame rise and fall under your blanket with slow breaths, wondering about you.

He’s surprised when you bring it up. How you’d felt his presence in your doorway while you’d been asleep, despite not being fully awake. He explained that he’d been wanting to help you out (his own evasive phrasing) but that you’d been visibly asleep so he’d left instead. At your expression, he asks you teasingly if you’d have liked him to do it anyway, his teasing smirk only growing when you blush and nod. And so a system was set, he tells you to sleep on the sofa in the common room if you’d like his attention during the night, as he has a habit of waking up in the middle of the night to fetch water. You agree and you proceed together like normal for the next few days, pleasuring each other in the evenings when he isn’t busy. Every night, even on nights he wasn’t actually waking up naturally, he would come into the common room to check for you. For a long time, you’re not there, and he’s a little frustrated with you. Why dangle such a tantalising idea in front of him if you never meant to go through with it? He’d been a perfect gentleman, telling you that you could say no if the idea made you uncomfortable, but at the time, you’d seemed apprehensively excited about it, yet now, nothing. His eyes stay glued on your door as he goes about getting his water each night, wishing he could go in there. He tries his best not to show his disappointment when he spends time with you in the daytime, not wanting to come off as pushy and drive you away. He needed you to like him, staying on your good side was non-negotiable and pushing you on a matter like this was generally frowned upon. About a week and a half later, he trudges from his room to top up his glass and sees a lump under a blanket on the sofa. It’s you.

He immediately slows and lightens his footsteps, not wanting to wake you as it would ruin the fun. He hadn’t had time for you the last four days, between increasing stakes when it came to schoolwork and closing in on a magical artefact outside of it, he’d been gone for everything but class and sleep. He creeps over to you, seeing your peaceful face squished against the velvet throw pillow. You must have missed him, he thinks, since you started your little mutual arrangement you’ve never gone more than two days without each other before, mostly because Riddle found himself quite insatiable. He’d always told himself he was uninterested in matters of the flesh, that he enjoyed indulging but could easily control himself, and that he was only doing what he was with you to manufacture a sense of closeness and keep you in the palm of his hand. Yet, he had to admit that he doesn’t usually go so far for the purposes of manipulation and that he never would have done this in the first place if he hadn’t found you attractive. He was unwilling to sacrifice his own happiness for his manipulation, beyond a bit of necessary flattering drivel. So when he’d allowed himself into this arrangement, even simply under a pretence, he had quickly lost control of it and become ravenous for the sensations you could offer. He watches your parted lips as you breathe softly. Gently, he rolls you onto your back, waiting to see if you wake. You don’t. He slips the plush blanket down your body and exposes you to his eyes. You’re dressed in a sweet feminine nightgown and he finds the look to be sweet on you, fitting. You were a perfect thing to corrupt. Yet, he smirks to himself, you had agreed to this, you were already corrupted, so desperate for him that you wanted him even in your sleep. Surely you did want exclusivity from him, you were just trying to appear laid back to not scare him off. You could be endearingly shy like that at times. Yes, you agreeing to this was surely evidence that you wanted more from him than you had. That you needed him.

He slowly and cautiously shifts you around until he can settle comfortably between your legs. His hands run up and down the soft skin of your thighs, keeping a close eye to see if you stir. He wonders if you’re really such a heavy sleeper, or if you’re merely pretending not to have woken for his benefit. At the moment it doesn’t matter to him, you seem asleep enough, and if you are conscious, you’re hardly objecting. He pushes up the hem of your nightdress and grins at the sight of you already bare for him, with no underwear in sight. Naughty girl, he thinks to himself as his hands skim up and down your inner thighs, leaning forward to press a soft kiss just above the little patch of hair shielding the part of you he wants most. He would love to tease you and draw it out more, but he doesn’t want you to wake before he can explore the more intimate aspects. He carefully lies down, guiding one of your supple thighs over his shoulder, spreading you open for his eager eyes. You’re already a little wet, he wonders if it’s from his teasing now, or perhaps your dreamy anticipation. He knows he can get you wetter easily. He uses two fingers to gently spread you open even more, revealing the sensitive pearl nestled within your folds. He blows lightly on it, making you twitch a little. He grins.

Still trying to let you stay asleep for now, he leans in and very gently touches his tongue to your bundle of nerves. You sigh softly in your sleep but don’t seem to wake. Your dreams are turning sticky-sweet, you begin to feel warm and floaty, but you’re not conscious enough to register this change properly. You squirm slightly and moan as his tongue gently swirls around your clit, not touching to keep you just bubbling below waking. Your breath is hitching softly, and little noises are leaving your throat. He can tell you’ll wake soon unless he stops, but he figures he doesn’t mind. He wants to see your face when you wake up to his head between your legs. Will you be shocked to start with? Or immediately eager and accepting? He was oddly thrilled to discover this. Your hands slide away from where they rested on your stomach, trying to grab something as he starts to lap at you just a little faster, your breath hitching a little more, exhaling shakily. He’s surprised you’re still asleep, he’s tempted to use legilimency on you to discover what you’re dreaming of. Your face is flushed and your lips parted blissfully, so he figures it’s something nice. His tongue slides up and down between your slick folds, the familiar taste of you spreading across his tongue as you become more and more aroused. He gently kneads the skin of your hip, pulling you a little closer to his mouth, trying to coax you awake without startling you too much. Your eyelids flutter, but you remain asleep, whimpering quietly. He focuses the tip of his tongue on your clit, making the stimulation just a little more intense, watching for your reaction intently. Your fingers tangle into the crumpled blanket by your side, curling into the plush material, and he knows you're on the very verge of wakefulness. He smirks, gently suckling your clit into his mouth.

This rips a loud moan from your chest, which in turn makes your eyes snap open. You try to sit up, blinking blearily, looking a little bewildered, trying to make out shapes in the dim moonlight, to understand why you feel lost in a haze of pleasure. Riddle's hand moves, splaying out on your stomach, pushing you back down and holding you there. Your eyes snap to him, he grins up at you from between your legs, looking unbelievably smug, his eyes glinting in the light of the moon. The sight of him between your legs, the knowledge of what he’d been doing while you’d been sleeping, coaxes another moan from your lips. He eases up a little now you’re awake, going back to gentle teasing licks against your bundle of nerves. Your heart pounds and you breathe rapidly, partially reeling from the sudden awakening, but mostly just feeling amazing. You lie back against the sofa, trying your best to get your bearings while he continues smothering you with unrelenting bliss. He pulls back for a moment, though he instantly replaces his mouth with his fingers, not giving you a moment to think.

“Naughty girl, sleeping without underwear to give me access,” he purrs, his voice rumbling in a self-satisfied manner. You giggle sleepily. You had done that, hadn’t you? He smiles up at you. “Was it a nice awakening, my darling?” he murmurs smoothly, leaning back in to continue his dedicated licks. You whimper softly, your hips twitching before he holds you solidly in place, tutting against your sensitive skin.

“The best awakening, so unbelievably arousing,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, watching him work his magic between your legs. He hums against you. He knows this of course, this was quite possibly the wettest he’d ever had you, only increasing since you’d woken up and become conscious of what he was doing. Your hands slide into his short curls as he works, usually, he might complain about this, but you’re still a little sleepy, and he decides to let it go. You sigh pleasurably, your hooded eyes locked on him. His eyes look up to meet yours as he begins to suckle on your clit once more. Intense pleasure floods over you, your head lolling back, your hands tightening slightly in his hair. You let out a string of desperate moans, moans he’s become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks. You’re close and he intends to get you there, to show you how much you need him, to remind you that you can no longer achieve this alone, if you ever could. He doubles down on his actions, gripping your hip a little tighter to keep you firmly in place. “Oh… Tom!” you plead, trying to grind your centre up into his face. You could get so desperate sometimes, Riddle tuts to himself. “Please,” you beg, anticipating his desire to tease you and hoping to get ahead of it. You need this, badly, he hasn’t been around to help you for days, and the scenario was driving you mad with lust. He’s uncharacteristically gracious, not relenting, continuing to lavish you with exquisite sensation, building you up and up. You look down again, and as his eyes meet yours, the coil in your belly snaps. Your whole body tenses, your back arching off of the sofa, a guttural cry escaping you. He holds your hips in place, continuing his assault as you ride out the climax. Tears gather in your eyes and you feel a little humiliated by how intensely this is affecting you.

After several desperate sobs, you finally collapse back, your hands slipping from his hair. You take several deep breaths as he withdraws from between your legs, sitting up to look down at you. He grabs a tissue from the coffee table, wiping his mouth and discarding it haphazardly. You smile tiredly, and you feel exhausted by your sudden wake-up, but completely heavenly at the same time. You stare at each other for a moment. It’s an oddly domestic moment. You’ve never seen him in his pyjamas before, a matching shirt and trousers, made of silk or some other such soft material, the type that’s popular with the rich Slytherin boys. His hair is a little curly naturally, this you did know from him getting back to the common room on rainy days, but is now slightly messed up from your hands in it. You cover yourself back up, tugging the hem of your nightdress back down as he watches. He looks almost sweet, he has been sweet to you, in his own way. He reaches over and touches your flushed cheek, rubbing it softly with his thumb, unsure whether he’s trying to prove his effect on you, or just wishing to touch you.

“I’ll have to think of something to ask of you in exchange for doing that,” he jokes a little unnaturally. You laugh honestly.

“You didn’t already have something?” you tease, moving to sit up. He smiles, enjoying the way you see through him, just enough to prove you’re not stupid, but not enough to compromise any plans. Perhaps that’s why you haven’t asked for exclusivity with him, you’re not stupid like the others, whether you want it or not being irrelevant to the facts. The facts that were feeling more like theories lately.

“No, believe it or not,” he chuckles, pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “But it’ll be easy enough to think of something,” he pulls you onto his lap and kisses you goodnight. “You always find a way of being useful,”

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xoxoxo

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venusbyline · 1 month ago

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Butterfly ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 12, oct.

— pairing: Helaena Targaryen x brothel worker!reader x Aegon II Targaryen

— type: smut, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: scissoring + voyeurism

— summary: You are Aegon's favorite prostitute and finally meet his wife during one of your special visits to the Red Keep.

— word count: 4.4k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 12th day, Targcest (older brother/younger sister), female!reader, Helaegon, throuple, scissoring/tribadism, voyeurism, praise kink, nipple licking, referenced cheating, overstimulation, crying, sexual tension, breast worship, body worship, curse words, Madam Sylvi mentioned, Aemond Targaryen mentioned, minor Helaemond, past underage sex, bathing/washing, animal metaphors, bisexual!Helaena, sex worker!reader, voyeur!Aegon, switch!Helaena, sub!reader, dom!Aegon, canon divergence (no Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole

— crossposting: AO3

It was not uncommon for King Aegon II to bring prostitutes to his castle. As much as he loved the loud and disgusting chaos of the brothels, sometimes he needed to maintain what little dignity he had left and regard discretion.

You were Aegon's favorite prostitute for everything, including those more... Calm situations. He had met you a few days after his coronation, that day he went to the brothel and asked Madam Sylvi to recommend a younger girl who was not as experienced. He needed the feeling of being with someone cleaner, more innocent, something he was far from being.

Aegon could not say if this demand was because he just wanted to feel less dirty, or if it was because he also wanted to corrupt someone. Both, perhaps.

You were still starting out in that new life and Sylvi saw you as the perfect choice for Aegon. Even though you were not a maiden anymore due to the two weeks working there, your lack of experience before all of this was enough for you to be scared by Aegon's aggressiveness, but it was also enough for him to see you almost like a pretty flower to be protected and cared for.

When Aegon left after cumming, you noticed a few extra coins, as well as seeing him having a serious conversation with Madam Sylvi. You did not know what they had actually talked about, but you noticed the number of men looking for you had dwindled. Which would be completely bad if you did not start being spoiled by Aegon every time he came back there. He would give you more money, sometimes he would bring you some tasty candy made by the best cooks from King's Landing, and sometimes he would even give you random pieces of jewelry. You had to constantly deal with the looks of envy and disapproval from the other prostitutes, despite for Sylvi to keep the situation under control, always arguing about not being able to go against the King's wishes.

Aegon still slept with other women. However, they did not receive tips, much less gifts. Sometimes you even believed he fucked them just so the rumors that he had a favorite whore would not spread.

Then, whenever Aegon slept with another girl, you noticed that he became less aggressive during sex, almost more submissive to you, as if he wanted to compensate. He was extrovert and funny with the people around him, saving his more quiet and almost melancholy side for you and only you. He did not use to talk to you much other than dirty obscenities, enjoying the silence that followed after the sex was over.

Whenever he handed you an expensive gift or a tip that was much larger than expected, you could not help but widen your eyes and he would just shrug and make a mockery about how you needed it. Behind the sarcastic facade, you saw his eyes shining, as if he was enjoying seeing your cheeks flush in gratitude.

It was not long before Aegon began to trust you to visit the Red Keep and pleasure him when he could not go to the brothel. You went through a series of checks before entering and after leaving there. Upon arrival, the Royal Guards always checked that you were not carrying anything that could put the life of the King or any other member of his Royal Family at risk. When it was time to leave, the guards checked to make sure you had not stolen anything. Aegon hated it when he had to argue with the guards and reassure them that the large amounts of gold or some jewelry or dresses had actually been given to you by him, not stolen. He did not mind when they did that to the other girls from the brothels, but he hated it when his men suspected you of being a gold-digging thief or a murderer and put you through all that humiliating stress.

And he hated it even more when he realized that the guards took advantage of those moments to caress the curves of your body or make dirty jokes.

Normally, you spent a maximum of two days in the Red Keep. Arriving at dawn and leaving two moons later. However, Aegon had paid a huge sum to Madam Sylvi to allow you to stay in his castle for two weeks. You did not know exactly what all this was for, but you did not dare argue when the guards escorted you to the private chambers.

"Finally!" Aegon snorted when Martyn and Leon opened the door. "You can leave us alone now." He warned, as the two men nodded and closed the door. "Any scratches? Did they grabbed your arm like the last time?"

You shook your head, looking around the chambers he brought you and noticing that it was a little bigger than the last one. Or at least the bed seemed much bigger.

"Did they make any joke?" He asked, looking you up and down, staring at the robes you wore with disgust. Gods, he so wanted to put you in a beautiful green velvet dress...

"Just the same things as always, My King." You shrugged.

"Aegon." He corrected you little impatiently and almost... Shy. "I have already ordered that you must call me by my first name when we are together and alone." You smiled slightly at his words and nodded. "Fuck, these rags are ridiculous."

You looked at your own clothes, feeling a little embarrassed as you pictured the difference between that cloth and the expensive and perfect dresses that Royal Ladies were supposed to wear. You did not really know what to say, even though you already knew Aegon well enough to realize that was his way of saying that you deserved to wear something prettier.

"You are being very rude, Aegon." Your eyes widened as you heard a sweet calm voice sounding from the door inside the chambers that led straight to the room where there was a bathtub and anything needed for a decent clean.

As much as you knew that Queen Helaena was indifferent about her brother-husband's extramarital affairs, it was still a surprise for you to see her so calmly entering his private quarters, the transparent nightgown leaving her voluminous hips and full breasts on display. You wondered to yourself if she was used to dressing like this frequently in front of Aegon after so many years of marriage, as even he seemed a little confused and focused on her appearance.

"My Queen..." You bowed awkwardly, unsure of what else you should do or say. Helaena was not jealous and did not even feel bad about the King's infidelities, however, you could not help but fear that she would get angry for some reason and send you to the gallows.

Even though she was so dear and sweet to the commoners, she was still a Queen who could turn on you and end your life quickly if she so desired.

"Just Helaena, darling. Or Hel. Aemond used to call me that, although he has not done that for a few years now." She rambled on about the nickname her other brother used to call her, and although you chuckled at the situation, Aegon pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hide the arousal inside his pants at seeing his wife wearing such a revealing nightgown. Despite six years of marriage, he could count on one hand the number of times he fucked Helaena without it being pure duty or sacrifice.

"Helaena, I told you I would have a special guest here at the Red Keep for two weeks." He practically growled, looking at her indignantly.

"I know. That's why I am here." The Queen smiled and approached you, looking around you and touching the strands of your hair, as if she were studying every inch of you. You feared that she would do it with a malicious or mocking way, but Helaena actually seemed very enchanted looking at you. Aegon remembered her younger version, watching her favorite stupid caterpillars with the same fascination she showed now. "I really wanted to meet you. Aegon always tells me that you are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms."

You parted your lips with complete shock at her statement. You did not know what shocked you more, the fact that Helaena was not angry about those words or the fact that Aegon would actually say something like that. About you. A whore.

"What the hells? I never said that!" The King tried to defend himself, his rosy cheeks highlighted before his bright violet eyes.

"Oh, you did. Every time you need my help to picking out a dress or some jewelry to give her." Helaena teased and you laughed lightly, catching Aegon's attention. He was stressed about how his wife was exposing his secret side and at the same time he was intrigued by her sudden interest in you and the way you seemed so soft interacting with her.

"I may have said that once or twice... When I was drunk." Aegon gave in a little bit, still omitting the part that he was perfectly sober in all the thousands of times he said anything romantic about you. He did not even need to look at you to make sure you were smiling at him.

Helaena's hands ran through your hair again, playing with the strands and laughing innocently when she noticed your neck getting goosebumps with her touch, something that left Aegon's heart strangely racing. He was not the best person to make Helaena smile. In fact, he was not the best person to make anyone smile.

But here you two were, giggling like you had been confidants for years. As if Helaena was not his wife and as if you were not his favorite affair. As if there were just the two of you inside the chambers, without him or any man to disturb the female connection between you. He felt almost jealous. Almost.

"Helaena, can you help her take a bath, please? We have to have lunch soon." Aegon asked his sister-wife, patting her shoulder gently. It must not have been a very common act coming from him, because Helaena flinched for a few seconds, before frowning and nodding. Then, he turned to you. "I will be waiting for both of you at the dinner table. Do not be late."

Despite the King's severe tone, you blushed at the realization that he was allowing you to join them for lunch. In the hall. Not like he always did when you served him there, just bringing the banquets to the chambers so you could enjoy some nice food before and after sex.

As soon as Aegon left, Helaena turned to you with an excited smile on her face. "He likes you."

You frowned, shaking your head and trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. "But not the way you think, Your Grace." The words came out embarrassed and a little strained, but Helaena stood her ground, even without arguing with you. She took your hand, not looking disgusted or anything like that, and led you to the door where you had seen her appear. The room was quite large and had a favorably large bathtub, already with some warm water inside, buckets and soap around.

You glanced at her, wondering what you should do next. Just get naked and get in the water? Wait for her orders? When you opened your mouth to say something, a sigh escaped while Helaena moved behind you, her soft hands undoing the weak worn lace of your dress. As it fell to the floor, she looked confused at your lack of underwear or a corset, only realizing the reason behind that when you cringed, both from the sudden cold and from embarrassment.

Not wanting to fill you with awkward questions with obvious answers, Helaena helped you into the bathtub, her gaze lingering on your submerged breasts and the shaved hair on your groin. "Do you always... take it off?"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as you thought about your shaved cunt. You looked at yourself underwater for a few seconds before answering. "Yeah, I do. Madam Sylvi sometimes requires us to remove all the hair from here, because many men like this."

Helaena nodded, for the first time in her life hating the silence that followed an answer. By the way your back was tense when you leaned against the bathtub, she knew she had asked an impolite question. She had not meant to ask about brothel customs, she was just genuinely curious, since she had never considered plucking the blond hair she had on her private parts. They were so pretty and soft, and during the few times Aegon slept with her when he was drunk, he always made some comments about liking them too.

"You should let them grow. Aegon does not mind, he likes them, actually. Seeing them shine when I manage to get wet." Her statement made you look at her in disbelief as you sighed and began to scrub your arms with the sponge that was there next to you. Being a prostitute and being jealous of your affair was not uncommon. But being jealous of both your affair and his wife was absurd. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

You swallowed hard, scrubbing the sponge rougher on your own skin. This was pathetic. Aegon liked Helaena's pubic hair and you were jealous of that, even though you knew they almost never had sex and you were just his whore.

And deep down, you also felt a pang in your chest as you pictured what her cunt must look like and how much Aegon must like it, despite everything. You did not even know her well and you had been fucking her husband for a long time. Gods, you really were irrational sometimes.

"No. You did not hurt my feelings, Hel." You considered calling her My Queen, thanking yourself for changing your mind when you saw her beautiful smile. Helaena watched you bathe, your own hands scrubbing every inch of your body as you tried not to be intimidated by the Queen there by your side. "Do you always do that?" The inevitable question finally took over the messy thoughts inside your brain and you allowed yourself to ask. "Being so lovely with the King's whores?"

It was a dangerous question, a dangerous ground. Being arrogant towards Helaena was not fair. She was being kind and thoughtful, and she also seemed to be enchanted by you. And that was exactly why you were so fucking upset. Would she take a dagger and stab you in the throat if you did not pay attention to her every move?

As rude as you sounded, Helaena did not seem bothered, she stroked your hair again, smiling slightly, her big violet eyes shining with the moisture now hiding from your strands. "No, I do not. I never cared to meet them. But now you are my favorite. And Aegon's favorite too."

Her revelation made your brow furrow, your legs tightening as she touched your neck with her fingertips, studying you as if you were one of her favorite insects. You reminded her of one of the green butterflies she had collected during her childhood but Aegon stepped on when he was drunk, leaving their chambers after consummating their marriage from the first time. It was her favorite butterfly and she had never found one so beautiful as that one. Until she met you.

"Renewal and freedom." She murmured, touching that same sensitive spot on your neck that made you shiver for the second time.

"What does that mean?" You muttered a little alarmed, which made Helaena blink several times before frowning.

"Nothing. I do not know if it's important now."

You let the silence appear in the room again, breaking it only when you noticed how Helaena was staring at the sponge you were rubbing on your stomach. The violet eyes were full of expectation, as if she was yearning for something. Wanting to test your theory, you lowered the sponge to your smooth core, seeing how Helaena became panting and turned her head to stop staring at you. The way she stood up with flushed cheeks made it clear what she was picturing.

"I should get out of the tub now." You said with a soft voice, a hint of a smile on the corner of your lips. Helaena nodded quickly, passing you a towel and doing her best not to admire your body. It was torturous, to say the least.

As soon as you toweled off and wrapped yourself in the towel, the Queen guided you back to the chambers, and you were both a little surprised by the presence of Aegon lying on the bed, arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. "You women were taking your time. I waited like an idiot at the table." The King practically growled and you flinched, making him take a deep breath to control himself, knowing it was unfair to take it out on either of you now. Helaena was enjoying your presence and you never had many opportunities to take such a long complete bath.

Still wrapped in the towel, you faced Helaena and Aegon, noticing the couple exchanging some intense looks, as if they were communicating like that, almost reading each other's minds. Aegon sighed with frustration before muttering. "Helaena is horny for you." He revealed it without hesitation and you almost choked, a look of pure shock appearing on your face when you turned a little to see the Queen's reaction, who shifted uncomfortably, but without denying what her husband had said. Quite the opposite, you noticed how her nipples became more pert under her nightgown. "I suppose brothels do not get female customers very often."

Aegon's mockery did not go unnoticed, and you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. "Very rarely do we have the opportunity to serve pleasure to women."

Helaena became even more turned on after your information, while Aegon clenched his jaw and clenched his hands into fists when he thought about what you needed to do to survive, after all, that was how he met you. But that did not make things any easier for him to accept. You should only be his. At least if he was not the damn Lord of the Seven Kingdoms...

"So you have slept with at least one, right?" Helaena asked with quite a surprising amount of excitement and you mumbled in response. "Yeah, but two or three times at most."

"It's enough to know something, I guess." Aegon grumbled, his arms remaining crossed. The King pondered his options for a few minutes before snorting when he saw clear excitement on Helaena's features. "How much more gold do I need to pay you for you to... Serve my wife?"

You broke eye contact with Helaena to look at Aegon, stuttering like a stupid woman until you managed to utter concrete words. "That will not be necessary. You have already paid me enough to be here for the next two weeks." Then you turned your gaze to the Queen. "Have you... been with women before?"

Helaena's pale cheeks flushed and she nodded, making Aegon scoff at her reaction. "Do not play coy now, wife." He practically growled. "Helaena is not as chaste as she makes herself out to be. Although she rarely beds me, she finds enough distraction with a few ladies-in-waiting... sometimes Aemond."

You let out a surprised sigh, the exchange of barbs between the King and the Queen Consort not something you expected to experience in person one day. But here you were, practically torn between the two of them, both hungry for you in different ways. Aegon moved to the corner of the bed, making room for the two women to sit next to him.

There was another moment of silence. "You will not... Stay closer?" You asked Aegon, your body still damp from the bath and wrapped in the towel, being quite a sight for any being who was attracted to women. However, Aegon shook his head, a light smirk on his lips. "Oh, that will not be necessary for now, darling. I will let my dear sister-wife enjoy you. Today I will just watch."

Your attention turned to Helaena when she touched your cheeks, enchanted by the sight of her eyes shining at you. Aegon gasped when Helaena did not hesitate for another minute. She put her hand on the back of your neck and pulled you closer, placing her lips on yours, the softness of her mouth making the kiss much better, her tongue exploring yours delicately, something different from Aegon's typical anxious despair. Helaena was kissing you like she wanted to never let you go again, while Aegon always kissed you like he was too scared to let go. There was a difference between being intense and being needy. And you loved both types.

Without breaking the kiss, Helaena carefully pulled the towel from your body, throwing the fabric on the floor and moving her hands to your breasts, the drops of water still wet on your skin. She moved her lips down to your collarbone, licking the wetness and squeezing the flesh of her breasts, careful not to press your nipples too hard. You gasped her name, tilting your head back, sighing in surprise when Aegon placed your head on top of his thigh, stroking your hair as if you were a cute kitten.

"Does not she have a perfect body, dear wife?" Aegon teased Helaena, staring at the woman licking your breasts and nodding, the hint of a mischievous smile when she nibbled on your nipple, sucking the bud gently with mock apology. You tried to lift your head from Aegon's lap so you could sit up and undress Helaena, but Aegon held your head down and Helaena let out a giggle. "Do not worry, darling. I can do it myself." She assured, taking off her nightgown. Yours and Aegon's attention turned to Helaena's perfect body, her milky white skin, her full heavy breasts, her soft belly, her thick thighs that perfectly matched her wide hips. She was a divine sight for both of you, and Aegon had to restrain himself from letting his lust get the better of him. He wanted to touch Helaena. He wanted to touch you. Aegon wanted the two girls for himself, but he also knew that Helaena deserved a little fun. Even if he did not admit it so desperately, he wanted you. He needed you. And Helaena was the only pure soul who would never try to steal you from him. Just share, perhaps. He could handle this, if it was only Helaena. He trusted her.

"You should enjoy it while her cunt is still wet from the bathwater." Aegon suggested and he saw Helaena's eyes darken with desire. She nodded quickly, parting her legs carefully. You and Aegon only had a few minutes to admire the sight of her swollen blond-haired cunt before Helaena fitted it into yours, causing you to moan and echo through the chambers. "Shhh..." Aegon whispered with amusement, loving watching you melt so easily at the mere sensation of Helaena's cunt against yours. "Just relax, darling. These two weeks here in the Red Keep will be my gift in honor of your birthday."

Your eyes widened at the mention of your special day. During the weekly rush at the brothel, you had forgotten that you were about to celebrate another year of life. But it was obvious that Aegon would never forget and had probably threatened and paid Madam Sylvi a long time ago until she told him any little detail about you. He needed to know everything.

You did not even have the breath to thank the King, all your mind could now focus on was the feeling of Helaena's luscious cunt rubbing against yours, the slick sounds filling the chambers. She also let out some moans, which were lower than yours, but which contrasted with the intensity with which she held your waist with one hand and kissed yout calf.

"Such delightful sounds... I bet your cunts are completely creamy right now." Aegon groaned to himself watching the scene, caressing your hair as Helaena's breasts bounced when she increased her speed, as if wanting to prove how wet you two were. He laughed, understanding very well. "Seven Hells, Helaena..." Aegon growled, mentally thanking the Gods after you raised your hand to squeeze one of the Queen's breasts, the soft mound compressing and spreading in your fingers, earning more breathless moans from her.

"I am going to cum..." You warned with a desperate whimper, looking back and asking permission from Aegon, who soon nodded. You moaned Helaena's name loudly, reaching your release and feeling your vision became blurry and your legs tremble. Helaena took advantage of your cum to rub herself faster, her clit almost hurting yours, now so sore and overstimulated that Aegon chuckled as he wiped the tears that ran from your eyes. When Helaena came too, she gasped and lay on top of you, your hands squeezing her ass without so much pressure, just enough to try to calm the spasms of your body.

Aegon smirked at the sight of Helaena's large breasts pressed against yours, both practically crushed by each other. The Queen gave you many kisses on your face, telling you praises, thanks and apologies that you could not respond verbally, but smiled and closed your eyes, your hands still caressing her ass. You felt Aegon kiss your forehead and then you heard sighs and wet noises, noticing an intense exchange of kisses between the married siblings.

"I love green butterflies." Helaena's breathless declaration made Aegon chuckle softly, using his other hand to stroke her silver hair.

"I know that..."

You snuggled with your head still on Aegon's thigh and brought your hand up to caress Helaena's sweaty bare back. "Can we have this one if you promise not to kill her too?" She asked in High Valyrian, knowing you would not understand anything.

Aegon frowned, both because of his little knowledge of the ancient language and because of the memories that his sister-wife's words brought to him, the strong implications behind them. He never wanted to kill that stupid green butterfly years ago. It ran away from the vase without Helaena noticing, it was in his way and he just... Passed over it.

"I will try my best." That is all Aegon said in the normal language. You were now Helaena's favorite butterfly from her collection, the only one Aegon liked. And he would not make promises without knowing what the future held for each of the three of you.

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reidrum · 3 months ago

Text

castling | s.r.

A/N: another deeply self indulgent hurt comfort angst who’s surprised…i wrote this kinda fast so if it’s messy and cheesy sorry :/

cw: gn!reader (pls lmk if i missed something that doesn’t make it gn), hurt comfort, mentions of depression, ambiguous sadness, trivialization of chess, inaccurate chess jargon?, spencer is a darling

summary: in which reader finds it hard to open up and communicate their feelings with spencer, so he comes up with an idea to help

wc: 1.4k

not proofread sry

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

_______________________________________________

It started during a game of chess, when Spencer was showing you different special moves.

“It’s called castling, the idea is that you move the king two spaces towards the rook and then switch their places to allow more protection for your king than if it was in the center.”

“Why would you want to move the king towards the outside, that seems counterintuitive.”

“Smart girl, that’s a good question,” he says fondly, “It’s kind of a last ditch effort in a sense, the rook is essentially expendable but the castling moves the king out of the line from key pieces like the other king and queen.”

“So, it’s like a rescue mission.”

He smiles, “Like a rescue mission.”

You smile back and continue with your next move. Spencer watches you in earnest as you deliberate the best plan of attack, even though he knows he’s gonna let you win by the end anyway.

“How was your day today?” He watches your demeanor change quickly, your shoulders sagging slightly and your eyebrows furrowing. He knew the answer, he’s a great observant and even more so when it comes to you.

“It was…fine.”

“Just fine?” he challenges, moving his bishop.

You nod and move your knight. You’re waiting for him to move his next piece when you realize he’s not looking at the board anymore.

Looking up you see hazel eyes staring right back at you, “Sweetheart,”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He sighs, “You know,” he moves his pawn, “this isn't the first time that you’ve had a hard time communicating with me how you feel.”

A deep sigh leaves you now, it had always been a struggle for you to show emotion so openly to those you love, mainly Spencer. You just didn’t want to worry him with the throes of your mind, and while Spencer appreciated the sentiment he reminded you repeatedly that he’s there for you through it all and just really wants you to take advantage of that.

“I just want to help you, angel.” he says softly, “I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong, just that something is wrong.”

Tears well up in your eyes, “I know Spence. I—It’s just, saying out loud that I’m—whatever—makes it real. A—And then you get so worried and I get more anxious—“

“Hey. It’s my job to worry about you. Because I love you,” he places his hands on yours, “But, I was thinking what if we had a code word or something, just a single word, and you can say it or text me or anything and I’ll know that you’re not feeling well.”

Your face softens at his proposal. The irony you face is that your brain has convinced you healing can be done alone, that if you’re the one who fucked up the road you should be the one to repair it. While you know logically healing is more effective when you have support, it doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept the help you need, that Spencer feels you deserve.

“I think…that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” he replies, “Do you want to pick the word?”

You think about it for a few minutes. You don’t want to do a silly word like banana or chicken, you want something that maybe doesn’t sound serious but would still convey the intent of the code word.

“Does castling work?” you offer softly.

Spencer’s face morphs into something you can’t quite decipher, but to him it’s a mix of adoration, love, and pure empathy for you. He’s just so touched by the fact you want to use that word, after just discussing the significance of that move. It’s an honor that you trust him enough to be your protecting rook.

“Yeah, that’s perfect angel.”

You give a small nod, “Check.”

___

You knew he wouldn’t judge you, that’s the whole reason you came up with this system. It felt like an emergency contact, which it was, but in a “How bad is too bad before I call?” type of way.

Laid down in your bed, you stared at the glow of your phone with your messages with Spencer open. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, daring you to make a move.

Nothing even really happened today, it was just one of those periods where you were in a funk. The voices that lingered in your brain fed you disguised truths and cynicism, and it was hard to feel afloat with support when you couldn’t even tell what was pulling you down.

It didn’t matter though, your tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes amongst the disarray of your room which satirically matched the chaos in your mind were proof enough that maybe, you weren’t okay.

In this moment it would be stupidly easy to ignore it all and wallow in your own sorrow—Spencer was away on a case and you didn’t know when he was coming back.

So in a leap of faith, or perhaps a lapse in judgment, your thumbs twiddle a message out and press send.

castling

You toss your phone aside and try to avoid thinking about it. He’s probably busy, they’re on a case so he’s probably drawing out the geographical maps or maybe he’s on a raid or maybe he’s—DING.

Cautiously grabbing your phone, you slide the notification.

I’m on the plane, going to land in about an hour or so. I need to make one stop and then I’ll come straight to you, okay?

You stare through the blurriness of your eyes caused by your tears, the words blending together. Before the guilt of texting him and making him aware of your depressed state sinks in, another text comes through.

I love you. See you soon, angel.

Another choked sob releases from your throat, and you put the phone down before any more emotions try to infiltrate you. At some point you end up falling asleep on the bed, your body curled in on itself from the lack of warmth a nice blanket or Spencer could’ve provided.

You’re only stirred awake when you feel a soothing sensation on your head, long nimble yet intentional fingers sifting through your hair. You attempt to open your eyes through the thin crust it’s formed from crying so much, and you’re squinting for the first few moments of vision before registering the human in front of you.

“Hi honey.” Spencer whispers softly as you come to.

“Spence…when did you…”

“Just a couple minutes ago,” the hand in your hair comes to rest on your jaw, “How are you feeling?”

Tired eyes finally meet his brown ones and find nothing but reassurance and concern.

Oh. You’ve worried him now.

The last string of resolve snaps as your face crumbles in and you mutter out apologies mixed in with sniffles and sobs. Spencer moves from his knelt position in front of you to slide in next to you on the bed. He gingerly gathers you in his arms and tucks you into his side whispering it’s okay and you’re safe and i’m here.

After a few long minutes your breathing evens out. “You came.” you sniffled.

He pulls back to look at you with watered eyes, “You called. I’m so proud of you.”

You mumble under your breath, “I didn’t even do anything.”

Spencer shakes his head and tucks you right back in place, feeling the floppy fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, “I know a version of you that would’ve held it all in by yourself. Thank you for letting me be here for you.”

You turn your head into his chest further, letting the hot tears and snot stain his nice button up. His hands rub trails up and down your back, his head bent down to your ear whispering sweet nothings to you. With Spencer delicately taking your defenses down maybe you can finally admit to yourself that you were just too soft for all of it.

“Where did you have to stop by?” you wonder.

He smiles and readjusts you against his body, “I picked up Thai food,” “And some candy, sour of course. And there may be a Snoopy stuffie as well because it reminded me of you.”

You feel a different weight on your heart, not one that’s constricting but one that’s embracing, comforting. In a life where you’ve rarely felt taken care of, or even being worthy of that care, you know with certainty that Spencer would never let you go a day without knowing how much love and care you deserve.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write something like Evil Queens WandaNat x maid reader? Like reader is a new make and she’s kinda shy and quiet because she doesn’t wanna draw attention to herself, but she ends up doing that anyway when she manages to get out a really bad bloodstain out of the carpet (cause yk Wanda and Natasha did sum evil muahahaha- I’m sorry) Anyways, the maids usually have a hard time getting out blood stains which usually leads to them getting fired or uh- yk. But R caught their attention cause she could and was suddenly appointed as their personal maid and uh yeah you go wherever you want from there

Stains of the Heart

EvilQueens!WandaNat x Maid!Fem!Reader

Summary: Though you try to keep yourself hidden amongst the rest of the maids the Queens you work for take notice of you after being able to clean up properly after a mess they've made.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of dark themes, mentions of blood, sexual themes

A/N: I feel like I could have made them more evil, but this is what came out as I wrote. These two took over~

The grand hall of the castle was eerily silent as the new maid, you, scurried about, nervously clutching your cleaning supplies. The atmosphere was thick with tension, an almost tangible sense of dread that had settled in ever since you had started working here. You were well aware of the fate of those who failed to meet the exacting standards of the castle's rulers, the formidable queens Wanda and Natasha.

You had heard the whispers among the other servants, the hushed tones speaking of what happened to those who displeased the queens. The stories were enough to make you keep your head down, blending into the background, hoping to avoid their notice.

Today was particularly nerve-wracking. A terrible incident had occurred the night before, leaving a significant bloodstain on the opulent carpet in one of the grand parlors. The maids who had tried to clean it before you had all failed, disappearing shortly after. You knew this was a test of your skills, one that could either secure your place in the castle or seal your doom.

With trembling hands, you set to work. You had always been meticulous, and today you put every bit of your knowledge to use. You mixed a special solution, carefully applying it to the stain. As you worked, you whispered a silent prayer, willing the stain to vanish.

Hours passed, but eventually, the carpet was spotless. You allowed yourself a small sigh of relief, barely daring to believe your success. You knew better than to draw attention to yourself, but as you packed up your supplies, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope.

That hope was quickly dashed when you felt a presence behind you. Turning slowly, you found yourself face-to-face with Queen Wanda. Her piercing eyes seemed to bore into your soul, making you feel small and insignificant.

"What's your name?" she demanded, her voice smooth yet laced with an underlying threat.

"Y/N, Your Majesty," you replied, keeping your eyes downcast.

"You did this?" she asked, gesturing to the now pristine carpet.

"Yes, Your Majesty," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

She studied you for a moment, then nodded. "Impressive. Follow me."

Heart pounding, you followed her through the winding halls of the castle, eventually arriving at a grand chamber where Queen Natasha waited. Her eyes were just as intimidating as Wanda's, and you felt a shiver run down your spine under her scrutinizing gaze.

"This is the one?" Natasha asked, her voice cool and assessing.

"Yes," Wanda replied. "She has a talent."

Natasha approached you, her eyes never leaving yours. "We have a proposition for you," she said, her tone making it clear this was not a request. "You will become our personal maid. Fail us, and you know the consequences."

Your mind raced, but you knew there was only one answer. "Yes, Your Majesty," you agreed, bowing your head.

From that moment on, your life changed. You were no longer just another servant in the castle; you were under the direct scrutiny of the queens. They were demanding, their standards impossibly high, but you met each challenge with quiet determination.

As time passed, you learned more about them. Wanda, with her powerful presence and piercing gaze, and Natasha, with her calculating mind and cold demeanor. You discovered the complexities beneath their fierce exteriors, the reasons for their ruthlessness.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you found yourself alone with Wanda. She seemed different, almost... softer. "You surprise me, Y/N," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Most would have faltered by now."

"I'm just doing my best, Your Majesty," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"And you do it well," she acknowledged, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

In that moment, you realized that perhaps there was more to your role than you had initially thought. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a place here, earn their trust, and uncover the secrets that lay beneath the surface of their reign.

But for now, you would continue to serve, keeping your head down, your skills sharp, and your heart guarded against the enigmatic allure of the evil queens.

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

Your days as the personal maid to Queens Wanda and Natasha had settled into a demanding yet predictable rhythm. The queens were strict, their expectations high, and every task carried the weight of your continued survival. Yet, amidst the constant pressure, you had begun to notice subtle shifts, particularly in Wanda's behavior towards you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you were summoned to Wanda's private chambers. Your heart raced as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. You knocked softly on the heavy wooden door, waiting for her permission to enter.

"Come in," her voice called from inside, smooth and commanding.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind you. Wanda was seated by the large window, her silhouette framed by the moonlight streaming in. She looked up as you entered, her expression unreadable.

"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?" you asked, keeping your head slightly bowed in respect.

"Yes, Y/N," she replied, her tone softer than usual. "Come here."

You approached her cautiously, stopping a few feet away. She gestured for you to sit on the nearby cushioned chair, and you obeyed, sitting down with your hands clasped in your lap.

Wanda studied you for a moment, her eyes intense but not unkind. "You've been here for some time now," she began. "You've proven yourself capable, resourceful, and... loyal."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," you said quietly, unsure of where this conversation was leading.

She stood and moved closer to you, her presence both intimidating and strangely comforting. "Do you enjoy your work, Y/N?" she asked, her voice holding an unusual note of curiosity.

"I take pride in my work, Your Majesty," you replied carefully. "I strive to meet your expectations."

She reached out, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet her gaze. "You've exceeded them," she said softly, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You felt a blush creep up your neck at her touch, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you, Your Majesty," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's expression softened further, and she smiled—a rare and breathtaking sight. "You've done more than just meet expectations, Y/N," she said. "You've caught my attention."

You blinked in surprise, not daring to believe what you were hearing. "I... I'm honored, Your Majesty."

She chuckled softly, her eyes never leaving yours. "You've been so quiet, so diligent," she said. "But I see you, Y/N. I see your strength, your determination. And I find myself... intrigued."

Her words left you speechless, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. Wanda's hand moved from your chin to your cheek, her touch warm and tender. "Do not fear me," she whispered, leaning in closer. "I do not intend to harm you. Quite the opposite."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "What do you intend, Your Majesty?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

She smiled again, her lips tantalizingly close to yours. "I intend to show you my favor," she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. "To reward your loyalty and dedication."

Before you could respond, she closed the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you found yourself leaning into her, the world around you fading away.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. "You are special, Y/N," she said quietly. "Remember that."

You nodded, still dazed from the kiss. "I will, Your Majesty."

Wanda's smile widened, and she gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good. Now, go and rest. You have earned it."

You rose to your feet, feeling a strange mix of emotions. As you left her chambers and made your way back to your quarters, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Wanda's affection was both a blessing and a danger, and you knew you would have to navigate it carefully.

But for now, you allowed yourself a small moment of happiness, the memory of her kiss lingering on your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

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

The days following your intimate encounter with Queen Wanda were filled with a peculiar mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You carried on with your duties as usual, but there was an underlying tension in the air, a sense that something significant had shifted. Wanda's affectionate gaze lingered on you more often, and you couldn't help but wonder if others had noticed.

One afternoon, as you were meticulously arranging fresh flowers in the grand hall, you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Queen Natasha. Her eyes were as cold and calculating as ever, but there was a new intensity in her gaze that made your pulse quicken.

"Y/N," she said, her voice low and authoritative. "Come with me."

Your heart pounded as you followed her through the labyrinthine corridors to a secluded study. Once inside, she closed the door with a quiet finality that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing to a chair in front of a large, ornate desk.

You sat down, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. Natasha circled the desk and took a seat, her piercing eyes never leaving yours.

"I've noticed a change in Wanda," she began, her tone even but with an edge that made you nervous. "She seems... distracted. And I believe I know the reason why."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. "Your Majesty, I—"

Natasha held up a hand, silencing you. "Do not lie to me, Y/N. I am well aware of the kiss."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a wave of panic. "I—"

"Do not be afraid," she said, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing. "I am not here to punish you. In fact, I have a proposition."

You blinked in surprise, the tension in the room thickening. "A proposition, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," Natasha replied, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper as she leaned closer. "Instead of simply being our maid, would you like to be our plaything?"

Your eyes widened, and your mind raced. The suggestion was both thrilling and terrifying. "Your Majesty, I—"

She reached out, taking your chin in her hand, her grip firm yet not painful. Her eyes bored into yours, making it clear that this was not a casual offer. "Wanda seems to have taken a liking to you that just won't go away," she continued. "And I will do whatever necessary to make her happy."

Her words sent a shiver through you, a mix of fear and desire coursing through your veins. How could you say no to them when everything about them made you want them? You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Of course, Your Majesty," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "It would be the highest of honors to serve you and Queen Wanda however you need."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Natasha's lips. "Good," she purred, releasing your chin and leaning back in her chair. "You will continue with your duties as usual, but you will also be available to us whenever we desire. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," you said, nodding.

Natasha's smile widened, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Very well. You may go."

You rose from your chair, bowing your head respectfully. As you turned to leave, Natasha's voice stopped you.

"And Y/N," she added, her tone almost teasing, "do not disappoint us."

You nodded once more, then quickly left the room, your mind spinning. The proposition was both a dangerous game and an intoxicating possibility. As you resumed your duties, you couldn't help but wonder how this new dynamic would unfold, and what it would mean for your place in the castle.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the feeling of Natasha's intense gaze and Wanda's tender kiss. The queens had ensnared you in their web, and there was no turning back. You only hoped you could navigate their desires and demands without losing yourself in the process.

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

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of intense and secretive encounters with the queens. Each interaction left you more entranced by their power and allure, yet there was always a lingering sense of danger. Wanda's tender kisses and Natasha's possessive touches had become a regular part of your life, blurring the lines between duty and desire. But until now, your encounters with them had remained separate.

Today was different.

You were summoned by Queen Wanda, a call that usually filled you with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Her affection was addictive, and you found yourself craving her attention more with each passing day. However, when you stepped into their private chambers, the sight that greeted you made your heart skip a beat.

Both queens were there, their regal clothes splattered with blood. Panic surged through you as you rushed over to them, your hands trembling as you cupped their cheeks, frantically checking for any cuts or stab wounds. To your immense relief, you found none.

"You're not hurt," you breathed, your voice filled with concern and confusion.

Natasha's grip on your wrist was sudden and firm, pulling you towards her. Her kiss was rough, almost punishing, and you found yourself melting into it despite the intensity. Her other hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place as her lips claimed yours. The taste of her was intoxicating, and you barely registered Wanda moving behind you until you felt her soft kisses trailing along your shoulders and neck.

Wanda's hands slipped around your waist, holding you gently but securely. Her lips and tongue worked their magic on your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You were caught between them, their combined presence overwhelming and exhilarating.

"Don't worry, my sweet," Wanda whispered against your neck, her breath warm and soothing. "The blood isn't ours."

Natasha broke the kiss, her eyes dark and filled with desire. "We had some... business to attend to," she explained, her voice low and seductive. "And now we want to attend to you."

Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but all you could focus on was the sensation of their hands and lips on your body. Wanda's fingers traced patterns on your skin, while Natasha's grip tightened, a perfect balance of tenderness and dominance.

"You've been such a good girl," Wanda murmured, her voice like honey. "Always so eager to please us."

Natasha's lips curled into a predatory smile. "And now it's time for us to show you just how much we appreciate your devotion."

They guided you towards the large, luxurious bed, each movement coordinated and purposeful. As you lay down, Wanda climbed beside you, her hands never leaving your body. Natasha followed, her eyes never leaving yours as she leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate.

Wanda's hands roamed over your torso, her touch gentle yet electrifying. "Relax, my darling," she cooed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let us take care of you."

Natasha's hand slid under your shirt, her fingers tracing the outline of your bra. "You belong to us now," she whispered, her voice sending a thrill of excitement through you. "Body and soul."

Caught in their embrace, you felt a surge of emotions—fear, desire, love, and a deep-seated need to please them. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Your Majesties."

Their eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your submission. Together, they undressed you with a mix of urgency and reverence, their hands and mouths exploring every inch of your skin. The room was filled with the sound of your gasps and their murmured words of affection and desire.

Wanda's lips captured yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, her hand cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. "You're ours," she whispered against your lips.

Natasha's hands moved lower, eliciting a moan from you as she found your most sensitive spots. "Forever," she echoed, her voice a promise and a command.

In their arms, you felt a profound sense of belonging, a connection that went beyond mere physical attraction. They were your queens, and you were their treasured plaything, caught in a web of power, passion, and unspoken loyalty.

As the night wore on, you surrendered yourself completely to their touch, their love, and their power, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be—at the mercy of the queens who ruled your heart and soul.

@dorabledewdroop

#ley writes #ley writes requests #evil queens!Wandanat #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x fem!reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x reader #wandanat #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

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badly-drawn-doflamingo · 10 days ago

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Brook’s Past, Military and Everything Between [ An Essay kinda ]

Brook’s past is not a thing many people seem to mention or think about, at least in full, however it’s something that's plagued me. Not only as a Brook fan, but simply out of the odd implications it has towards the future, if any. Oda’s planted too many seeds for it to utterly be nothing; there’s so much odd and seemingly out of place comments and facts stated by Brook and others towards this missing history. However, knowing that the show is beginning to near it’s end, due to time, I am unsure of what exactly will be done.

I believe however, for folks' interest and so we can have everything in one place, that compiling everything found so far can be beneficial, so, I have.

Starting with what we know for sure, Brook is from the West Blue, born 90 years ago to a certain kingdom, the same kingdom he was a military convoy leader from. We know this due to a few factors, however it’s still open to debate if it *is* the same kingdom, however seeing as he was shown as a child to already know what fencing is, practicing moves with his bow, I am just going to say he probably was. In any case, other things worth noting, on the topic of childhood, is that Brook seems to have had money. At least, stability.

Compared to a lot of the other strawhats, Brook is shown dressing very nice. No tatters, no tears, shined shoes and a full violin and bow. He also, as already stated, seemed to be exposed to fencing enough to mirror the moves. If this comes from his kingdom, it means he was exposed to it at a young age. Knowing that he was a military convoy leader, this could be taken that perhaps there were military demonstrations, perhaps the kid saw castle guard or other displays; it’s really up in the air.

We know Brook, again as stated before, became a military convoy leader. Now, the definition of what exactly that means can differ.

Wikipedia states; A convoy is a group of vehicles, typically motor vehicles or ships, traveling together for mutual support and protection. Often, a convoy is organized with armed defensive support and can help maintain cohesion within a unit. It may also be used in a non-military sense, for example when driving through remote areas.

This could mean Brook’s job could’ve been accompanying ships for protection, being a knight for his King, mediating information and goods that come in and out of the kingdom. This would make sense on why his speed was needed, a 9.2 ft man being a great choice for a leader.

His weapon also would make sense for this kind of mission, perhaps secrecy being important or at least the ability to be discreet. His cane sword, a ‘Shikomizue’, is not unique however to just him in the show, one other man using one that has been confirmed so far, that being Fujitora. The pair also share a sea, the west, and both utilize iaijutsu (quick draw techniques.) Fujitora blinded himself with said sword because of something apparently so cruel and inhumane that he rather not see anguish. This may be related to Brook’s departure from his kingdom, which is addressed later in this essay. (Fig 3-5.)

Another thing that’s worth mentioning here is Brook’s attack patterns, being unique even for his kingdom apparently. Once again, during the Ryuma fight, Brook states, and I quote;

“Ryuma: “Now tell me, what part of that wretched excuse for a body would you like me to severe with my special ‘Arrow Notch Slash?’ Brook: You don’t know a thing about that move, so do not use it’s name. I use to serve in my kingdom’s raider squad. The quick draw attack that I was most skilled at was ‘Requiem Lebanderole’. My comrades-in-arms renamed it in regards to my fighting technique.”

(Fig. 1, Brook explains his raider squad and move names. A banderole mind you is a long flag for BATTLE crusades. )

This sets up a few interesting facts. 1. Brook was in a raider squad, a kingdom’s group of marauders, as well as if not the same job as convoy leader.

2. His techniques were unique to him, or at least specialized to a degree of having a nickname. 3. As expected, he seems to have been close to these men he commanded, adding another layer over Brook loosing the Rumbars. Being in both a raider squad and being a convoy leader at one point, if not the same point, implies either Brook was simply versatile, acting in both in separate years or periods. Or, the most likely, that he was higher ranking than expected, making him a CO, or commanding officer. (Lieutenant Colonel is another equal rank for scale, making Brook just below a Major.) This makes him quite the important figure, especially for a kingdom that seems to value its military so much, so much so that a child of Brook’s age would already know about their style of fencing, as expressed already. Brook’s devil fruit is worth mentioning here, the revive-revive fruit not likely to be found by a crew like the Rumbars. It is spoken about as if he has always had it amongst the crew, being a fact of life. However, when did he get that fruit and why? I propose where it would be useful; in combat. If your military convoy leader, your best swordsman could be shot and come right back to protect the king, would he not be utterly invaluable? You would never let him leave… But he DID leave. It’s not said why, however we have some extra tidbits of information that may tell us why, and that ALSO may tell us the answer to what kingdom he means.

( Fig. 2. Brook states his leaving of the military for unknown reasoning, the word certain being used in an odd way, establishing his bounty.) This bounty mind you all is in fact, using inflation method, 297,000,000 berries. That is a MASSIVE bounty for just a pirate. Perhaps a certain blond stole a treasure a kingdom could not replace; their convoy leader. Lets rewind for a moment and cover something that may be seen as off topic however I will come right back to the subject at hand; Calico Yorki. Yorki is an odd bird, pirate wise. He makes his crew read his bounties and information, is never shown to play an instrument/sing but makes his crew preform/they all do, and makes Brook make him dinner. (Steak, and Brook continues to be able to make it as confirmed by an SBS.) What is oddest yet, other than his large crew and shirtless habits, is his nature. A man that set to sea to play music for “orphans and crying children” as stated by himself; a crew made for “any men who love music.” Now, I could be reading into this too hard, however from his speech patterns, to this apparent need for a large family, it seems that singing to orphans may be a very personal goal. An orphan turned pirate perhaps, with lofty dreams and a heart of gold, it reads to me that Yorki may have been just that. Knowing this, orphan or not, we now can compare these facts to Brook’s life up until their meeting. A child who probably grew up being taught to fight, being around access to education, expenses and the kingdom’s training. Why would a man like Brook ever join a man like Yorki, and if it’s only music, would that not make Brook a deserter? I do not think that is the case. I will now bring forward some interesting evidence regarding Brook’s kingdom and WHY he would leave. Germa 66. During Zou to Whole Cake, a few mentions of Germa are made with Brook around, garnering interesting reactions indeed.

( Fig. 3. Brook listens but chooses not to add anything utter than silence, his music pausing as well.) This silence could be take as simple ignorance, however Brook later admits he knows of the kingdom, in fact, he knows a lot. A lot more than anyone else did, Reiju admitting interest in his knowledge and once again, Brook brushes it off.

(Fig 4, 5, Brook speaks about Germa 66.) He seems to underplay or simply not elaborate a LOT on his kingdom, as if something happened. Perhaps joining Yorki was not out of simple cowardice or need to be free, (which again if he did would both reflect poorly upon his entire character and not be in character for him what so ever,) but in fact, out of necessity. It could have been Germa 66, it could have been some other grouping, however I believe this will come to be something important. The kingdom possibilities are interesting as well, and I will list the following LIKELY possibilities. (Other options are known to not be military, like Ohara, or literally places like Thriller Bark itself.) - Toroa - God Valley - Illsia Kingdom - Soja Kingdom The most likely candidates, because again, it is labeled as certain kingdom (Fig 2.) is Toroa or Soja, however I will personally lean into Toroa. This is because of a man by the named of Byron.

(Fig 6. Byron and his information.) His nose and face shape vaguely resemble Brook, however honestly that is a stretch. What is NOT however is his familiar attire, family line and the placement of his kingdom. This could easily be Brook’s home, however again, this is just speculation. Brook very well could belong to God’s Valley, or the same kingdom as Issoh, fleeing because of something he did not agree with or literally could not stand any longer. But, that falls under possibility, not fact. This concludes the facts section, now comes the final question; What does it mean for the story? And, honestly, that can be debated. What Oda has done is plant odd seeds of information about the man, similar to Sanji and his ties to Vinsmoke, that have not been addressed nor talked about in full, or so I’ve found sufficiently. These seeds MAY bloom into what I hope will be a tie into some huge reveal, perhaps aid from a past member of his convoy or kingdom, or perhaps this will only spark conflict. Perhaps it will be minute, Brook being able to aid due to his knowledge, the man already in Thriller Bark showing his prowess by being able to command the strawhats into defeating zombies via salt and tactic. In any case, we can only hope these things mean anything, tied into some huge story that could explain why a man like him would quit for a redneck like Yorki, other than perhaps love, and what kingdom would let a man like him go willingly.

#essay writing #brook one piece #Brook #thriller bark #One piece #one piece writing #one piece thoughts #one piece discussion #scene analysis #character analysis

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lunajay33 · 4 months ago

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It’s You❤️‍🔥 Part.2

Summary: You went along with Bella to Italy to save Edward, but when you get there things go unexpectedly and you become mate to the strongest Volturi guard

Pairing: Felix x human female reader

Warning: Mention of blood, bit of angst

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since I’ve been living in the Volturi castle in Italy, for the first few days I stayed in my room that I shared with Felix, the bed was mainly mine since he doesn’t sleep but sometimes I craved for his touch at night to help calm me to sleep

It was late at night and I was ready for bed, Heidi was another vampire I grew close to, she was easy to talk too and made me feel at home, she even went out shopping and bought me a much of new clothes, including the silk deep red night dress I was wearing right now as I was cuddled alone in the bed I so desperately want Felix in but alas he had guard duty

Finishing my book I laid it aside when the doors open revealing the one vampire I was missing, I could feel my heart quicken and my smile brighten as he walked towards me

“You’re back! I missed you” I said jumping in his lap as he sat on the bed, his strong arms quick to tighten around my waist

“Oh how I missed you too amore, what a sexy dress and my favorite color too, such a tempterous” he said as his eyes roamed my body his hands squeezing my hips

“Heidi picked it out, I was hoping you’d like it” I said placing my hands on his hips

“Oh amore I don’t like it I adore it, I adore you” he said nuzzling his nose into my neck, he had admitted that he loved doing this because I was warm and he craved my scent

“I was wondering….i mean only if you want to of course….would you maybe stay with me in the bed tonight? I know you don’t sleep but I want to feel you next to me while I sleep” he raised his head and smiled gently

“I’d be honoured” in a flash he changed out of his daily work clothes into a pair of grey sweatpants and a slim fitted black long sleeve top, his form showing beautifully in this attire compared to the jacket he usually had on, only making me crave him more

Climbing into bed next to me I curled into his side flaring my legs over his lap as my head rested on his arm, his other hand come to rest on my hip, he was hard and cold but god did it feel right

“Sleep my little one, you need your rest”

“You’ll stay right?”

“All night, I’ll be here when you wake” and slowly I drifted off into the best sleep I’ve had since being here

I woke up finally feeling relaxed looking up to see Felix was still holding me with a book in his other hand

“Good morning handsome!” I smiled as I sat up rubbing my eyes

“Morning amore, sleep well? You were talking in your sleep a lot” he smirked

“Oh no what did I say?” Nervously fiddling with my fingers not remembering anything I might have dreamed about

“Nothing crazy just mumbling my name a lot, were you dreaming of my little one?” He asked as he grazed his hand over my exposed thigh

“Umm I don’t remember….oh god this is so embarrassing” I groaned trying to look anywhere but his piercing ruby eyes

“Don’t be I quite enjoyed it, even though I love being with you darling I have to get to the throne room for the day” he said as he stood up and walked over to our shared wardrobe and I watched as he stripped out of his clothes leaving him in a pair of black boxers, his back was muscular and strong, his legs like tree trunks and when he turned his abs had me weak

“Like what you see darling?” He laughed as he pulled on his work clothes

“Was your body sculpted by the gods wow” my mouth agape from awe

He finished getting ready then was kneeling infront of me at the side of the bed

“I’ll see you this evening, I have something special planned, wear something nice and meet me in the gardens amore” he smiled placing a gentle kiss to my hair line before he was gone

Times like this made me feel incredibly self conscious, he was beautiful not a single flaw and I was just a human, my hair had bust offs, my skin wasn’t spot less like marble as his was, my body wasn’t extremely toned like his, what did he see in me?

Grudgingly I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on a pair of casual leggings and hoodie for now, putting my hair into a ponytail and leaving the room in hopes to find Heidi

Thankfully it wasn’t hard finding her in the library as she was sat on a leather couch flipping through a fashion magazine, she quickly looked my way as I head towards her, plopping myself down on the couch beside her

“Y/n! Is everything okay you’re looking a bit down hun” she said as she placed her magazine to the side giving me her full attention

“I’ve just been insecure I guess, I may or may not have seen Felix’s body this morning and he’s just so perfect I mean how does he not have girls hanging off of him and he gets saddled with me, I know we’re mates but I feel like he’ll get bored of me and realize he can have so much better” I said as my face flushed and I could feel the tears well in my eyes

“Oh hun don’t think like that, trust me he adores you, you should hear the way he fawns over when he’s talking with Demetri, he thinks the world of you, he worships the ground you walk on just give it time everything will itself out”

“Thanks Heidi I appreciate it, hey Felix said he had something special planned tonight and said I had to dress nice, and seeing as you’re an expert in everything fashion wanna help me get ready” I asked hoping to cheer the mood and distract myself

“Omg I’ve been waiting for this day! Let’s go!”

Heidi did one last curl in my hair and we were finally done, she had me all dolled up like I was going to a ball

“How do you like it?!” She asked looking at me through the mirror

“I love it thank you so much! I feel like a princess” my dress was a deep grey covered in sparkles stopping at my mid thigh, a black lace cover over my shoulders, my makeup subtle but classy with sparkles on my eyes

“Because you are a princess, now it’s about time Felix will be getting off now go make his jaw drop” she smiled pushing me towards the door

I made my way through the long winding hallways, pushing open the back door finally feeling the fresh night air, the garden glowing with the little decorations the Volturi members each added, suddenly a gush of wind whipped by me, I smiled turning around hoping to see Felix but was faced with someone I wasn’t formally acquainted with, I’ve seen him around sometimes but he was usually lurking in the shadows giving me an unsettled feeling thankfully I was always with Felix but now that I’m alone I felt fear, complete fear as his eyes roamed every inch of me

“Why don’t you look exquisite, and here all alone what a treat” his smirk widening from ear to ear

“Felix is gonna be here any minute you better leave” I said anxiously as I stepped back

“Well I better hurry then” in an instant he was on me pushing my hard to the ground knocking the wind out of me, I tried to push him away but it was no use and I could feel my life flash before my eyes, this isn’t how I wanted to go I didn’t wanna go at all I only just found my soulmate, life was just starting and the only thing I could think of to hopefully save me was scream

“FELIX HELP ME” the scream i let out was desperate and blood curdling but i was too late as pain seared through my shoulder, his death dug deep into my flesh, i could feel my blood run down my back

Almost just as quickly as he latched on he was ripped away, by who I don’t know because the venomous pain coursing through my shoulder was distracting, excruciating, soon Felix was leaning over me panic written all over his face, Demetri on my other side

“FELIX IT BURNS MAKE IT STOP” I screamed again

“You can do it Felix, she’s not ready yet” Felix looked conflicted before he huffed a breathe he didn’t have and sunk his teeth into the previous wound sucking out the venom as soon as that scorching pain subsided I became weak as Felix clung to me

“Felix she’s clean, you’re taking too much” with a snap he was off me, my blood dripping down his face, scared, worried

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you mio amore, I should have been here” he said as he laid my head on his lap

“You saved me Felix, this wasn’t your fault…….I…I love you” I said weakly before I faded into unconsciousness

Waking up the light beaming through the window bothering my eyes, quickly shielding them as the bed dipped beside me

“Thank god you’re awake, I was so worried Angel” I turned seeing Felix, his skin paler than usual, eyes as black as coal which ive never seen before

I raised my hands tracing my fingers over his cool cheek

“Are you okay? You look sick if that’s possible”

“You’ve been out for 2 days I couldn’t leave your side, I haven’t been feeding I just needed to be with you” he smiled pushing my hair back

“I’m okay, a little sore but I’m fine because of you, you still need to take care of yourself too tho my love” he nuzzled into my hand which warmed by heart

“I wish the night went differently I had so much planned for us” he said as he climbed into the bed next to me so I could cuddle into him, everything felt right again

“I had a whole picnic for us, well you mostly, the moon was gonna be illuminating us and I know you love that, then I was gonna present you with a gift I have had with me since I found out about mates millennia ago” my heart pumped with excitement I sat up to look at him

“You have a gift for me!”

“Yes amore here I’ve held onto it long enough, now it’s with the one I got it for” he said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a long thin box

He opened it to reveal a gorgeous bracelet, one you’d never be able to find even in the last 100 years, a unique gold chain with added gold tiny flowers along the chain and at the center a ruby crystal surrounded by more flowers

“Felix it’s beautiful, I love it! Would you help me putting it on?” I asked as I gave him my wrist which he was quick to place the bracelet around

“It’s beautiful on you amore, it was made for you” he smiled as he placed a kiss to my hand like a gentleman

“I love you Felix”

“I love you more than you could ever know little one”

Taglist: @rosaliedepp @parabatai-winchester

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slytherinboysvip · 13 days ago

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hiiii, i love ur writing so much, u capture the slytherin boys perfectly chefs kiss 😘 and i was wondering if u could do 69 or ab/thigh riding with any of the boys?? heehee 🤭 if ur not comfortable with that that’s totally ok, js wanted to ask and see

thanks!!

Hide and seek- T.R

(tw: thigh riding, 69, ab riding, overstim, praise, slight degradation, prey+predator mindset)

first of all thank u smmm, annnd okay sooo how about both.. hehe >:)

you see, tom was a man who was into many things. some, usual, and some well.. deranged?

he wasn’t the type to immediately get into sexual relations upon getting together, but believe me once he’s there, there’s no going back. he watched over you constantly as if you were his prey, ready to be taken over by him, your main predator.

and when i say predator i mean it, once hes got you you’re his and there’s no getting out, he will literally eat you out the second he’s got you. he loves playing this special little game, one where you run, hide, and he seeks. now it seems easy, the castle is huge there’s no way he could catch you.

not to mention the fact that you two only play at night- prefect privileges.

you’re running, heart pounding against your chest at the thought that any given moment tom would snatch you up and you’d lose your game, though that’s what you really wanted. the adrenaline starts kicking in when you hear echoed footsteps from another hall, attempting to sprint away as quietly as possible failing miserably; hearing the footsteps getting louder and closer.

no thinking necessary you ran out of the castle and it was pitch black. peeking behind as you were running you caught a glimpse of tom chasing after you- this time you did think but only for a split second before running towards the forbidden forest not looking behind at all and rushing throughout different bushes and passing creatures.

finally stopping for a second to take a rest and catch your breath you slid down a tree and sat breathing heavily. you closed your eyes for a second and as you were getting up you heard a twig break. looking behind you there stood tom smirking. you had two options in this part of the game, surrender and have some mercy, or the fun option, run more and whatever happens.. happens.

obviously choosing the fun option you immediately ran for your life in the opposite direction of him and swerved around trees trying to offset him from your trail, to no avail you heard twigs breaking behind you after you’ve thought you’ve gotten away.

stopping for a moment you realized there were no more breaking twigs, or any noise at all for that matter. you looked around worried, there was not even the sound of a cricket. all you could hear was your breathing, until you felt warm sporadic breathing over your left shoulder. abruptly turning around you were stopped by strong arms. “caught you dove”

even though you knew it was tom, even though you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, your heart was practically beating through your chest. you could never imagine what he was going to do to you whenever you lost this specific game, even if you’ve never actually won.

“you know, running into the forest like that.. not very smart of you. i think someone might need a bit of a punishment”. his hand met your throat tightly wrapping around it, whispering a charm that brought you back to his dorm. “how the fuck” you breathed out suddenly dizzy. “watch your tone” he slapped your ass harshly pushing you on the bed.

“strip for me doll”, his voice was deep and seductive his words making you hypnotized doing exactly what you were told. removing your skirt slowly looking up at him with your fuck me eyes, followed by removing your shirt giving him a smile. “i have no problem ripping that shit off hurry up.” no hesitation you threw your underwear and bra across his room revealing yourself completely.

“mm you get hotter and sluttier everyday” he breathed out walking towards you unbuttoning his shirt. though your boyfriend didn’t look it, he was hiding a raging six pack underneath that white button down. absolutely toned to perfection you stared in awe, as you did everytime he took his shirt off. “can i touch” you looked up at him reaching for his stomach.

he smirked slapping your hand down “actually, you’re going to do something for me.” he laid on the bed and looked over at you, “you’re going to ride my abs, just like the slut you are doll” his smirk only growing wider at your visual embarrassment. “what’s wrong? i thought you loved them..” he chuckled mockingly in amusement.

your face was an indescribable color of crimson and you couldn’t even look him in the eyes as you straddled yourself over his stomach and brought yourself down onto his abs. “spit” he nodded towards your pussy not even looking back up at you, doing as you were told you spit down onto his abs lifting yourself slightly so it could roll down underneath you, lowering yourself back down.

his hands met your hips harshly and began grinding you back and forth onto his abs, to your surprise your clit was being perfectly stimulated dragging over his abs your wetness now mixing with the previous spit as low moans escape your mouth. “i knew you’d like this shit whore” he slapped your right breast causing a loud moan to leave your mouth “i need you tom” you cried out desperately for his dick.

“well dick is only for good girls who surrender for me, someone didn’t surrender.” he pushed you off of his stomach and shoved you on his thigh, “get yourself off for me, and maybe, just maybe i’ll let you have dick” his eyes darkened waiting for your next move, wanting any chance to fuck him you began moving your hips chasing your high just looking at him.

you desperately moved yourself back and forth leaving a slick spot of wetness on his school pants that he’d yet to remove. your eyes trailed up and down his body- scanning his abs admiring how shiny they look covered in your arousal. balancing yourself onto him your hand landed onto his raging boner. it felt like a complete fucking rock. and you absolutely needed it. just the thought of it alone made your immediately reach your high. moaning for him as he watched you carefully.

he reached his fingers down to your pussy sliding them under and pushing them inside the pleasure making you moan even more before he abruptly removed them taking them into his mouth “so delicious dove” he smirked. “i think overstimulation is the perfect punishment for your forbidden forest incident.” he pushed you off of him and onto the bed, getting off the bed and dragging your legs to the end. he bent down and his head dived into your pussy.

he shook his head back and fourth licking and twirling his tongue all over your clit you could feel another high coming and you didn’t want him to stop no matter how much the pleasure hurt. just when you were about to cum he shoved three fingers inside of you pumping them in and out at a harsh speed. you were unable to control your own reactions drool ready to spill from your mouth as you moaned like there was no tomorrow.

you tried to keep yourself from cumming, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of it. he sucked and twirled his tongue around your clit licking up and down all while fingering you expertly. he knew every spot that made you feel pleasure and had no problem finding new ones. everything finally took over and you couldn’t hold back.

even when you screamed “i’m cumming oh fuckkk”- he didn’t stop. tom curled his fingers up and began curling and un curling them all while pumping in and out of you, his long slender fingers hitting your g-spot perfectly. he suddenly stopped. removing all fingers and his face from your pussy. without any words he got back on the bed and smirked. “ever done six nine before, love” he winked dragging your ass to his face and immediately going back to eating your pussy.

through your moans and undeniable pleasure you tried your best to remove his throbbing boner from his pants, most of it springing out of his boxers you took what you could in your mouth and began bobbing your head. “fuckk” he took a break from your pussy leaning back and groaning lowly. you swirled your tongue around his tip multiple times before taking all of it and leaving it there for a second.

you were about to keep going when his mouth began to suck harshly on your swollen clit. your moan barley escaping over his dick in your mouth the vibration itself gave him pleasure, he continued abusing your clit, slapping your ass over and over before you bobbed your head more. you were a moaning mess gobbing on tom’s cock, spit was all over yours and tom’s body.

managing to get one arm to his dick you pumped the base of his shaft and sucked only the tip, attempting to give him a taste of his own medicine. you knew he wouldn’t last long if you did this. just then he began thrusting himself up into your throat fucking your face all while eating you out. at this point it wasn’t only a game of pleasure and overstimulation, but it was a game of you trying to breathe while he attempts to catch his own high.

his thrusts were harsh and your throat would surely be bruised by tomorrow but oh my god did it make you want to cum. and so you did, you came hard, loud, and well, you squirted all over his face. the noise that left your mouth was almost demonic-yet heavenly to him as the pleasure truly became too much. and with that you felt tom’s cum shooting down your throat making you gag at the harsh impact of his thick cum.

“good fucking girl.. fuck y/n” he sighed heavily pulling you off of him and bringing you on top of him, “i love this game” you sighed catching your breath.

this was so fun to write tbh not having to come up with my own ideas is great LMAO

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redflagshipwriter · 10 months ago

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Hot Ghouls in your Area ch 4 progress

(read other sections of this and more stories here)

Danny floated miserably through the stacks, pulling out books that looked remotely plausible. Maybe he needed help. Jazz would help him without laughing at him, right?

Sam and Tucker absolutely would not. They would think it was hilarious that he had so little game that the universe assigned him a boyfriend via Jeremy Waters.

‘As if I could pull a guy who looks like that,’ Danny thought wryly, and then felt a little bad about himself in comparison. Jason was, uhhhh, physically blessed. He was tall and well proportioned and his hands- Danny fought down a shiver and resisted the urge to steal another look. Jason was out of sight anyway.

Well. He still hadn't seen Jason's face. Maybe he was ugly! You never know. Or maybe under the helmet it was totally smooth, no face. That would be neat. Danny paused mid motion to imagine that.

Haha. Sick, man.

That concept cheered him up a little as he grimly opened the first book and started skimming for likely words like marriage, spouse, and concubine.

He didn’t bother reading anything in detail. He stuck a post it note on each page with a relevant term and then put the book in a pile to take back to his dorm. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day.

Ah, shit. Danny paused. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day. He bit his lip and looked off in the direction where Jason had disappeared to do his own research.

He truly didn’t have time to devote to this right now. He was not willing to drop his school life in order to solve a sudden problem. Jason was just going to have to cope with whatever timeline Danny could manage without setting his life on fire.

On the other hand, Jason was a human guy who probably had a life of his own at the biker bar/fight club. Whatever the hell required that kind of outfit probably kept him busy! So Danny couldn’t like, just leave him in the castle to chill.

“Not to mention the fact that he shouldn’t be able to live here very long anyways,” Danny muttered to himself.

That was troubling him. Frankly, Jason should have been intolerably uncomfortable in the ghost zone for this long without specialized protective equipment. It wasn’t meant for humans.

‘What did Jeremy do to this guy?’

Yikes. Did this mean… Did this mean Danny should have given that little cult thing more credit? But Jeremy was just such a doofus. He grimaced. Embarrassing. Why were his enemies so embarrassing? This shit didn’t happen to, like, Wonder Woman.

Danny buried himself back in the books to avoid the growing suspicion that Jason might have been uhhhh magically altered to make him an appropriate concubine to a dead king. That thought sucked! He didn’t like it. He really didn’t like the idea of bringing it up with Jason.

When he had what he thought was a good first round of research, Danny shelved the books he’d gotten out and went to find where his …

He whole-body flinched at the point where he needed to plug an appropriate noun into that sentence.

“Jason?” Danny called, juggling books into a stack. “I think we should probably get you back to the re- the human world. Before something inexorable happens.”

A pause.

“I don’t think you know what that word means,” Jason said. A book shut. Danny headed towards the sound, phasing through shelves effortlessly. A spark of curiosity lit up at Jason’s voice. He sounded relaxed, even through the helmet’s filter.

‘I want to hear his real voice. Bet it’s nice.’

Wait. What? Danny shook the thought away, discomforted. He plastered a wide grin on his face. “I don’t know any words,” he lied breezily. “I’m just ad libbing. Anyway!” He flopped dramatically down onto the big chair next to Jason’s, making sure to be extra physical to get a satisfying whumpf. “We really should go! I can get you to the human world, but, uh, I can’t promise to put you back where you came from.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I think this is going to be a more than one day affair.”

Jason was watching him. There was nothing visible through his helmet, but Danny got the sense that he was tense, waiting for a threat.

Which, what? Why would Jason feel threatened by-

Oh. Danny felt a knot in his stomach. Right. That made a lot of sense. He felt kinda sick.

He didn’t let the feeling show through and barreled on speaking. “I don’t exactly have an easy way for you to contact me, but we probably need to stay in touch to fix this. Do you have any ideas?”

The lie felt kind of gross. But he could hardly tell the guy; “I’m an engineering student in Gotham, you can just call my cell or come to the dorms.”

Jason seemed to relax at the cessation of control. “If you can stick around, yeah. I’ll get you a burner phone, exchange numbers. You’re not going to…” He trailed off. Danny felt a frown somehow. “You won’t have any signal here, actually. That won’t work.”

“I can make it work,” Danny assured him, hands up. “I mean, I can’t make it work here, or I would have offered to help with your tech. But I can pop in and out of the human world and check my messages.”

“That’ll work.” Jason’s helmet turned ever so slightly. “About the books…”

“You found something good?” Danny asked, impressed. “Yeah, awesome. Just be really careful with them, the librarian is a scary guy.”

Jason’s hand flexed over the closed book on his thigh. “I can take- how many can I take out?”

Danny scoffed. “I’m not your dad,” he said. “Whatever you can carry, man. You ready to go or do you need a minute?” He flipped back to his feet with a grunt.

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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redtsundere-writes · 3 months ago

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Part 14: The Perfect Plan

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 6123 words.

A/N: Sorry for posting late. The power went out last night mid translation lmao. Third world country typa shit

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

The gloom of the castle was welcoming. Infusing themselves with the darkness. Walking in a straight line on the crimson carpets in the company of a small candle was Uraume's favorite activity. They had from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m. to relax, watch around without the pressure of having the king on their shoulders while being consumed by their own thoughts. They didn't have to think or worry until the sun peeked over the mountains. It was just Uraume marching like a soldier throughout the castle alongside the army of curses that guarded the perimeter like hawks.

Loud, determined footsteps caught their attention, igniting battle mode in their mind. A stowaway had infiltrated the castle without the curses noticing? Uraume quickly ran to find the source of the noise. A wild Yorozu who was out of her room after curfew. She had broken one of the most important rules of the castle. “What the fuck is she doing?” they thought, annoyed.

Uraume was fed up with both sisters. They hated you for being so gentle and fragile to everyone when the king needed someone strong on his side, but it didn't compare to the abhorrence they felt for Yorozu. Uraume had never been so happy to lose a servant before. In the few weeks she was under his charge, she destroyed a set of dishes, stained a collection of tablecloths and turned the entire service staff against her. They tried everything to correct her insolent attitude, but nothing seemed to work. When the king dictated that Yorozu would be his apprentice, they didn't know whether to cry with happiness at having a new sorceress in the castle or worry about the king’s choices.

“You know I never go against your will, my king,” Uraume said to the king as he reviewed documents on his desk. “But Yorozu is undisciplined, vulgar and dirty, as I mentioned in my reports. Of all the curses that would do anything to be your apprentice, you chose her? This time I don’t understand your decision,” they asked, confused by his actions.

“I'm not doing it for me,” Sukuna confessed before sealing a receipt abruptly, a small maneuver to make Uraume understand that they were going too far with their voice tone. “I'm doing it for her.”

“You're fucking lucky you're that one's sister,” Uraume thought as Yorozu walked towards them without fear the consequences. It was as if she was casually reuniting with an old friend in the park, she greeted them from afar waving her hand from side to side with a big smile printed on her face.

“Good evening, Uraume,” Yorozu greeted enthusiastically.

“You should be in your room. It's already past 10 o'clock,” Uraume reminded her.

“I'm just going to look for my sister in the king's room,” the brunette explained.

“A year of watching me like a hawk, and you know nothing about me?” For some reason, that comment you had made bothered them quite a bit. You couldn't be so complex to tell them something like that. You were just a simple fragile human like every other lady they ever met. There was nothing special about you or your sister. You were two open books with clear intentions. There was nothing you could hide in front of their nose. “That's impossible. She would never break such a simple rule.” Uraume set the candle down on the nearest table to remove their hands from the black cloak that wrapped around their body whenever night came.

“I don't think you understand what happens to humans who go outside curfew,” Uraume warned her before placing his palm in front of her.

“Wow, and I thought you liked me,” Yorozu scoffed with a confident smile, quickly understanding that a fight would start soon.

“Not a bit,” Uraume admitted.

They launched a flurry of sharp stalactites towards Yorozu. Her grinning opponent didn't hesitate to create her beetle armor. The emerald green exoskeleton glowed in golden hues against the torches illuminating the hallway. The stalactites hit Yorozu's armored body, so it only caused her to recoil from the impact. Uraume created two stalactites that served as swords for melee and took advantage of the recoil to run towards her. Quickly, they looked for an open area to fit his improvised weapon. Uraume snapped them in the neck area, but the ice shattered when it came in contact with the hard armor. Yorozu didn’t miss the open opportunity to kick her opponent in the abdomen, sending them flying to the other side of the hallway.

“Is that all you've got?” Yorozu asked them before creating a sword with her technique to hit him back.

Uraume generated a piece of dry ice thick enough for the sword to get stuck in it. Yorozu tried to pull it out, but his strength was not enough. Uraume spun the ice on its axis so that Yorozu let go and broke the piece of ice on her head. Yorozu recoiled from the massive blow she received. She could barely breathe under the mask from the tremendous knockout. Everything was spinning and she thought she was about to pass out. “Sister...” she prayed that you would appear at that instant to help her. Yorozu had consumed almost all her energy creating the armor and the heavy sword, but she couldn't give up. Not yet.

“Is that all you've got?” Uraume asked as they watched her with disdain as she gasped for her life against the wall.

Yorozu screamed in rage as she created a knife and ran towards Uraume. If she was going to die that night, at least she would die fighting on her feet. They just looked at her with disappointment before blowing ice at her. Freezing her entire body instantly, leaving her head out so she could breathe. Yorozu screamed in desperation as she flailed like a worm in salt in order to escape, but all her attempts were in vain. Uraume reached over to slap her. The hollow sound echoed down the hallway, drawing the attention of some cursing.

“Shut up, you'll wake the king,” they scolded her.

“You can't do this to me, I'm the king's apprentice,” Yorozu threw a tantrum. Uraume slapped her again, now on the other cheek.

“I told you to shut up,” Uraume repeated with a macabre smile. They were having fun watching the little sorceress agonize.

“You're only doing this because you're jealous, aren't you!?” Yorozu tried to trigger them.

“Jealous of whom?” Uraume asked, offended. “I would never be jealous of a filthy rat like you.”

Uraume held her tightly by the jaw, enough to mark their slender fingers against her pale skin from the extreme cold. Yorozu could do nothing against the experienced sorcerer. It was a pity that a fool had such extraordinary power. Uraume's smile widened as they watched their opponent shiver and complain from the cold. It was satisfying to see someone finally teach her a lesson.

“Consider yourself lucky if you make it to the morning,” Uraume said, turning their back on Yorozu to walk away down the hallway.

The sorceress screamed, pleaded and squirmed as she watched Uraume take the candle and continue the vigilance, completely ignoring her cry for mercy. “Don't worry, my sister will come back for me once she doesn't find me in her room.” Yorozu held up hope as she shivered. She was beginning to lose feeling in her fingers and gradually her touch as well. Her hair clung to the ice trying to avoid resting her chin against the ice.

The sun peeked through the curtains, the fireplace had gone out and the crows were merrily singing a somber song. You awoke in the king's warm arms, just as they had fallen asleep. You wiped the drool that was subtly escaping from your mouth as you half-opened your eyes to see the golden clock on the nightstand. It wasn't long before the king would be awakened for breakfast, which meant you were late getting ready. You slipped out of Sukuna's arms, waking him slightly.

“Good morning,” you whispered with a tired smile.

“Morning your ass,” he grumbled before rolling over and covering his face with the blanket. “He can be really childish,” you thought with a chuckle.

You jumped off the giant bed to leave the room. As you opened the door, you ran into a shocked Uraume, who was about to knock on the door. They watched you with wide eyes and their mouth sweeping the floor. “Yorozu wasn't lying!” They thought as they realized that you had indeed spent the night in the king's room. Uraume could not believe that his king had lost his patience and decided to conceive his heir so soon.

“Good morning, Uraume,” you greeted. “Why is he looking at me like that?” you asked in confusion. You smiled feigning innocence before passing by to run back to your room.

Uraume just followed you with their sight, still perplexed by the situation. “Yeah I don't know you” they thought about what you had told him earlier as you watched yourself run down the hallway with your pink nightgown fluttering with each step.

You walked down the hallways until you ran into a block of ice in the middle of the hallway. “Uraume punishing someone?” you thought as you got closer so you could see which servant it was. Your eyes widened at the sight of that brown hair you already knew so well, your sister was trapped in the ice. You called her name several times as your legs moved quickly towards her, but there was no response. Her eyes were closed, she was pale and her lips were blue. You patted her face a couple of times to wake her up, again, there was no response.

“No, no, no...”. You repeated desperately while tears threatened to escape from your eyes at the sight of the situation she was in.

You were in charge of protecting her and making her happy. You neglected her for one night and she ended up being frozen. Who knows how long she had been stranded there. You touched her neck to find her pulse, she was weak, but still alive. You looked around for some tool that could help you get your sister out of her whereabouts, but you first came across a sword that was stuck in a half-thawed block of ice. You tried to pull it out, but it was stuck. You grabbed the sword by the handle and pulled it towards you with all your might, but the weapon would not budge. You kept pulling until your eyes were fixed on the area that was connected against the ice. You stopped pulling to try to do the opposite. You slammed the sword against the point and the block of ice split in two, allowing you to grab the frozen weapon.

With a breath of relief, you carried the heavy one to the block of ice where your sister was and whipped the sword against the ice. Between groans and sweat from the effort, you smashed the chunk of ice that enveloped your sister to her slow death. Cut after cut, you removed pieces of ice, taking care not to hurt her by accident.

To your random luck, a large albino dragon with yellow eyes struck the ice with its large forehead. It destroyed the remaining ice with one strong impact, enough to get your sister out of there. Without letting the shock consume you, you hurried to get Yorozu out of the ice to take her to the nearest bathroom to bathe her in hot water.

“Put her on the muzzle,” Kenjaku said behind you. Quickly, you picked up that he was the one controlling the beast. “Since when has he been standing there?” The dragon opened its maw for you to lay your sister on its blue tongue. It didn't seem like a good idea to you. “Trust me, she'll be fine,” he earnestly indicated to you in the face of the emergency.

Not having much choice, you placed your sister on his tongue. The white-furred dragon closed its almost human snout carefully so as not to close it completely to make its way to the nearest room. Snaking with the help of its human arms at great speed between the hallways. Kenjaku reached out to take your hand.

“Come on, let's go treat her,” he said before running off at an average speed, following the dragon as he pulled you along with him. You just followed his orders.

Sukuna laughed out loud as soon as Uraume reported the consequences Yorozu had suffered for going out after curfew. It was obvious that would happen. She was so stubborn that she knew perfectly well that at some point she would break some of the castle rules, she didn't think she would be foolish enough to break curfew. Sukuna kept laughing as Uraume's confusion grew. She covered her mouth to finally get her laughter under control. Everything was going according to plan.

“Usually I can usually figure out what his plans are quickly, but not lately. I can tell Yorozu annoys you, just kill her like any other inept servant,” Uraume told him as he watched the king change into his elegant clothes.

“You know why I can't kill her,” he explained as he wrapped the ribbons around his waist around his kimono.

“Can't you really kill her because she is her sister?” Uraume questioned him, it seemed absurd that that was the reason. There must be something behind it.

“That's exactly why.” Sukuna smiled broadly before pulling the ribbons, accentuating his figure.

“I don't understand.” Uraume sighed. “The king sure is a strange curse,” they thought, giving up.

“Patience, Uraume. I only ask for your patience.” Sukuna ruffled their hair before moving to withdraw. “She will die soon, I assure you.” Sukuna gave her one last confident smile before leaving to go to get breakfast. The satisfied smile reappeared on her face. Everything was going according to plan.

The pearl dragon gently set Yorozu down on the tub filled with hot water. Between you and Kenjaku, you removed the bright green armor and the white dress that saved her life. Without those two items, your sister would not have had a chance to survive the morning. Despite being surrounded by warm water, her skin still felt cold. It would take some time for her body to return to its normal temperature.

“She looks awful,” Kenjaku mentioned as he returned the dragon to his body, forming a crystalline blue sphere under his sleeve. “I say you should kill her already,” he advised.

“Kenjaku!” You scolded him. Your eyes threatened him like a whip. “I would never do that, she's my sister.”

“Don't tell me you don't even think about…”

“Enough!” You exclaimed, annoyed. Kenjaku was startled by the frustrated shout. “Don't even think about finishing that sentence!”

“I was just saying.” Kenjaku shrugged. “That's the first time I've seen her so annoyed,” he thought as he analyzed her.

While Sukuna was constantly watching you, Kenjaku was analyzing you. He didn't do it with bad intentions. He wanted to get to know you better, how you act when he is not in your presence. He was making mental notes of things you could improve on. That's why he hadn't helped you take out your sister before. He was surprised to see you pull the sword out of the ice block with minimal effort, wield that sword as if you had ever held one before in your life and cut the ice precisely so as not to hurt your sister. You were special, that much was clear, but there was something else.

“I have 6 days left to kill someone. I still have time,” you told him while you took a bowl to wet your sister's head while untangling her long hair with your fingers. “I will kill anyone but my sister. I will protect her at all costs,” you promised her as you looked into her closed eyes.

“You are such a good person,” Kenjaku replied dryly. “That will only get you killed. He told you before he left. He had to investigate what was going on with you.

You held the bowl tightly to restrain yourself from throwing it at his head when he wasn’t looking. As he disappeared from your sight, you let go of the bowl, letting it float away as if it were a raft. You were fed up. Sick of living in constant fear of surviving in the miserable hole that was the castle. Sick of dealing with your sister's stubbornness. Sick of feeling like you had to deal with a thousand things at once. You needed a break. Even though you had advantages over any of the other inhabitants of the castle, mentally you were worse off than ever. You just wanted this nightmare to be over soon.

Salty tears fell softly on the warm water. You saw yourself in the subtle rippling reflection, tried to fake a smile, but you weren't in the mood for that. You hated having to be stronger than you really were in order to resist the urge to commit suicide by living among corpses. You held your forehead to take a short break from it all. A short break from the king, Kenjaku, Uraume, your sister, the servants, from everyone, absolutely everyone.

You decided to go to your happy place. The warmth of his arms, the close beating of his heart and his soft nightly purr. You felt welcome and safe despite being nestled in the bosom of a genocidal man. It was true that he was full of hate and evil, but last night he was just a man nervous to be in front of a naked woman. Someone who was just hatching out of her shell to give you affection. You hugged yourself to try to replicate the effect he made you feel, but it didn't work. Your arms were much, much thinner in comparison.

Water splashed as the fingers of your sister's hand began to move. You wiped away your tears to greet her with joy that she was now okay. Her eyes squeezed shut as she grew accustomed to the light as you inspected her. Yorozu had never woken up to such a horrible sight. His blood rushed to his head with anger. This was the last person she wanted to see.

“Yorozu!” You exclaimed, happy to see her alive.

Instead of greeting you with a smile as she always used to, Yorozu looked at you with pure hatred. She latched on to the edge of the tub to launch herself at you in a direct attack. She knocked you to the ground to reach your neck to choke you. You grabbed her wrists tightly to fight against her will.

“What are you doing?!” You exclaimed confused when you saw the clear homicide attempt.

“You were going to kill me!” Yorozu exclaimed angrier than ever.

“Of course not! What the fuck are you talking about?!” You asked her before throwing her to the side to get her off of you.

“But you thought it, Kenjaku said so!” Yorozu barely got up on shaky legs.

“It's a misunderstanding! I would never dare to even think about it! You're my little sister!” You exclaimed as you looked at her with “believe me” eyes.

“Pretend to be the good one all you want, but we both know you're a piece of shit inside!” Yorozu approached you at a strong pace to attack you again. You backed off because you didn't want to fight someone who had recently gained consciousness.

“I'm sorry I'm not perfect, Yorozu, but I do everything I can to protect you. I would never hurt you on purpose,” you explained, dodging her attack attempts.

Yorozu stopped in mid-stride to laugh hysterically at your answer. You had never seen her like that before. It was as if someone or something had taken over her body. Her irrational way of acting was starting to scare you.

“Protect me? You protecting me?!” Yorozu exclaimed. “Where were you last night?!” she exclaimed, annoyed.

You swallowed dryly as you remembered the answer. Feeling guilty that you had spent the night in the king's arms while your sister was freezing to death, but you hadn't meant to. You had told her to stay in your room, but you knew you would never convince her that it was her fault. Everything bad that happens to her is your fault. You were starting to get sick of it too. It was getting harder and harder to protect her.

“The king ordered me to spend the night with him,” you admitted.

“You're a fucking bitch,” Yorozu barked before he lunged at you to hit you.

Having only just regained consciousness, she wasn't so quick. You moved out of the way to dodge her and ran for the exit. Yorozu tried to chase you, but you slammed the door in his face. She was banging hard on the door with his shoulder to open it, but you pressed your back against it so he couldn't get out. You pulled a chair that was within your reach to block the door. You sighed from exhaustion before sitting down on the bed in the empty guest room.

“You lying bitch! You said you would only talk to him!” she exclaimed with loud knocks on the door.

“I'm sorry, really, I'm sorry, but I can't let you sacrifice your life like that,” you explained while making sure your sister didn't leave. She had to calm down.

“Why not? I want to do it! You don't even like the king!” Yorozu exclaimed, hitting the door with a rubber hammer she created with the little energy in his body. Thankfully the doors were thick enough not to succumb easily to the tool.

“Sorry. I changed my mind,” you said softly.

Yorozu's thrashing stopped as he understood that the situation had changed. He didn't know what had happened last night, but he knew he wouldn't be pleased to find out. Yorozu cried out in frustration as he pounded on the door with the hammer.

“It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!” She exclaimed in annoyance. “I want to be with the king! That's all I want in life!”

It hurt you to hear her like that, but you knew you couldn't let it happen. Little by little you could see how she was self-destructing under her own weight, she would never be able to withstand the pressure of being accountable to the great king Sukuna, the king of curses. You sighed as you listened to her throw her terrible tantrum.

“I'm sorry, but it's the only thing I won't give you. It's for your own good,” you told her before walking away from the situation. “Please calm down and recover your energy. I will ask one of the servants to bring you breakfast.”

You walked as fast as you could with a firm step to get to your room to get ready for the day, despite what had happened you had to fulfill your obligations for the day. Once you closed the door behind you, you were alone. The world crumbled over you. You collapsed to the floor before letting out a high-pitched cry of frustration as wild tears rolled down your cheeks. Your fingernails scraped the ground in search of something to hold on to. Your chest heaved up and down from spasms from crying. You couldn't breathe properly because your nose was clogged with mucus. Why was everything so hard? Why couldn't you have a normal sister who liked any man? Why were you in this situation? If only you had stayed a simple maid, this wouldn't be happening. You were trying to do everything right, but something always had to go wrong. You hated that it had to come to this point, only now was not the time to give up. You just needed this moment alone to vent your pain.

Sukuna ate breakfast alone for the first time in a long time. It was understandable, you were too busy with your sister to sit at the table to eat with him. He hated it, but he would let it go this time. Seeing no one at the table by the time Uraume brought the food, he just got up to head to his office. The servants looked at him in disbelief as this was the first time this had happened. Uraume looked at him in surprise. They thought his eyes would pop out from opening them so wide during the day.

Sukuna calmly sipped his human blood tisane as he looked out the window. From the cherry-colored sky, the patches of green grass that appeared between the snow, and the few birds that flew over the landscape, he knew that spring was approaching. The season of good beginnings and fertility. If everything went according to plan, he would try to conceive his heir in three more months. Someone knocked on the door, ruining his little moment of peace. He sat at the desk to look busy and gave permission for the person to pass. It was Kenjaku.

“A little bird told me that you spent a nice night with the young lady.” Kenjaku smiled flirtatiously, trying to make the king blush.

“Nice is one way to describe it,” he said, downplaying it.

“Maybe hot is a better definition?” Kenjaku raised his eyebrow flirtatiously. Sukuna raised his fingers, making Kenjaku raise his hands in surrender for fear of being killed at that moment. “I was just joking,” he excused himself. “I just want to know if the books were of any use to you.”

“I didn't even finish reading the first one,” Sukuna admitted before taking a sip of his tea.

“So, I imagine you have a lot of questions for me,” Kenjaku asked excitedly.

“No, really, Y/n explained everything to me,”

“Ah…” The master thought dejectedly. “Really? I'm surprised she knows about such things. I think I was wrong to assume she was a virgin.” The king raised his eyebrow.

“Virgin? What does that mean?” Sukuna asked.

“That she has been subjugated by another man before you,”. Kenjaku answered.

Sukuna squeezed the cup hard enough to break it into a thousand pieces, spilling the hot, reddish liquid over his white clothes. Sukuna didn't understand love, but he did understand control. He was jealous of that imaginary man who once had you in his possession. Who was that man you once obeyed? Who had the pleasure of having you for himself and losing you completely?

"There's some tea in your…" His servant tried to tell him, afraid of the consequences of telling him the truth.

“I know,” Sukuna shushed him. “Is that all? I have to change my clothes.” He reluctantly stood up from his seat.

“I actually came to give you some very good news. I discovered something very interesting this morning,” Kenjaku explained. “Miss Y/n may have a technique.” Sukuna immediately sat down in his seat, completely interested in what the master had to tell him.

“Continue.” The king raised his eyebrow at his uncertainty.

“I still don't know much about it, since I just found out this morning. The only thing I do know is that it has to do with object manipulation. That's why she's good at handling weapons she's never worked with,” Kenjaku explained.

“Was it because of Yorozu?” Sukuna asked him.

“That's right,” the lesser curse nodded. “My hypothesis is that emotions play a big part in her technique. It's most likely an innate technique, so only she will know how to deal with it," he explained.

"It's most likely also a family thing. Yorozu manipulates materials to her liking, it may be directly related to that," Sukuna opined.

"I'll look more into it, I just wanted to let you know, my king." Kenjaku bowed before moving on to leave.

Sukuna covered the big smile on his face. This was going perfectly, according to plan, too perfectly. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to form the great panorama that awaited him. He just had to let his white pieces act on their own and soon he would have what he wanted: castling*.

Unable to break down the door, Yorozu had no choice but to rest in the hot tub to regain strength. Her entire body rested except for her jaw from the stress of the whole situation. She couldn't believe that her own sister had betrayed her. The sister who wanted to protect her precious king. Why couldn't she just let her do whatever she wanted?! If she became queen, he would reward her by letting her go back to her sisters. It was a win-win, but now it seems she really wants to be queen.

“Ugh!” Yorozu kicked the water, spilling it over the bathroom floor.

Everything was so complicated. Everything was spinning around in her head, but something in particular wouldn't leave his mind. “I have 6 days left to kill someone. I still have time” she quoted what you had told Kenjaku while she was recovering. It was strange. Why did you have to kill someone and why did you have a deadline? You would never kill someone of your own free will, someone must have asked you to. “The king most likely”, she thought about an answer. Now she had to know why he had asked you. The king is so strong and big that he can kill anyone whenever he wants. Why would he ask you to do his dirty work for him?

“Wait!” A lightbulb went off in her mind. “Is that why you two haven't married?” Yorozu had an eureka moment.

If her assumption was right, she had to act right then. She jumped out of the tub to look at herself in the mirror, she didn't look bad at all for having spent the whole night on a piece of ice. She created her beetle armor arm to knock down the door with a bang. She undid it so she wouldn't get dizzy, she was barely recovering. She went out skipping with happiness. "I'm going for that crown, sis!" she thought happily.

She arrived at the king's room after looking for him in his office. One of the servants, blushing at the sight of her bare breasts, told her that the king had stained his clothes. She knocked on the door three times and the king opened it, disappointed that it was her. Yorozu blushed from head to toe when she saw him with only a towel around his waist. She had interrupted him while he was getting ready again after having stained himself, he had just finished washing.

"I see you survived," Sukuna said, crossing his arms. "How can you live after losing to Uraume?" I asked him why he felt ashamed, but I doubted that word existed in his vocabulary when I noticed that she was completely naked.

"They are a great sorcerer, hard to beat," she admitted with a pout.

"What do you want here?" Sukuna asked her directly.

"Why hasn't he married my sister?" I asked her.

"What do you care about that?" Sukuna answered reluctantly for meddling in other people's personal affairs.

“Is it because she hasn't killed anyone yet?” Yorozu asked him with a gleam in her eyes.

“She told you?” The king frowned.

“No. I figured it out myself,” she said proudly. Sukuna leaned against the large door frame that was custom made for him like the rest of the castle.

“I see. And what will you do with that information?” He was interested in her answer.

“If I kill someone before her, can I become the queen?” Sukuna opened his eyes at the sudden confession.

And that was how he realized what Yorozu was hiding all this time. She was acting like his powerful apprentice so she could win his heart and give her the position he had offered her sister. Even though she was not a saint of his devotion, he liked that fierce part of her. It's a rare trait in women of her type.

“Fine. You have 6 days to kill her.” Sukuna agreed. Yorozu's eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Yes, my king! I'll kill the first one I find on the way!” She said excitedly.

“Did you not hear well?” The king growled angrily. He approached her level to face her. “I told your sister that she could kill anyone because that alone is complicated for her. You, on the other hand, have a cursed technique, so I must give you a challenge.”

Yorozu's eyes widened as she had the king so close to her face. He had never approached her like that. Her heart began to beat a thousand times an hour while her body tensed with emotion. It was difficult to focus when he was hypnotizing her with his eyes.

“You must kill your sister, do you understand?” Sukuna repeated slowly so she would understand.

"Yes, my king," she said between stammers.

“Well, let me know when you do it. It will be interesting to see.” Sukuna raised his torso to look down at her with superiority.

“I will do it tomorrow when I regain my energy, my king,” Yorozu warned him with a blush on his cheeks. “I will not let you down!” He said goodbye before returning to his room with excitement.

Sukuna followed his sister-in-law's bouncing butt until he lost sight of her to close the door and see Mrs. Inoue who was hiding behind it during the entire conversation. The poor woman had heard the conversation, since she was the unfortunate enough person in charge of cleaning him on that occasion. The poor woman trembled like a pudding in an earthquake after hearing the grim conversation. They were about to kill her best friend, she had to do something!

“Don't you have something to do?” Sukuna opened the door to the woman. She immediately understood the task that had been assigned to her.

“I'll go tell her right now!” The lady exclaimed before running off as fast as her chubby legs would allow her. He held the smile again, it was too early to celebrate. Everything was going according to plan, all that was left was for the tower to switch places with the king.

You were reading one of the hundreds of books that Kenjaku had left you as homework next to the giant window. The afternoon was slowly falling, darkening first on the horizon and then slowly eating up the sky. You repeated the same sentence over and over again as if you couldn't concentrate. You kept thinking about your sister and what to do with her. The first idea was to get her out of the castle, but neither Sukuna nor she would allow that. The second idea was to lock your sister up for life. The third idea was to throw yourself into the jaws of the three-headed bear. You stuck your head in the book as you lost all concentration.

“Miss!” Mrs. Inoue's scream caught your attention. “Miss!” She exclaimed again before entering the library. Her voice was broken and her body was shaking. You quickly approached her to give her a chair to sit on.

“What's wrong?! Are you okay?!” You asked her worriedly as soon as she sat down.

“It's…! “The filth”, I mean, your sister!” She answered with her voice broken from running all over the castle.

“My sister?! What's wrong with her?!” That worried you even more. You knelt down in front of her to look at her face.

“Nothing's wrong with her,” she said, catching your breath. “But your life is in danger. Tomorrow she's going to kill you in front of the king.” Your heart almost stopped at that moment.

“No... It can't be... She's just exaggerating because she's angry.” Mrs. Inoue slapped you when you were in denial.

“Wake up, kid!” Mrs. Inoue pinched your cheeks. “It's like when they offered us an escape route at the harvest! I heard from her own mouth that she's going to take everything from you! The reign, the husband, the life, everything! Everything is clearer than water!” Mrs. Inoue announced, paranoid.

So that's how it was? You weren't sad anymore, you were more furious than ever. You clenched your fists tightly. Yorozu had chosen a terrible tyrant over her own sister? Well, you were about to choose the same to teach her the lesson of her life.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Inoue. I’ll take care of it.” You smiled at her, placing your hand on her back to reassure her.

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gennemi · 11 months ago

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𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 (𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑷𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝑴𝒆𝒏 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔)

A/N: Happy New Year's to all my lovely followers! I hope you all had a safe and lovely New Year's, I love you all! ✨🖤 and thank you to my friend for helping me make this happen! 🖤✨

Includes: Dracule Mihawk, Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, Sanji Vinsmoke, Buggy the Clown, Red-Haired Shanks, Trafalgar D. Water Law, and Portgas D. Ace

Warnings: Pure Fluff, mentions of Alcohol, kissing, just pure fluff, non binary reader.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌:

Mihawk and his lover are just spending New Year's just the both of them, sipping on his favorite vintage wine, having light conversation, and cooking New Years dinner together, and even making little snacks, to snack on. The two of them were making small conversation about how this year went.

Spending time together is all the two wanted to start the new year, no one else but them. It was basically an hour before midnight. So right now the two were currently dancing around the large living room of their castle that they called home. The two lovers didn’t need music to dance.

He looked at the clock, it read a minute before midnight. He pulled her close to him, looking into her eyes with his hawk-like eyes. As he continued to hold them close to him, spinning them around softly, he looked back at the clock, and saw it had hit midnight.

“Happy New Year Darling, here's to another amazing year with you.”

He spoke softly, as he pulled them in to give them a New Years Kiss.

𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝑫. 𝑳𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒚:

“Happy New Year Y/N!” the straw hat captain grinned. The straw hats, with the help of Franky and Nami keeping up with time, had planned a big feast to celebrate the beginning of a New Year. Smiling warmly at their captain trying to steal food while Usopp and Nami valiantly defending the food. Zoro was already sipping on his booze, Robin was relaxing while using her devil fruit ability to help bring food to the table.

After the big feast, it was about a few minutes before midnight, the two went to another part of the Thousand Sunny, to spend alone time together. They had a small conversation together. Her giggling at Luffy being his usual silly self, he loved hearing them laugh. And seeing their smile.

Soon the fireworks went off, the fireworks being Nami’s idea, so they had bought the fireworks to shoot off “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” They heard their fellow crewmates shout. He poked them on the shoulder, she looked at him.

“Happy New Year!”

He cheered out, happily as he pulled them close, giving them a New Years Kiss.

𝑹𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒂 𝒁𝒐𝒓𝒐:

For New Years he wanted to spend time with them just the two of them. Up in the crows nest of the Thousand Sunny with a bottle of sake. And a plate of food for them to eat, while their crew members partied down below, he was planning something a little special, as soon as the fireworks went off (Which were Nami’s idea)

The two were sharing a bottle of sake, while talking. All cuddled up together in the crows nest. The two were cracking jokes about the things that had happened during this year, and hoping to make fond memories for every year to come. They don’t even know the time currently. Too busy wrapped up in each other's embrace.

The fireworks then suddenly went off with their fellow crewmates yelling “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” from below them, he looked over at her softly grabbing their face, to have them look at him.

“Happy New Year babe, here’s to the new year. And plenty more to go.”

He spoke, as his lips pressed against hers. Giving them a New Years Kiss.

𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝑽𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒆:

The straw hat crew was hosting a New Year party/feast on the Thousand Sunny. Sanji and his beloved were drinking some wine together, while eating the food that Sanji prepared with their help. The couple were happy to go into the new year together. As the crew laughed, and conversated about how this year went. All the memories they made.

Sanji and his beloved were conversing about the good, bad, and funny memories they made together. As they snuggled up together, waiting on Franky and Nami to shoot off the fireworks. To go into the new year.

Soon the fireworks went off, he looked over at them pulling them close to him, putting a hand softly on their cheek.

“Happy New Year my beloved, here's to many more with you~”

He spoke, as he leaned in and softly gave them a New Years Kiss.

𝑩𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒏:

There was a party being hosted by Buggy himself on The Big Top. It was a New Years party to celebrate going into the new year, with plenty of sake and food to go around, it was a whole feast. In their own corner was Buggy and Y/N spending time with each other, eating food and drinking sake together.

They had planned to shoot off fireworks, as soon as it was midnight. And Buggy also had something planned to go into the new year with his lover. He felt happy to celebrate new years with them, he couldn’t wait until it hit midnight.

Soon the sound of fireworks in the sky surrounded the area, they looked up at the fireworks in awe as the crew yelled out “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” as they cheered and hollered, Buggy pulled them close to him, causing them to look at him.

“Happy New Year Doll~”

He cooed softly, as he pulled them in for a New Years Kiss.

𝑹𝒆𝒅-𝑯𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔:

The crew was of course celebrating New Year with a party, with of course alcohol being involved. Shanks had his love sitting on his lap, him being the clingy partner that he is. Wanted them close to him, as the two drank on the rum. And ate on the food that was served.

They had managed to buy fireworks for this occasion, as his love wanted fireworks. And him being the amazing lover that he is. Made sure that happened. The one keeping up with the time was Lucky Roux, he let everyone know it was almost time for it.

The time went by fast as the fireworks now went off, shooting up into the sky with different, beautiful but vibrant colors, he pulled them close to him, to get their attention. They looked at him.

“Happy New Year Love, to many more with you.”

He pulled them into a New Years Kiss.

𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝑫. 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒂𝒘:

The Heart Pirates were celebrating new years on the Polar Tang, with food and snacks, and drinks to choose from, it was just a small celebration amongst the crew. Law and his lover were hanging out on the deck, just them wanting to spend alone time together. He had a watch on his wrist so he could tell when it's midnight.

He wanted to do something special for them as soon as midnight hit, he was listened to them rant about the memories good, bad,and silly that they made this year, and hoping to make the same memories with him during the new year.

He looked at his watch, noticing it was now midnight. He looked over at them, touching their face gently, causing them to look at him, he leaned in close to them.

“Happy New Year Doll.”

He whispered softly, bringing them into a New Years Kiss.

𝑷𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒈𝒂𝒔 𝑫. 𝑨𝒄𝒆:

The two were strolling down the busy street hand in hand, they wanted to come to the New Years Festival with him, and how could he say no to his lover. The two were sharing a candied apple. Looking at all the stalls open, the smells of different foods wafting in the air.

When it was almost time for the fireworks to go off, the two went to the outskirts of the town, and sat down on a small hill, where they are still able to see the fireworks go off. They were joking around, and talking to pass the time.

Soon the fireworks went off as they heard cheers from the festival below, the two looked at each other, this was his chance, he put one of his hands softly on their cheek rubbing it softly.

“Happy New Year My Flame!”

He cheerfully said, as he gave them a kiss, a New Years Kiss.

#gennemi writes #one piece #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #buggy the clown x reader #one piece buggy #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece zoro #portgas ace x reader #one piece portgas d ace #sanji x reader #one piece sanji

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daechwitatamic · 11 months ago

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The Price || MYG

banner by @/itaeewon

The Price

Rating: NSWF - minors do not have my consent to interact Genre: Snow White and the Huntsman!au, angst, smut, unhappy ending WC: 8k

Summary: The Queen is responsible for everything you call yours: your home, your job, your freedom. You live without laying claim to anything else, lest the Queen leverage more in exchange for her grace. But the Queen has just named her latest price: the life of the young blacksmith, Min Yoongi.

Warnings: language, drinking, there’s a plague and it’s a problem, reader’s parents died (see the previous warning lol) and there are scenes of her grieving process, reader is a hunter so there’s mentions of animal carcasses and hides, lots of mentions of reader’s big fancy knife, a murder attempt, kissing, nip stim, groping, fingering, clit stim, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), reader on top, angst, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: Part of the Make Me Your Villain collab! Please give the other authors a lot of love!!! Huge huge huge thank you to @/here2bbtstrash for beta-ing!

Mirror, mirror - look and see. Who might take this throne from me? Mirror, mirror - who's the threat? Show me which boy's blood to let.

There are pros and cons to living outside the village. The pros are that you’re mostly left alone - you live by your own laws, most of the time. It’s better this way; you come and go as you please, you don’t worry about latest fashions or gossip, you aren’t under the thumb of any societal niceties or norms. You concern yourself more with what the forest tells you. Bad weather, humans who don’t belong, sickness on the horizon - the forest knows it all, and you know how to listen.

You knew about the plague - in a vague, something isn’t right here kind of way - days before the first villager fell sick. You didn’t see anything bigger than a possum for three days - you knew something was in the air. It was the baker first, then his wife. Now it’s made its way into the castle, the guards and servants falling like flies.

Another pro - you won’t pick up illness from the baker if you make your own bread in your tiny cabin in the woods.

The main con - the only con, really - is that when you make your weekly trek to the castle to present the King and Queen with your scores (deer, mostly, but usually a few fowl too) it takes so damn long to get there.

It would be faster on foot, much faster, but you have to load your kills onto a cart and take the dirt road, which winds and twists and takes its time. Today your cart is loaded: venison, fowl, a few rabbits, even a fox. That had been a good score. The Queen likes furs - she’ll pay you well for it.

But the trip into town once a week is a fair price for your freedom, you think.

A few vendors through the heart of town wave hello as you pass. You lift your hand in response but don’t stop. You’ll shop after, when your cart is empty and your purse is full. For now, you stay on the main road until it changes over from tamped-down dirt to cobblestone to, eventually, flat stone that leads to the bridge over the castle’s moat.

The usual guard, the one who knows your face and always waves you through, isn’t there. You wonder if the plague reached him, if he’ll recover or if they’ll send his body to the sea like all the others.

You show identification, the card nearly illegible due to how many times it’s been folded and stuffed into your shoe for safekeeping, and this new guard waves you on.

As usual, you stop in the courtyard just inside the first set of walls. You hop down and start undoing the straps of the fabric you have over the top of the cart. Two guards join you, and they begin moving your scores down from the cart. Each is weighed and given a quick once-over as a scribe stands to the side recording it all.

“Make sure you mention how nice that hide is,” you tell him, pointing at the fox. “I got that one special, for her.”

The scribe rolls his eyes a little, but you see him peer at the fox and scribble something on his little parchment. When they’re done, your cart empty, the scribe rolls his paper up and leads you up the steps towards the main doors to the castle. You flip one of the guards a silver coin and follow the scribe. As you head up the steps, you hear the sound of your horse’s feet moving across the stone, the cart creaking and groaning behind him, as the guard you paid takes him to be cared for.

Inside, you follow the thick, red carpet into the throne room. You’re surprised to see only the Queen present, but you school your face and drop into a bow anyway, your forehead brushing the soft carpeting.

When you rise, you see the scribe has handed her the parchment, and she reads over the report of your goods. You wait, knowing better than to speak until she has.

“A good week,” she observes.

“Yes, your Grace,” you say, eyes on the carpet. “I was pleased as well.”

“Are you well?” she asks as she signals for her Chief of Coin, who scurries close to the throne and lowers his head to hear her whispers.

“Quite well,” you say automatically, though you’re not sure what exactly she’s asking. Does she mean your health? Your home?

The Chief of Coin makes his way to you and you pull your practically-empty purse from your back pocket.

“You have need of nothing?” she asks.

This would be your opportunity to ask after anything major - repairs on your home, medicine, anything you couldn’t get during your walk back through town.

“No, your Grace,” you say. “I had need of a new blade, but the local smith took my request.”

The local smith and your new blade are one of your stops on your way home.

“I’ve heard from the citadel,” she tells you, and you pull your eyes away from the Chief of Coin to look at her. “They say your brother is doing well. He’s applying himself to his studies.”

When you’d lost your parents, you’d begged to keep your brother yourself, desperate to keep him away from the citadel’s orphanage. You were of age, could handle yourself. You could handle him, too, you’d argued.

The King had considered this. Your family was well-known in the village, and your father had hunted for the crown for many years. Your brother was only about five years out from finishing his schooling.

You were investments, you and your brother.

In the end, the deal had been struck - the crown would see to the rest of his education under the condition that when he finished he’d work for the crown, pay back his debt, begin to build his own name.

And, in the meantime, you’d take over the hunting. You could keep your family’s little cabin out in the woods, away from town. Your brother wouldn’t be apprenticed off to a stranger.

It was an easy deal to agree to.

“We’re grateful for the opportunity,” you say to the Queen. “If the report said anything less, I’d travel there to knock sense into him, myself. He’s at that age. You know.”

You try to bite back a cringe. The Queen might not know. She’d never been able to bear a child for the King.

She smiles at this, thinly. “Very well,” she says, and you take back your now-heavy purse from the Chief of Coin. ��Then I shall see you next week. I wish you continued health in the upcoming days.”

You nod your head. “I wish the crown health and longevity,” you say. Head bowed, you miss the way her eyes tighten.

–

You pick up the goods you need - eggs, flour, and the like - on your way through town. You eye the tavern, tempted to stop for a pint. Alas, you are embarrassingly excited to get your new blade, so instead you carry on down the road towards the smithy.

After tying up your horse - though he’s a lazy thing and probably wouldn’t wonder anyway, not with the cart hitched up - you head inside, following the sounds of a hammer striking metal.

You wait until there’s a break in the noise and then shout a hey back towards the open door to let the team know they have a customer.

There’s the sound of a heavy instrument being dropped to the ground, and you catch yourself smoothing your hair back. Stop it, you scold yourself, scowling.

That’s the face that greets the youngest of the smithing team, Min Yoongi, as he steps into the shop, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light.

“Ah,” he says, lips curling into a smirk. “Is it Thursday already?”

“Is my blade ready?” you ask, ignoring both his self-satisfied grin and his question. “Park Jihoon said I could get it today.”

At his boss’s name, Yoongi’s smirk fades until he’s all business again. He turns to the wall, where special orders are tacked. He searches until he finds yours.

“It’s ready,” he grunts, reading the slip of parchment. “Wait here.”

He disappears into the back again, returning with a hefty-looking blade, sheathed in a leather case.

He places it on the counter between you, pulls the blade from its case and turns it over so you can see each side.

You frown. “I didn’t order engraving on the case,” you say, jutting your chin towards the delicate design at the top. It curls in and around itself, all the way around. “I’d better not have to pay extra for that.”

“Ah, but he worked so hard on it!” Park Jihoon says cheerfully, appearing out of the back and clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. You keep your eyes on the knife; Yoongi looks steadfastly at the wall with the orders, a pink flush working up his neck.

“It’s not extra,” he mutters.

“I’m heading to Bridgeport,” the senior blacksmith tells Yoongi. “I’ll be back before sundown. You’ll be okay here?”

“Of course I will,” Yoongi says, disgruntled. Jihoon nods goodbye at you both and moves through the door, leaving you in silence.

“What’s the price?” you ask, placing your purse on the counter and digging for coins. He turns the paper over so you can see what his boss wrote, and you slide him the payment. You work on attaching the blade’s sheath to your belt, ignoring how Yoongi watches you through heavy-hooded eyes.

You know that look. You are ignoring that look.

“Lovely,” you say, once you’re situated and ready to go. You swipe up your purse and toss it once, catching it deftly. “Have fun pounding on metal, or whatever.”

His grin is razor-sharp. “I’d be happy to pound something else, if you want.”

The laugh rips out of you, unbidden and unwanted. “Disgusting,” you tell him, but the laughter takes the bite out of the words. “My God, you ought to throw yourself down the well for that.”

He lifts a brow, his smile turning less dangerous and more open.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “None of that today, thanks. I’ll be off.”

“Come on,” he cajoles, coming around the counter to follow you to the door. “You know you want some. It’ll be such a long ride back here when you change your mind later.”

“Keep dreaming, blacksmith,” you tell him, lips pursing in amusement.

He lays a hand over his heart like he’s wounded. “Blacksmith? You remembered my name just fine last week when you were -.”

“Well, I seem to have forgotten it again!” you blurt before he can finish the thought, pulling the door open. Over your shoulder you call, “Good day!”

His laughter rings out onto the street, following you home.

Regretfully, you have to admit that out of everyone who lives in this village, built out from the castle’s western gate, you know the most about Min Yoongi.

You knew him in passing, of course - before. When you’d ride through this same village on this same cart, your little brother squeezed between you and your father. When you’d stand silently, peeking around your father’s side, while he took payment from the King for his scores. When you’d greet the peddlers and the shop-keepers politely before climbing back on the cart and riding all the way back home.

Yoongi was just an apprentice then. You hadn’t paid him any mind. He was quiet, a bit scruffy, stayed close to Park Jihoon. He was no more interesting to you than the apprentice for the bakery, the tannery, the copywrite. Wasn’t even the best looking out of the bunch, honestly.

He was just there, unassuming. He was there when you’d pass through town on the cart full of your father’s scores, there whenever your family had business with the blacksmith, there when the holidays rolled through and your mother dragged you into town in a dress you hated and shoes that pinched.

There the day your parents’ bodies, along with six others, were loaded onto a barge headed for the sea. There the day your brother joined four more young people from the village as they climbed into a deep blue carriage headed for the citadel.

Yoongi’s dark eyes, cool and undemanding, had been on you as you stood fully alone for the first time in your life.

You hadn’t paid him any attention then, either. You couldn’t pay mind to anything then except dragging yourself through dark day after dark day until, finally, the clouds seemed to part and your new life seemed bearable. And bearable turned into decent. And decent turned into enjoyable.

The seasons turned. The hurts faded.

And you began to pay mind to Min Yoongi.

You began to learn things about him, then - after.

In your time around town, you learned first that he was good at his work - his blades were made well, easily as well as his master’s blades. You learned that he scowled and grunted but hardly ever meant it. You learned that he had a good reputation around the village - was known for helping his neighbors without being asked, known for being polite and keeping to himself. You learned that he had no family either, that the master blacksmith who’d taken him as an apprentice had more or less raised him, too.

Alone with him, you learned that his smile could be razor sharp, one side lifting and eyes glinting in a way that made your pulse sing. You learned that when he meant it, his eyes squeezed shut and his gums showed. His shoulders shook when he laughed. He made the funniest faces when someone said anything he didn’t agree with or didn’t understand. He’d grown strong, his craft shaping his arms and roughening his hands.

You learned that he took whiskey neat at the tavern when he was done working for the day. You learned that he had a smart mouth behind his quiet demeanor, and opinions about everything. You learned what he was willing and able to do with that mouth when he pressed you against the rough wood of the tavern’s side alley, and then later, back in his rooms behind the smithy.

You learned that he fucked rough but loved soft.

And that was where it had to stop.

Because it couldn’t be - but this you knew the whole time.

When he pressed his mouth to yours sweetly, stretching to reach you, brushed one lovely finger down your cheek and whispered, I want you, you knew this: it couldn’t be.

There was no life for you in the village. There was no life for you as someone’s wife. There was no future for you as someone’s homemaker.

Even if he could somehow give you partnership and love without taking away the wildness of your lifestyle - there was no love ready to bloom and grow behind your iron ribs. You had nothing you could give him back. You knew only survival. Only killing and coin. Only the forest and its secrets.

“You can’t have me,” you’d whispered back. “I am not to be had.”

You were surprised when he didn’t fight it. He hadn’t pushed back. He hadn’t held it against you, hadn’t been wounded. He’d accepted exactly what you were willing to give him and asked for nothing more.

You know this, above all else: he’s sweet, and conscientious, and good. Yoongi is good.

You - forest-dweller, hunter, orphan, unmannered, uneducated - don’t deserve him. You aren’t enough for how good he is.

The royal physician’s face says it all.

The Queen purses her lips, her eyes on her husband’s prone form. He meets her gaze weakly, too far gone to mask any of it.

“How long?” she asks, the words clipped.

The physician spreads his hands before him. “Impossible to say, your Majesty. Days, maybe. Weeks, if he can be strong.”

She scoffs. “Days it shall be, then.” She dismisses him with the wave of a hand.

No one is surprised, she thinks. The plague would breach their walls eventually. Only the strong survive - of course it would be her husband who would succumb first, and quickly. He’d never been strong, not like her.

After all, she was the one who tried all these years. She looked and acted the part of a partner. She was faithful. She focused on the crown, on the realm.

Not like him.

He coughs as he shifts on the bed, and she looks at him again. Weak, she thinks again. She can only feel disgust for him, for everything he never gave her.

“You’ll finally get what you always wanted,” he croaks.

She turns to look out the window. The day is grey, dreary.

“It seems I shall,” she agrees. Then she turns and walks closer to her husband’s sickbed - deathbed, perhaps. She drops delicately into the chair at his side and takes his clammy hand in hers.

It might look as if she doted on him. It might look as if she mourned.

“What became of him?” she asks, voice even and unbending. “The boy.”

Her husband’s eyes crinkle with amusement, and the chuckle that rumbles from his chest is accompanied by pained coughing.

“You truly are something, my Queen,” he says, shaking his head. “The boy doesn’t even know.”

He will say nothing else.

The Queen is delivered two things at once, not a week later.

The first, a gilded mirror, promised to possess magical ability.

The second, the expected news of her husband’s passing.

The realm begins its period of mourning, flags lowering, shutters closing. The Queen begins her incantations, alone in the southernmost tower of the keep.

The frame is made of ornately twisted gold, so heavy it takes two of her men to hang it for her. When they pull the dust cover off, she steps back to appraise it.

“Pretty,” she observes, watching her own reflection in the glass - unmagical, unextraordinary.

The swirling, green-hued mist doesn’t appear before her reflection until her men are dismissed, the door closing and leaving her alone.

Your Majesty, the mirror intones, the voice coming from the depth of the mist. Your wish is my command.

The Queen pauses, considering. The throne, the throne - hers, finally, only hers.

Unless.

The King’s last words to her ring through her head - the boy doesn’t even know.

She raises her chin and chants,

“Mirror, mirror, look and see…

Who could take this throne from me?

Mirror, mirror, who’s the threat?

Show me which boy’s blood to let.”

The mist, green and growing, takes over the glass. The Queen’s fists clench tightly at her sides.

The mist clears. The Queen lets out a laugh, short and bitter.

The blacksmith’s boy smiles shyly in the glass, one hand coming up as if to hide his face.

The blacksmith’s boy. The king’s bastard. Her only threat, the only other claim to her throne.

Your next trip into town isn’t with a cart full of venison and fowl. Instead it rings more true to the holidays of old, with your mother in charge. You wear black and a scowl, just as you did then.

The funeral services for the King threaten to last the full day, maybe into the night. You wish you could abstain, but if ever there was an event you were obligated to attend - this would be it.

You’re not sure what the King’s death means for you - for your brother. Will the Queen uphold the bargain? Does she still want your brother’s counsel, someday, when he’s of age? Without the King’s affection for your father, will she continue to allow you to live freely as part of the arrangement?

You sit alone in the church pew; rather, you’re surrounded on either side by strangers. You know Yoongi’s in the crowd somewhere - you can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You don’t turn to look for him. What good would it do?

It’s well after dark when the town begins to file out into the night. Your stomach growls, and you ponder if you should stop for a hot meal at the tavern before making the trek back through the woods or if you can hold out until you’re safely back at home.

You’re stopped on your way out the door by a guard reaching across you, blocking your path.

“Her Majesty requests your audience,” he says gruffly, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand at attention. Your audience?

It can’t be good. You’re sure of it.

You don’t meet her in the throne room as you have in the past. Instead, the guard leads you to a small chamber off the chapel, a nondescript little room with no decor, only a table with a candelabra lit in the center.

She’s seated, and it’s so cramped in the room that it’s hard to properly bow, but you do your best.

“Is my brother well?” you blurt out as soon as the guard has closed the door behind you. It was the first, biggest concern you had - you couldn’t hold it in. Had something happened in the citadel?

She inclines her head, shrouded in darkness. “I asked you here because I need something done. You seem, somehow, to be my best option.”

You duck your head, flooded with relief. “I’m at your service, as always.”

And you are. You owe the crown everything - the home you were allowed to keep, your brother’s education, your income. Your freedom, as conditional as it is.

The Queen seems to think before she speaks, and when she does each word is short and deliberate.

“There’s someone I need gone,” she says, her voice giving away no emotion. No sign of grief from the widow, no sign of trepidation from the new ruler, no sign of regret from the human asking you to take a life. “A threat to my throne. I’ll pay five times our normal scale. And I’ll pay you for your discretion, as well, on an ongoing basis.”

You respond with silence. You can’t process quickly enough - you don’t know what to tell her.

The only thing you can tell her is yes. She holds your whole world in her hands.

But if you tell her yes, then you have to do it. Can you kill a person, can you pretend it’s no different from cutting a rabbit’s throat?

Could you tell her yes and then leave? Vanish into the forest? What would become of your brother, if you did? Would he be responsible for your sins?

Five times your normal price could do a lot for you. You could send finer clothes to your brother, help pay for his books, maybe even a little spending money. You could fix up the cabin - patch the roof where it leaks, reinforce the cellar the way you’ve thought about for years.

And payment for your silence - ongoing? For how long, forever?

None of it matters. You can’t say no to the Queen.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you hear yourself say. Your stomach is a block of ice, turning over and over with the tide. “I am yours to command.”

You know it. She knows it.

“The blacksmith’s boy,” she says coolly, and you aren’t even surprised. It’s like part of you knew, somehow. Part of you has been waiting for this ending all along. Isn’t this exactly why you’d never let him get too close? There was never a happy ending in the stars - not for you.

She accepts your silence as acquiescence and adds, “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” you repeat, voice coming out too wispy.

She meets your gaze, still cold. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you say, the only correct answer. But your mind is scrambling far away, getting ahead - what weapons do you have on hand, how will you do this -

“You didn’t strike me as softhearted,” she says, full of disdain.

“I’m not,” you defend. It’s just that it’s Yoongi. Yoongi, who sees your sharp edges and smiles because he knows firsthand how much sharp edges are worth. How - how - how can you? How can you pretend it’s just a hunt, just a necessity, when you know how his mouth tastes, how he looks at you like you’re something?

Her even look turns darker, a shade closer to a frown. “I know you have the stomach and skill to kill. And I know you dally with him. He’ll follow you - take him to the woods and be done with it.”

You haven’t been as discrete as you thought you had. You wonder who else in town knows about whom you dally with.

Not that it will matter, after tonight. Not if you follow orders.

Not when you follow orders.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you say, head bowed.

There’s no other correct answer. Your freedom had always had a price.

–

There’s some poetic irony, you think, in killing Min Yoongi with the blade he made just for you.

Your mind is stuck on this, circling it, unable to let go, as you approach the smithy.

The lights are out - there’ll be no late-night projects, not during the official mourning for the King. You hope Park Jihoon, whose quarters are above the smithy, just across the yard from Yoongi’s tiny cabin, sleeps deeply.

You know Yoongi keeps a key in the eaves above his front window; you’ve seen him retrieve it no less than a half-dozen times - usually he’s reaching for it, his shirt rising and showing a slip of belly that you can’t help but run your hands across as he laughs and tells you to be patient.

You reach it on your own, tonight. You let yourself in as silently as possible, closing the door behind you, placing the key gently on his tiny, wooden table. His bed is in the far corner of the room, and although the fire in the hearth has gone out, you can see the lump of blankets through the darkness that show you his form.

You approach quietly, as you would approach a potential score, letting yourself slip into the mindset of surviving the forest.

You hesitate when you stand over him. He sleeps on his back, the light from the streetlamps outside casting flickering yellow over his delicate features. His eyelids flutter. Next to his head, his fingers twitch.

If you strike true, this could be over in an instant.

His eyes slide open, and a hazy smile drifts over his face. “Am I having a very good dream?” he murmurs. His eyes trail down your form and freeze on the knife in your hand. The smile fades, and his eyes meet yours again, a question in them. “Or perhaps a very bad one?”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Then, you move at the same time - you lunging and plunging the blade into the spot where his heart lay, and him rolling sideways and hitting the floor with a thud.

You yank your blade free from where it pierced Yoongi’s empty mattress and wheel to follow him as he scrambles upright and towards the door.

You should’ve locked it. You shouldn’t have apologized, your voice and your regret giving him the split second to bolt.

You follow him at a sprint, panting hard, as the fool runs barefoot through the smithy’s yard, heading for the forest.

Your forest.

It’s overcast tonight, threatening rain. No moon or stars to guide you, you follow Yoongi as he zigs and zags blindly through the trees. You have the advantage. You know where you are, even in the dark.

It’s primal, as you forge deeper and deeper through the underbrush, just sinew and silence as you run. Wind whistles around you as you focus on breathing, focus on following the crunch of Yoongi’s wild path. The earth seems to rise up to meet each footfall with a jolting slap. The darkness seems to spur you on like it knows you need this, pressing you onward, telling you, hurry, hurry.

If you can herd him towards the east, you can cut him off at the ravine - he won’t be able to do it barefoot, not without stumbling, not without cutting those bare feet on the sharp rocks. You pick up the pace, emboldened by the plan, knees and elbows pumping as you close in.

Without warning, Yoongi stops short and wheels around on you, feet skidding a little on the loose needles that coat the forest floor. It’s so unexpected that the inertia carries you to him before you can tell your legs to quit. Before you can slow, before you can turn, he grabs you by the arms and slams you backwards into the thick trunk of an oak tree, hard enough to knock the wind out of you with an audible gasp.

You’re surprised enough that the knife drops from your fingers, and he wastes no time gripping you even tighter and throwing you to the ground, instantly dropping his body over yours and holding you down as best he can as you struggle. The blade lies just out of reach, taunting you, and you reach up and stretch as hard as you can to wiggle your fingers closer, but Yoongi roughly jerks your arm away.

You’re gasping for breath as you struggle beneath his weight, trying to keep your vision clear. This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to have to chase him, have to fight him. You aren’t used to this - the deer don’t fight back.

“Why?” he pants heavily, his whole body heaving with each inhale and exhale. Sweat runs down his neck from the curled, damp edges of his hair. His eyes are wild, confused above you.

“Do you know who your father is?” you respond in answer, and the question surprises him so much that he leans back, like he’s trying to get a better look at you.

It’s all you need. You use your feet and your core strength to stretch just past where you couldn’t reach with his full weight on you, and your fingers close around the blade’s handle. In a flash, you have the sharp side pressing to the pulse point on Yoongi’s neck, hard enough that you know he can feel the sting, your other hand curling in his shirt and holding him still. His eyes widen and he freezes, straining to hold himself up and away from you.

“If you move I’ll do it, and it won’t be quick,” you hiss, teeth gritted so hard you’re sure they’ll crack. Your heart slams in your chest, adrenaline sending tingles clear down to your toes. You’re dizzy with fear. You aren’t sure what’s scarier - actually doing what you’re meant to, or having to report that you didn’t.

You’re both stuck there - a tableau, an oil painting, frozen for eternity, never moving on from this moment. A million possibilities stretch on as Yoongi’s pulse beats visibly against the knife he’d sharpened for you just days ago.

You feel like you’re floating outside your body; you can’t feel any of it - not the knife’s handle against your palm, not Yoongi’s hips still pinning yours, not the sticks and stones beneath your spine, not the sticky humidity of a night on the precipice of storm. Not your own thrumming, frightened heartbeat.

You know you can’t do it - not this way. Not like this, not with his eyes on yours, steady, as if he’s not staring down his death. Not like this, looking into his face and remembering the first time you were under him this way, remembering every time after that. Your hand trembles as you will yourself not to pull the blade away.

But he knows. Yoongi’s always called your every bluff, has always been perfectly capable of shooting you a knowing half-smile and pushing right past your blustering, always able to find the person on the other side of the facade - the person who’s scared,confused, alone.

“No you won’t,” he murmurs, low, and there’s nothing accusing or mocking in it. He’s simply telling you what he knows.

Slowly, carefully, he lowers his face closer to yours, so deliberately that the knife slides harmlessly along his skin until he’s clear of it. He presses his lips to yours, uncertain at first, then with more insistence when you don’t push him away.

The fear and adrenaline crash through you in time with a not-so-distant crack of thunder, blinding you, rendering you thoughtless and animalistic. You drop the knife with a thud, barely aware that you’re doing it, your hand coming instead to tangle in his loose hair, clutching it tightly at the base of his neck and pressing his head closer to yours, kissing him deeper, needing to absolutely drown in his kiss.

He grunts at your enthusiasm, nipping at your bottom lip before diving into you again, licking deep into your mouth and pressing his hips down into yours in rhythm with the kiss. You move with him desperately, the quiet of the woods scattered by your combined gasping breaths, tiny sounds of pleasure slipping through the cracks in your armor, the wet sounds of your mouths coming apart and meeting again hungrily. Despite the earth solid beneath you, you feel like you’re spinning. You clutch him tightly, one hand in his hair and the other arm coming around his shoulders, tethering him to you.

He’s the only thing keeping you here, in the present, not skittering off to somewhere safe inside your head.

You let him hold you there, pressed between him and the unyielding ground below you, channel all the rushing adrenaline into how you meet his fiery kisses, pressing your mouth hard back against his like it’s a battle, into how you roll your hips against his, thrilling at feeling him hard and ready for you. But for all the intensity, for the dizziness sweeping over you, neither of you rushes - you kiss for so long that your lips tingle, your core throbs, the night grows blacker, the thunder tiptoes closer.

You swipe your tongue over his familiar lips, whining in your throat when he opens for you again, welcomes you in, rocks against you and closes his eyes against the sting as you unconsciously tighten your fingers in his hair.

Then he breaks the kiss, pulls himself free of your grasp, nudges his nose to the underside of your jaw until you lean your head back, breathing hard, giving him room to attach teeth and lips to the skin of your neck.

He gathers a bit of skin and worries it between his teeth, muttering, “You won’t kill me. No one else can make you come undone like I do.”

The sound that tears out of you is half laugh and half desperate groan. “Prove it, then,” you goad, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling the edge towards you. He releases the spot on your neck long enough to let you pull the material over his head. Then he sits back on his knees between your legs and looks you over, one hand absently sliding down the front of his trousers, pressing relief into his waiting cock.

“Yours,” he says, tone steely. You find your own hem with shaking fingers. Distantly, there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the canopy of tree branches above you before plunging you into darkness again. You pull your top over your head and drop it next to his, leaning back on your elbows.

All thoughts of what you’re supposed to do here have left you; there’s only hands-shaking adrenaline and instinct driving you to give in to your desires and pursue what you want - Yoongi, Yoongi, more of Yoongi.

“Trousers, too,” Yoongi tells you, voice quiet. His fingers are on the string of his own trousers, but his eyes are on your exposed chest. Hungry.

You do as he says, untying your bottoms and pushing them away with your feet and waiting for his next move. The night isn’t cold, but you shiver. The forest, your forest, feels like a sanctuary, like it’s wrapping around the two of you and keeping you safe from everything outside. Like if you stayed in here, together, you might be safe from her after all.

But you know that’s a lie.

You push the thought away by coming up on your knees and approaching Yoongi, who’s still kneeling, too. You press your chest to him with a shudder as you reach to kiss him again. He gives a quiet, happy noise low in his throat and you answer with a hum as you lick into him again.

You slip a hand between your bodies and find him heavy and leaking. He presses into your touch with a nearly-silent keen that you manage to catch, and you trace your fingertips up his length, playing in the wetness you find waiting for you at the tip, then pulling that wetness down to the base again. You repeat the motion, touch featherlight, and listen to Yoongi’s breathing hitch and catch and sigh as he closes his eyes and enjoys it. He’s silky against your fingertips, skin like satin even here.

Yoongi trails kisses down your jaw, making a clear path towards your neck, and he skims a hand up your side and past your ribs, cupping one breast and rubbing his thumb roughly over your hardening nipple. You gasp, fingers twitching against his length, which spurs him on. He runs his knuckles lightly over the bud, then takes it gently between his thumb and forefinger, giving it an experimental roll. Your gasped ah turns into a liquid moan and he does it again, harder. You keen, a note of complaint in it, as he repeats the movement that is somehow both too much and not enough.

You wrap your hand fully around him, done teasing him with barely-there strokes, and roll your wrist once, twice, three times, his low grumbling reply music to your ears. He’s still mouthing at your neck and he switches hands, igniting sparks as he gently pinches the other nipple instead. Then he reaches and bumps your wrist out of his way as he cups your sex and spears you on his middle finger.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, rocking into his hand, trying to take the digit just a little deeper.

He must hear the desperation in your tone or sense it in the way you clench around his single finger, because he takes mercy on you and presses a second finger in beside the first. You sigh, still rocking against his hand, as he fucks into the spot in your front wall that makes your eyes drift closed and your toes curl up. You abandon his cock, bringing your hands to his shoulders, hanging on to keep yourself upright. When he presses his thumb against your clit you groan, loud and long, no one to hear you, and let your head fall back.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, plunging his fingers in and out of your wet heat. You can hear it each time he pushes them back in, the sound ringing in the silent woods, the only competition the approaching rolls of gentle thunder.

He works you up until you’re panting, your forehead dropping to rest against his collarbone, your hips in constant motion as you seek more. Your arms are looped around his neck, though you don’t remember starting to hold him, and your fingers find the ends of his long hair, tugging lightly in time with his motions. Occasionally his thumb circles your clit, causing your hips to jerk, but the angle stops him from keeping it constant. He pulls his hand away, and you take a bracing breath, coming back to your senses as the sensations fade.

He drops back from his knees, one arm behind his head as he lays back. He locks his eyes on yours as he strokes himself, his teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“Come on, then,” he prompts, his hand languid and lazy on his cock. Your body buzzes as you climb over him and sink down, letting him fill you, stretch you, break you into pieces. You ride him hard, one hand splayed on his flushed chest for balance, as around you the wind picks up, the leaves on the trees fluttering.

Yoongi’s eyes screw closed and his head tips back, even as his hands continue to guide your hips through each rise and fall.

You slow, savoring the drag against your walls, savoring his pretty skin beneath your fingers, savoring the grunts and hitched breaths he’s trying to hold back.

You could have loved Yoongi. In another life, where you had chips to bargain with. In a life where you fit into place within the village, where wild wasn’t as necessary to you as air. Even if the Queen had never called for Yoongi’s head - this life never meant for you to love him.

This is what you think about as you lightly rake your nails down his chest, watching him squirm beneath you. You think about all the times he’d been on the edge of saying it.

You think about all the times the feeling had risen up in you, as warm as a patch of sunlit floor, and you’d had to blow it away like an errant dandelion seed.

Maybe you do love him. You just can’t forget - not for a second - how little it matters.

The knife sits where you’d dropped it before undressing, just past Yoongi’s head.

You could probably reach it now.

Yoongi seems to sense the change in your motions and cracks an eye open, his fingers on your hips loosening.

His gaze follows yours. A flash of lightning makes the metal shine for a split second, and then you’re surrounded by the sudden patter of falling rain.

“Guess we better hurry,” Yoongi mutters, reaching up to grip the back of your neck and pulling you down so your chest is flush with his.

All thoughts leave your mind as he hammers into you from below - the knife is forgotten. Your feelings are forgotten. The rain, starting to muddy up the ground around you, forgotten.

You cum around him in silence, jaw clenched, fingers digging into his biceps. The groan he lets out as you squeeze around him in waves is drowned out by a growl of thunder that feels like it’s right above you, all around you.

Yoongi pumps into you with abandon, suddenly losing the rhythm he’d created. He gives two more shuddery thrusts and then lets his arms flop to the ground with a contented sigh.

For a second, you both lay there, sweat-slick and panting. Another lightning splits the sky, and the rain comes harder. He slides out of you and you wiggle until you’re laying just next to him instead of on top of him.

You can’t stop looking at him. He seems determined not to look at you.

The rain washes everything away - the smell of sex, your sweat, your affection, your sadness, your pride.

“My father,” he murmurs beneath you, and you go deathly still. “Yes, I knew.”

You swallow, brush rainwater from your brow. “So does the Queen,” you say back. An explanation, and an answer to the why he’d leveled at you an hour ago.

He nods slowly, expression clearing with understanding.

You feel no absolution for it.

Finally, he leans his head back again, his bangs flopping heavily now that they’re saturated with rainwater, and eyes the knife.

You sit up. He brings his eyes to you and watches silently - as if he accepts whatever move you make. As if, should you reach for the metal, he wouldn’t fight you this time.

“Go.” The word tumbles roughly onto the inch of mud between you. You don’t remember making the decision to say it.

He sits up, elbows and shoulders caked with mud. But all he does is watch you, wait for you to change your mind.

“Go,” you repeat, meaning it. Now that you’ve said it once, now that the decision was made, you know it’s the right one. “I’ll tell her it’s done.”

You could never kill him. You both knew it all along.

He dresses wordlessly, and you do the same, pulling your top back over your head and tying up your trouser string. When you look up, he’s standing in the rain, watching you.

You stoop and grab the knife he’d made you. You grip it tightly in your hand, refuse to meet his eyes.

He’s not challenging you, not questioning you - and that, in itself, feels like a slap.

“You can’t come back,” you say, as evenly as you can muster. When he just looks at you, infuriatingly silent, you add, “You can’t. Okay? If she - she can never know.”

“I know,” he says, and then he gives you a long, searching look. He’s drenched now, and your hands itch to push his set hair away from his face, to use your thumbs to chase raindrops - you think - away from his lashline.

Then, choked, he offers, “You could -”

“Don’t,” you bite out, stopping him before he can make you any kind of offer. You can’t. You can’t go with him. You can’t disappear into the night. Your brother is counting on you. You won’t let him pay for your sins.

Yoongi shakes his head. He takes another step closer. Your fingers tighten on the knife’s handle.

“Y/N, I -”

You raise the knife above your head in a flash, eyes going wide in fury.

“Fucking go!” you bark.

He holds up his hands, takes a few steps backwards, giving up his quest to make this harder than it needs to be. Lightning illuminates him and above your head, the blade shines for a split second before everything is cast into inky darkness again.

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, trees around you forming a shape again, he’s gone.

You don’t follow him, and you don’t return to your cabin. You sink to your knees in the mud, dropping the knife onto the ground, and sob into your hands, the noise swallowed by the flurry of rain and the intermittent cracks of thunder.

—

You sleep. You hunt. When the time comes, you bring your scores to the Queen atop your wagon.

She doesn’t ask you about Yoongi. You don’t offer her anything, just thank her for her grace routinely when she orders your purse to be filled.

You don’t stop at the tavern on the way back home. You don’t stop at any of the shops - not this time. You don’t trust yourself to act right if Yoongi’s disappearance gets brought up. You don’t trust that no one will do the math that he vanished four nights ago, and now you’re a hollowed shell who can’t form words.

The townspeople have seen you grieve before. They’d know what they were seeing.

The next trip is easier, and the one after that even more. The Queen never thanks you, not that you expected it, but you start finding an extra purse of coins in your wagon each time you return to it after bringing in your kills.

The price for your silence. The price for what she thinks you’ve done.

It hurts the most when your wagon passes the smithy, but you keep your eyes on the cobblestones and your hands on the reins and eventually the hurt fades along with the village as you get farther and farther away.

The seasons turn. The hurts fade. You send extra money to your brother. You sleep. You hunt.

Eventually, you stop waking up from nightmares that feature the glint of metal. You stop waking up trying desperately to cling to your dreams as fruitlessly as clinging to smoke, left with only damp places on your pillow and the memory of a low, throaty chuckle ringing in your ears.

Eventually, you can ride past the smithy without the pang in your chest. You can stop for a pint without watching the shadows for the appearance of a gummy smile. You can laugh when the bartender cracks a joke, can sound like yourself when you ask the baker’s daughter how she’s been faring.

It is after one of these trips, deep into color-saturated autumn, that you return to your cabin with wagon empty and purses full.

Something isn’t right. You freeze, casting your eyes around the forest, but it holds its secrets tight.

On the ground in front of your door, illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight, is a brand new, shining blade.

thank you so much for reading!!! i really really like this one and i hope you do too!! <3

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi angst #fairy tale au #fic: the price

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utterdisaster1 · 4 months ago

Text

The Teenage Foolishness

Pairing: Sirius Black x male!reader angst at certain point, kinda smut at another. If you haven't read the previous post/chapter whatever, Y/N is muggle-born

Hope you like it! TW: use of Y/N, internalised homophobia, pining, erotic thoughts, erotic things in general, AMAB! reader, swearing, mentions of war, mentions of toxic family

After the first year, the following two were not particularly remarkable. That is not to say that the days were mundane, or that nothing interesting ever happened; rather, you were immersed in a routine devoid of anything exceptional to distinguish it.

You and the rest of the Marauders—a nickname coined by Lily of all people - "Unbelievable! You cost us 50 points, and for what?! Marauding around the castle like vagabonds… I cannot comprehend what is so special or enjoyable about being as much of a nuisance as Peeves!" - continued to pursue your intention of making the most of your years at the school, pranking those who deserved it (mainly the Slytherins) and not taking life too seriously

At times, you felt that James and Sirius, in particular, went a little overboard in targeting a specific individual, but simultaneously, he gave as good as he got, so you did not see much issue with the clear rivalry between your group and Severus Snape.

You continued to learn, to excel, and to immerse yourself in magical education, relentless in your persuit of knowing everything.

In your third year, you began tutoring some first-years in Transfiguration and Charms. You also encountered your first struggle - Arithmancy.

You chose it alongside Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures as your electives, thinking it wouldn’t be too challenging.

You did enjoy the Creatures class the most and found Ancient Runes, which included lessons on enchanting objects, warding, and curse-breaking, truly fascinating. You were always eager for those classes.

But Arithmancy… You thought it would simply be wizarding maths, but it was far from that. You barely scraped by in it and fully intended to drop it before fifth year. Spell-crafting be damned; if you had to read one more paragraph on the properties of numbers and shapes, you felt like you might spontaneously combust. And preparing for an OWL in it… that would be unbearable.

Another struggle that began in third year was dealing with feelings. Suddenly, you started experiencing peculiar emotions. Of course, there had been boys who caught your eye before, but it had never been significant. However, the affections you might have had, or not, seemed to grow in intensity.

Suddenly, instead of a mere sense of admiration, a deep longing emerged. You would catch yourself imagining how delightful it would be to walk hand in hand with them, to embrace them, to kiss them, to…

Even with the knowledge that your proclivities were not frowned upon in the wizarding world, the years you spent before joining it had conditioned you to feel guilt and denial. It felt as though you were being pushed by shame from one side and encouragement from the other, leaving no space for action.

So you suppressed those feelings, turning to those shameful late-night moments in which you inflicted some self-pleasure upon yourself.

You felt guilty thinking about schoolmates that way. The only comfort was that it usually wasn’t someone you were particularly close with, so objectifying them wasn’t thrown in your face the next morning.

Then the fifth year arrived, and with it, a very changed, taller, better-built Sirius.

He said he had spent most of his summer at his uncle Alphard's house, which had a Quidditch pitch nearby, allowing him to fly and work out every day. Training for his Beater position on the Quidditch team involved a lot of work from his arm and chest muscles.

And what a sight those muscles were, when he took his outer robe off, leaving only a thin dress shirt on. They were enthralling to watch, and it took you greater effort than fighting any duel, facing any Slytherin, or preparing for any exam to avert your gaze elsewhere.

It didn't help that he paid particular attention to you. There was something in his gaze that made you want to squirm.

It's worth mentioning you changed over the summer too. You barely had to lift your head now to look your dad straight in the eyes (which came with your mum droning on about needing to buy an entirely new wardrobe for you since all your clothes were too short). Your face became thinner, and your jawline more pronounced. You would often run, not from schoolmates, but for the simple release of pent-up energy from being deprived of magic (you would curse whoever it was that created the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, if they were still alive) and worrying about a possible raid from Death Eaters all summer.

You did try to act casual. But you were also 16. And suddenly, when the night came, the only thoughts you had, were of him.

His nature didn't help either. He was always affectionate with touch - an arm around your shoulder when walking together, his head always resting on someone's lap while relaxing on the couches in the Gryffindor common room. He did that with all of his friends.

So it meant he did it with you as well. In those moments, you begged to be back in the Arithmancy classroom, listening to lectures about numerological transcendence or whatever else you couldn't grasp, because it would still be easier than withstanding the force of Sirius Black's friendly affection. Friendly.

You always made sure to keep the outer robes on, so you could cover your crotch and the erection that occured whenever he tugged you closer to him or rested his head on your arm.

After one very close call, when he laid his head on your lap, you realised it had become essential never to sit next to him again. Not as long as you felt the way you did. It didn't help that the thoughts of his mouth so close to that particular area contributed to your unseemly activities later that evening and were followed by a sense of shame when you saw him the next morning while preparing to go down for breakfast.

And even if you told yourself that you were dealing with this insufferable infatuation, you couldn't help but feel jealous of the people who sparked Sirius' interest. You weren't the only person who had noticed how he had changed over the summer, after all.

It seemed every other week there would be a new girl clutching onto him like a lifeline. And considering the affection he showed his friends, you shouldn't have been surprised by how flagrant he was with them.

The shameless make-out sessions, blatant touching, and disgusting displays like feeding each other were hard to ignore. But over time, you got used to it. You didn't accept it, but it was just something that happened, yet another flaw in the world. It still was better than the fact that there was an actual war happening outside the school halls, a war against people like you, or rather, about ridding the world of people like you.

But then, one day, Sirius showed up for lunch with a boy. A Ravenclaw, one year above you. All of you were confused. And confusion turned into many different emotions when the ministrations that Sirius' girlfriends received were extended to him.

If you felt uneasy before, now you were actually physically sick. You wanted to vomit, to break something, or rather someone.

Ironically, one of the few comforts you had in the entire situation was knowing that if you never stood a chance with him, it wasn't because of your appearance or any other personal attribute, but simply because he was exclusively into girls. This made it easier to avoid letting yourself fantasise about being with him. At that point, however, the reality stung more sharply—knowing that he chooses not to have an interest in you, despite being open to it. It just made it all more painful.

So you quickly excused yourself and exited the Hall. You didn't run and cry, thinking about jumping off the astronomy tower like some heartsick, stupid people would do. You weren't sad. You were angry. Furious. Livid. Violent.

You hadn't noticed Remus going after you, all the way to the Forbidden Forest. You hadn't noticed him as you were throwing all known curses and hexes at a large pile of rocks, annihilating it in the process.

But after you were done, and decided to go back, there he stood. With this look of pity. Maybe you weren't as subtle as you thought, or maybe it was him being his usual, too perceptive self.

"I would say that it gets better, but I'm not going to start lying to you," he said.

"Are you- Do you- You too? With Sirius, I mean," you replied.

"Merlin no!" and after a short pause, "Well, maybe a little last year. But it went out the window after he insulted Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, massive turn-off," he said, the last part with a scoff, "And I'm more partial to the fair sex, being honest with you."

"How long have you known?" you asked.

"You know how my senses are heightened? Due to- you know. Well, some stronger emotions have the slightest scents that I can detect. They don't really compare to any normal ones… well, the technicalities don't really matter. Arousal is one of those scents, and I smelled it off of you while you were looking at him in the distance once or twice."

"Well, thank you for not calling me out on it," you said with the slightest of smiles. At that point, you also had to ask, because you knew it would nag you forever, "So if you can actually smell emotions, that means that things like…" You didn't exactly know how to ask whether he could smell you wank in the night, so you just made a gesture. He didn't seem unsettled by your question, to his credit.

"Oh, yeah, at first it was quite uncomfortable, but you weren't the first one to do it... Sirius was always hyper and he is the oldest, I suppose," he said, then continued, "I learned a spell to shield my bed from all smells in Second Year, but I forget to cast it sometimes," he said while rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Well, I've never felt more sorry for you, especially with Peter's dirty socks..." you said.

“Yes, well, it comes with living with four other teenage boys. But I’m the one who’s supposed to comfort you right now, not the other way around,” he said with a small laugh.

“You did say it wouldn’t just get better, as if from experience… Who were you that angry about? You, the calmest, most reasonable and even-tempered Gryffindor in history.”

“There was one particular girl that Sirius had dated about a month ago, and now even if I did try to ask her out, I’d be asking Sirius’ ex out. It did irk me, knowing he would drop her after a week or so anyway.”

“A shame you hadn’t told me; then we could wallow in self-pity together,” you chuckled a little. Maybe Freud was onto something with his “just talk about it and it will get better.” Although, you were also quite tired, so maybe there was simply no energy for anger at the moment.

“Do you want to smash some things too? I could conjure more rocks if you’d like,” you asked.

He smiled. “No, but I will tell you if I do. Let’s head back; I think we’re already late for Potions.”

You groaned. “Fuck Potions, we’re both rubbish at it anyway. Besides, I don’t know if I have it in me not to throw some beetle eyes or something equally disgusting at him right now.” You said this as you started walking back towards the castle.

“I am a prefect, you know,” Remus replied.

“Oh? So I suppose it wasn’t you who turned Mulciber’s hair into snakes yesterday?” you responded with a small chuckle.

He just huffed but didn’t rebut.

______________________________________________________________

What you and Remus failed to talk about and consider were appearances. There was nothing out of the ordinary with Remus’, but you, however, looked as if you’d just emerged from a fighting ring - messy hair, ruffled clothes, and scratches from the rock shards that you hadn’t even registered.

After worried questions stemming from a calm, “What happened?” from Peter, to James’ intense, “Did someone do this to you?! Tell. Me. Who!” you just said you’d fallen down the stairs, and Remus had taken you to the infirmary, which explained your absence during Potions class. And since it was just a theory lesson, you doubted Slughorn noticed or cared much.

The rest of the day, after fixing yourself up in the bathroom, you tried to act as usual. And it mostly worked. But, as seemed to be the pattern of the day, Sirius disrupted your attempts at casualness. It wasn’t his fault per se, since you always sat together in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Normally, you would chat and joke, having already mastered the subject. But today, you didn’t even want to see him, let alone talk to him.

Sirius wasn’t stupid, nor as self-conceited as some believed. He noticed the lack of banter and witty responses from you and asked, “Are you okay? You seem a little off today.”

Clearly he didn’t connect the dots that your being "a little off" might be related to your supposed fall down the stairs. His mind was probably preoccupied with that Ravenclaw arsewipe he had shown up with, making it clear he was bi.

So you simply responded, “I’m fine,” and started taking notes. This really set Sirius off, because you never did that in Defence class. By Fourth Year, you had enough knowledge and skill to score an Outstanding in NEWT for the subject. You had even ventured into Knockturn Alley to buy books on martial magic, most containing curses only found in the restricted section of the school library. He knew why you were so determined to master this area of magic. With raids, disappearances, and murders reported every other day, who wouldn’t be?

Sirius thought that maybe something else had happened other than the fall, but what could it be? No one dared to challenge you to a duel or sneak up on you after you sent the youngest Yaxley brother to the infirmary with so many afflictions and injuries he didn’t get out until a week later (you only got three nights of detention since it was technically self-defence after he tried to use the body-bind curse on you from behind first. The Gryffindor privilege probably played a part in that as well). You didn’t seem to be under a side-effect of pain medicine either.

He only realized the lesson was over because of your abrupt departure the moment the bell rang.

But there was someone with you when whatever happened had occurred - Remus. He had the answers, and Sirius was adamant about finding out the truth. But when he turned towards the desk Remus sat at, it was empty as well.

Suspicious.

Both of you disappearing halfway through the day and then coming back disheveled with a very convenient story... Could you...? Together?

Now, with his mind racing, Sirius reached the only plausible conclusion: it became clear he was into guys too, and one of you must have gotten jealous, so you sorted it out. The idea that Remus could have been the one to be with you like that, while Sirius was left out, sparked something he never wanted to feel about any of his friends - jealousy.

He loved Moony, don't get him wrong. But it was you and him that always had a little stack of letters after the holidays for each other, since neither could send them during the summer. "Merlin! I didn't know we had some summer essays set to write. What will we do, Pete?" James would always laugh. It was you and him that hated going away from Hogwarts because the castle was where you truly felt at home. It was you and him that sat together by the Black Lake in you spot, sharing those quiet moments that seemed to stretch into forever.

Why wouldn't you consider him for something more, then? He wasn't a saint, he knew that. But he also had access to mirrors, and he was a friend as long as Moony was.

And he had to admit, when he saw you on the train in September, desire surged through him. But you never seemed to look at him too long, let alone show any sign of actual interest. So he tried what he had seen work on those desperate girls and used all the tricks he had. But those attempts only seemed to turn you off, making you retreat from him. He recalled that evening when he laid his head on your lap, asking you to braid or play with his hair, and instead of blushing and giggling like those girls did, you immediately needed to get back to the dorm, claiming there was "a book you forgot to return to the library, and you better run before Madam Pince closes it" or some other excuse. After that, you avoided sitting next to him, except for during class.

When he saw you could defend yourself from the baby death eaters - commonly known as Slytherins - he stopped pretending not to associate with you. He was openly best friends with a "blood traitor," which, in his parents' eyes, was as bad as being a "filthy little Mudblood." So, he would get punished anyway.

He cherished the surprise on your face when he sat next to you at the Sorting Ceremony, the delight in your eyes when you realised he wasn’t playing the charade he had in First Year.

He was always honest with you. He never felt it important to discuss his sexuality, especially since you never mentioned yours. He assumed you shared his sentiment. But now it was clear that you had discussed it with someone - just not him. Maybe you and Remus had a special spot as well? Or maybe, the spot by the lake was only special to Sirius, and you came there only when dear Remus was too busy, or worse, out of pity, because Sirius would sit there sometimes, hoping you would appear.

He hated that feeling. You were his friends. He shouldn't be mad at you two being close, being together. But he was. He was angry with you, and he was even more furious with himself.

Maybe if he just mellowed down his advances, you would start to show similiar affection towards him as well? Or maybe you did feel it, but was just awkward about it and he hadn't noticed?

And then there were the flings.

So on one hand, you might be plainly uninterested, wanting nothing more than friendship. On the other, you might have been interested, but he had ruined it.

He had ruined it all, just as he always seemed to. His mother had often said so. His father, his br- Regulus, never disagreed.

He didn't ever realise he was now alone, with tears glistening in his eyes, heading towards nowhere in particular

______________________________________________________________

The rest of the week was tense for the Marauders. Sirius retreated as he had after his first Howler back in First Year. Fortunately, this time he already had James. Pete stuck by him too, offering snacks in the evenings and welcome distractions. Both of them knew Peter didn’t need help with Herbology, yet he asked Sirius for it, for example.

Not that you and Remus were there to witness most of these moments. You were cooped up in the library, sometimes together with Lily, Marlene, and Mary.

You didn’t know if it was just instinct or if you were that easy to read, but the three girls took to comforting you as well. Your study sessions continued with the addition of Lily’s dormmates, which made things much more fun, but also much riskier, since Madam Pince didn’t take kindly to any disturbances of silence, and snickering was very much a disturbance.

One evening, Marlene said that when she was sad she did her first piercing by herself. She mentioned it off-handedly, while being scolded by Lily and Mary for getting her nose infected - that attempt was not as successful as the first one “or numerous following ones!” Marlene didn’t fail to add.

So, when you were returning to the common room, you asked her which piercing wasn’t too painful and if she would be willing to do it for you. She eagerly agreed, recommending helix piercings since earlobes were “too obvious.”

And as much as it wasn’t the most pleasant experience, it wasn’t too bad either. You settled for piercings in each ear. Marlene said it was fate, since the Hogsmeade trip would be happening in two days. You would be able to buy your own jewellery, wearing hers for now.

You were barely the first person to have some alterations to their appearance done, so it didn’t gain much attention from most, only your friends, who you didn’t have many of, especially since three of your dormmates seemed engrossed with something they were sharing with neither you nor Remus. Even Mary said you looked "dashing", and with her being one of the icons (Marlene had called her a guru) of style by that point, you knew it really meant something.

You saw the dark circles under Sirius’ eyes, as well as how puffy they were. You wanted to comfort him, truly you did. He was your friend, first and foremost. But now, it seemed he was avoiding you. You thought of cornering him somehow but thought better of it. One can’t make Sirius Black do or say anything he doesn’t want to do. And he did not take kindly to attempts at trying.

So, you left him be and didn’t address any of the occasional looks you got from him with anything else but, what you hoped was, a comforting smile.

The trip to Hogsmeade was as eventful as any other, but with you not only buying earrings but some rings as well. You made sure none were made of silver, mindful of Moony.

The Sunday, however, proved to be something entirely else. You were planning on writing the Potions essay and reading the latest issue of Transfiguration Today. You hoped there would be at least something more than a mere mention of the Animagus process, having found only some sparse remarks on it in the books you’d read in the library so far.

There was always the Restricted Section, but you needed the Cloak for that, and James was always with Sirius.

And as much of a pain as it was to write about the Draught of Peace, it was one of the possible potions to brew for your OWL exam, and you needed one in Potions, no matter how much you loathed the idea of studying the subject at NEWT level. But you needed the NEWT to be allowed into the Auror Training, and complaining would get you nowhere.

But when you were finally done and reached for the magazine on your nightstand, the dorm room burst open, and in came James, Peter, and Sirius. And they came with purpose.

“Right, we’re going to settle this. You,” James pointed at you and Sirius, “will stay in this room until you’re okay again. I will let you starve to death if I have to.” And with that, he came out, locking the door.

You looked at Sirius and didn’t know what else to say but, “Always with dramatics, that one.”

Sirius didn’t respond at first, just looked at you for some time. You avoided his stare, which clearly was the wrong thing to do, seeing what he asked you next.

“Why can’t you even look at me?” he said in a tone much more broken than Sirius should sound like. You had only witnessed a few times over the five years you’d known each other. So you did look at him, straight in the eyes, and responded.

“Of course I can look at you.” You really didn’t know how to handle this. You didn’t even know what exactly it was about.

“Since we returned in September, you don’t want to, though,” after a short pause, he asked, “We’re friends, right? Friends tell each other things.”

“Of course we’re friends. Why would you question that?” you said immediately.

He looked at you, intensely, expectantly. But you really didn’t know what he could want you to say. There was no way he knew about your crush, right?

Seeing that he wasn’t going to receive what he had hoped for, he said with a clipped tone, “Then why didn’t you tell me about you and Remus? Or James and Pete, for that matter?”

Now you were really bewildered. You wanted to ask what he meant, but he clearly wasn’t finished.

“I bet you told Marls and the other two, though, always hanging around with each other now. I mean, I could understand if you’d just started and were figuring things out, but once you’re having sex, I think it’s serious enough to mention it to people you claim are your family!” he finished, shouting.

“What do you- Are- Sex!? With who!?”

“Well, Moony of course, unless you were doing it with Marlene in the third-floor bathroom on Thursday too!”

"For fuck's sake, have you taken something!? Or is this some very elaborate prank!?" You didn’t allow him to respond just yet. "I’m not having sex with anyone, I’m not in a relationship with anyone, Marlene only pierced my ears," you said, pointing at your ears. "And I really don’t think that Remus fetching me from the Forbidden Forest is that significant to mention!"

Sirius seemed surprised. You rarely screamed or shouted, preferring to just hex someone if they were going too far. Of all the questions now flooding his mind, he asked,

"What were you doing in the Forbidden Forest?"

"I was smashing up some rocks, if it’s that important to you. And I left the centaurs one of the phoenix feathers I found last year in the Astronomy Tower, along with a very sincere apology letter the next day, so I doubt they’ll want to hunt me down. It was only a pile of rocks anyway; I made sure not to harm any trees or animals."

"Why?"

"You know centaurs are the ones that planted and protect the forest. They demand respect. I doubt me coming in all unreasonable and entitled to destroy parts of it, even as irrelevant as a pile of-" At that, he interrupted you.

"I don’t care about the centaurs! Why were you wrecking rocks, and if that’s what happened on Monday, why are you cross with me?"

"I— I’m not cross with you, and it doesn’t matter why. It’s stupid, and I’m dealing with it."

"Maybe I could help, you know. Or at least you could have told me."

You were getting sick of his apparent entitlement to all your issues and that, mixed with still not fully gone anger at him over the Ravenclaw, prompted you to say with a clipped tone, "Well, you seem pretty preoccupied these days. I wouldn’t want to get groped by accident."

His eyes widened, cheeks reddened, and his mouth opened and closed in a repeated cycle. He was visibly thinking about what to say next.

"Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Seeing me with those girls?"

You barely even registered saying, "You forgot the Ravenclaw already?"

At that you saw a hint of a smirk on his face, but what was more noticeable was the step he took towards you. "Did it bother you? Seeing me like that?"

Oh, you definitely didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. So you quickly tried to escape the looming vision of actually confessing your feelings to him.

"Who wouldn’t be bothered? People do go to that Hall to eat their food. You and whoever else was your conquest of the week were trying to eat each other."

He only inched closer. "No one else was demolishing the forest because of that, though, were they?"

You faltered. You were losing this argument, and you’d have to go past Sirius to reach your wand, which you had inconveniently left on the bed.

"You know, a lot of things just started to make sense to me..." He was almost within touching distance.

"Well, enlighten me then," you said, hoping your tone was more confident than you felt.

"The way you distanced yourself, wouldn’t look at me too long... I thought I might have done something bad or wrong, but now I’m realising," and after a pause, in a much huskier tone, "I actually might have done the opposite."

He did touch you now, caressing your arm. "I’m going to ask you something, Y/N, and I need you to be honest." The hand went from your arm to your chin, directing your head to look him in the face. You hadn’t realised you had been looking just past his shoulder for most of that monologue.

The only thing you did realise, was that Sirius was tall.

"If I kissed you right now, would you return it?"

You were overwhelmed. And, more importantly, starting to get hard. No.

But apparently, your subconscious decided to answer for you, and you nodded.

Sirius didn’t wait a second. He leaned in, practically attacking your mouth.

The kiss was rough, with teeth clashing at first. You supposed it was probably clumsy, but you didn’t have anything to compare it with.

You tried to mimic what Sirius was doing, and in a moment of daring (you were still a Gryffindor, after all), you bit his lower lip, eliciting a low groan from Sirius.

You usually learned best through practice, and kissing apparently wasn’t an exception. You became more confident with each second his lips moved with yours, and when you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, you instinctively opened your mouth.

The tongue slipped in immediately, accompanied by a satisfied hum from Sirius. It was strange, the sensation of it in your mouth at first, against your own. But you quickly found yourself enjoying it, and the fact that his hands were now firmly on your waist, running up and down, certainly didn’t discourage you.

For someone who detested the very thought of being overpowered, you surprisingly enjoyed Sirius’ dominant position right now.

You rested your arms on his shoulders and started running your right hand through the hair on the back of his head, eliciting another groan, of satisfaction, you hoped.

You began to move your tongue along with his, and sooner than you realised, it became a battle. You were growing more and more eager to explore his mouth as well.

The fact that you were currently making out with your long-term crush was not lost on you, nor did it fail to make you even more aroused with each passing second. You had imagined a moment like this many times. In fact, you had imagined many other moments, and seeing how physical Sirius was, there was a big chance of them turning into memories or maybe, if you dared to think, regular occurrences.

In fact, you wouldn’t settle for anything less. You were not interested in becoming one of many in the long line of Sirius Black’s dalliances, as Remus liked to say sometimes.

And so, with great effort - both in actually willing yourself to do it, as well as managing against Sirius’ strength - you pulled away.

His eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated, but a brow started to rise in question.

"I’m not ruining our friendship for a week of fun with you, Sirius," you said, still breathless, but it was clear you were being frank right now.

"I’m not either," he responded. "I want it to be more," he said.

"What are you saying?" you asked with a smirk, knowing very well what, but still wanting to hear it.

He rolled his eyes playfully. "And you complained about James’ flair for dramatics," he said, and immediately dropped to one knee and took your hand. "Y/N L/N, will you, the breathtaking vision of enchanting beauty, the enthralling light of brilliance, do me the honour of allowing me to become your partner in love and life?" he asked in an over-dramatic tone.

You laughed and said in the same manner, "Sirius Black, your words have melted my heart completely. I’d be thrilled to become your boyfriend."

He pretended to cry, followed by a quite amusing spectacle of pretending to die out of sheer joy, and then stood up, held you to him, and kissed you again, this time more tenderly. This kiss didn’t seem desperate but wasn’t chaste in any way either. You pulled him closer by his shirt, having your chests press together. He seemed very satisfied with it.

He was starting to pull your sweater off when the doors burst open with James in the front yet again, this time shrieking. Remus, who apparently joined him and Peter in the common room during your time alone with Sirius, said, "Turns out you were right, they were suffocating each other... Not in the way you predicted though," he added with a low chuckle.

Peter’s face was as red as a beet, and James just stared. After a while, he said, "I call you both my brothers, so it’s incest, you know. I’ll tell my mum."

"You’re just worried I’ll cut into your cuddle time with him," you said to James, receiving a laugh from Remus and a smirk from Sirius that contradicted his severe tone.

"He could never cut into that, Jamie, you don’t have to worry."

James decided to just shove him with a laugh as a response.

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