#and so its seen as if you take a woman and make her a wife and/or a mother you rob her of her individuality and limit her

[cogentranting]

A book I read earlier this year made a claim that "motherhood is discussed in fewer than 3 per cent of papers, journal articles or textbooks on modern gender theory" and I wasn't able to verify their statistic but that idea sat with me (and certainly experientially the idea that modern feminism and gender theory drastically undervalue motherhood feels accurate) and so when I heard an old comment from an actress about being tired of playing wives and mothers it had a different ring to it. And I think that A. the problem isn't portraying wives and mothers it's a shallow conception of what those things are and B. maybe we need not less wives and mothers but more husbands and fathers and C. Once Upon a Time was doing something really right with Emma Swan.

[pucksandpower]

Clickbait

Toto Wolff x Ferrari team principal!Reader

Summary: in which a reporter learns not to mess with the power couple of Formula 1 … the hard way

Based on this request

The bustling newsroom of BusinessF1 magazine hums with activity as Graham Lowell, a junior reporter with more ambition than scruples, hunches over his laptop. His fingers fly across the keyboard, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he types out what he believes to be the scoop of the century.

Conflict of Interest in the Pit Lane: Ferrari and Mercedes’ Love Affair

Graham leans back, admiring his handiwork. He’s certain this article will catapult him to journalism stardom. Little does he know, he’s about to learn a harsh lesson in the dangers of sensationalism.

As the article goes live, the Formula 1 world erupts into chaos. Social media platforms light up with speculation and outrage. Within hours, the story spreads like wildfire, reaching the very subjects of its scandalous claims.

In the Ferrari motorhome, you stand before a group of wide-eyed team members, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “I assure you, these allegations are completely false. Our team’s integrity is not, and will never be, compromised.”

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, but you ignore it. You know who it is, and you know you’ll need to face him soon enough.

Across the paddock, in the sleek confines of the Mercedes garage, Toto Wolff paces like a caged lion. His usually calm demeanor is nowhere to be seen as he barks orders into his phone.

“I want our legal team on this immediately,” he growls. “This is slander, pure and simple. They’ve gone too far this time.”

As the day wears on, the pressure mounts. You find yourself fielding increasingly hostile questions from reporters, their microphones thrust aggressively in your face.

“Is it true that you’ve been passing Ferrari’s secrets to Mercedes?” One shouts.

“How long have you been manipulating race results?” Another demands.

You maintain your composure, but inside, you’re seething. The blatant sexism in their questions is not lost on you. They seem all too eager to believe that a woman in your position must have achieved it through nefarious means.

As you push through the crowd, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos. “That’s enough!” Toto’s commanding tone silences the mob instantly. He strides forward, placing a protective arm around your shoulders.

“My wife and I will be making a statement shortly,” he announces, his steely gaze daring anyone to object. “Until then, I suggest you all refrain from spreading baseless rumors.”

The crowd parts reluctantly, allowing you both to escape to the relative quiet of a nearby hospitality suite. As soon as the door closes behind you, Toto’s fierce expression melts into one of concern.

“Are you alright, liebling?” He asks softly, cupping your face in his hands.

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability. “I’m fine, Toto. Just ... frustrated. They’re so quick to believe the worst of me.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “It’s disgraceful. But we’ll fight this, together. I promise you, they won’t get away with it.”

A knock at the door interrupts your moment. Toto’s assistant pokes her head in. “Sir, the lawyers are here.”

What follows is a whirlwind of legal jargon and strategy discussions. You listen intently as your shared legal team outlines the plan of attack.

“We’ll issue cease and desist orders to every outlet that’s republished the story,” the head lawyer explains. “And we’ll be filing a defamation lawsuit against BusinessF1 magazine and the reporter responsible.”

Toto nods approvingly. “Good. I want them to feel the full force of our response. This ends now.”

As the lawyers file out, you turn to Toto, a hint of worry in your eyes. “Do you think this will be enough? The damage to my reputation ...”

Toto takes your hands in his, his gaze intense. “We will rebuild it, stronger than ever. I won’t let them tarnish everything you’ve worked for.”

Meanwhile, back at the BusinessF1 office, Graham Lowell is beginning to realize the gravity of his mistake. His editor storms into the bullpen, face red with fury.

“Lowell!” He bellows. “My office, now!”

Graham follows meekly, his earlier bravado evaporating with each step. As he enters the office, he sees his editor isn’t alone. A grim-faced man in an expensive suit stands by the window.

“Sit down,” the editor growls. Graham complies, his legs feeling like jelly.

The man by the window turns, fixing Graham with a steely glare. “Mr. Lowell, I’m representing Mr. and Mrs. Wolff in this matter. I’m here to inform you that you and this publication are being sued for defamation.”

Graham’s mouth goes dry. “But ... but I had a source! They told me-”

“A source you failed to verify,” his editor cuts in. “Did you even attempt to get a comment from either party before publishing?”

Graham’s silence is damning. The lawyer continues, his voice cold and precise. “The damages we’re seeking are substantial. Your reckless journalism has caused significant harm to my clients’ reputations.”

As the full implications of his actions sink in, Graham slumps in his chair. His dreams of journalistic glory crumble before his eyes, replaced by the stark reality of legal consequences.

Outside, the F1 paddock buzzes with new excitement. Word of the impending lawsuit spreads quickly, and suddenly, those who were so quick to believe the scandal are backpedaling furiously.

You and Toto stand united before a sea of cameras, your hands clasped tightly together. Toto speaks first, his voice resonating with controlled anger.

“The allegations made against my wife and me are not only false but malicious,” he states. “We have always maintained the highest standards of professionalism and integrity in our respective roles.”

You step forward, your head held high. “I’ve worked tirelessly to earn my position as Team Principal at Scuderia Ferrari. To suggest that my success is due to anything other than my own merit is not only insulting to me but to every woman fighting to make her mark in this sport.”

The press conference continues, with you and Toto presenting a united front against the baseless accusations. As you field questions, you can see the tide of public opinion beginning to turn.

Later that evening, in the privacy of your hotel suite, you finally allow yourself to relax. Toto wraps you in a warm embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You were magnificent today,” he murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.”

You smile up at him, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

Toto chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “The best. Although, I must say, I’m almost disappointed we don’t actually have any juicy secrets to share. It might make things more exciting.”

You playfully swat his arm, laughing despite yourself. “I think we have enough excitement in our lives, thank you very much.”

As you settle into each other’s arms, you know that whatever challenges come your way, you’ll face them together. The storm may rage outside, but in here, in this moment, all is calm.

And somewhere across the continent, in a small, cluttered apartment, Graham Lowell stares at his laptop screen, watching his career and reputation crumble in real-time.

Social media is ablaze with backlash against him and support for you and Toto. As he scrolls through the endless comments condemning his shoddy journalism, one thought echoes in his mind.

“I am so, so screwed.”

[yandere-writer-momo]

No one asked but I’ve decided to post one of my favorite original smut works!

Yandere Short Story: Insatiable

Yandere monster x Afab reader x Yandere ex fiancé

Minors DNI

8.4k words

 “Cedric?” A tall, dark haired man glanced up from his paper work to see his small wife at the door. His red eyes gazing at her coldly. “Oh, sorry… my lord. You didn’t reply to any of my letters so I decided to come see you myself. I was wondering if you had time to-“

    “I’m busy with work. How about you go take a walk or something seeing that you’re not busy with anything.” Cedric replied coldly, causing the young woman to glance sadly at her hands.

    “Oh… I’m sorry-“

    “Stop with your needless apologies and shut my door. You’re letting the cold air in.” Cedric hissed before returning to his mountain of paper work.

    “Good bye, my lord.” (Your name) softly whispered, a sad look in her eye. The young woman shutting the door before looking at the small, cloth bag beside her. Its contents being one change of clothes, a pouch of water, and some bread.

    (Your name) had finally decided to leave him. Her feelings for him had gradually disappeared over the years of being engaged to him seeing that he couldn’t even return a fraction of what she felt for him. It was time for her  to leave this loveless, joyless place and to go live as a commoner. Hopefully Cedric would eventually read the letter she had sent him a few days ago about annulling their marriage.

    The young woman pulled her tattered cloak over her head, making her way down the manor’s steps with ease.

   Not a single servant paying her any mind. A smile made its way to her lips at the thought of finally no longer having to sit in her cold room up in the tower. How she’d be able to travel wherever she wanted and maybe she’d even find someone to love her eventually. How she could finally have friends that didn’t need her husband to pay them to talk to her.

     (Your name) soon stood outside the gloomy palace, a smile on her lips. The young woman giving the palace one last look before she headed into the forest.

     “Good bye. I won’t miss you.”  She then headed into the dark silent forest. Set on leaving the Southern empire forever.

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. 

    “This tea is bland and terrible.” Cedric complained to his maid who began to sweat nervously. “Why isn’t it here on its usual time and why isn’t it its normal flavor?”

    “Ah… the duchess usually takes care of that…” the maid replied before giving the lord a bow. “None of us have seen her in awhile so we had to brew some older leaves.”

    Cedric sighed before rising from his chair, causing the maid to gulp at how large he was.

    “That stupid woman. I’ll go see what she’s up to now then I guess.” Cedric made his way towards the east end of the manor, climbing up the flight of stairs to (your name)’s room. 

    A frown forming on his face when he didn’t see a single servant on this side of the manor. Where were all the servants? Shouldn’t she have some around here to clean it?

    Cedric stood before the door at the top of the tower. His hand pressing against the old wood. A frown on his face.

    “My lady. Can you open the door?” No response.

   “My lady?” Cedric pressed his knuckle against the door, causing the door to squeal open. Red eyes widening in shock at the tattered blanket that sat on top of a pile of hay. This couldn’t be her room…

   Where was her bed? Her dresses? Cedric burst into the room examining everything in disbelief. 

    “Can I lay with you, Cedric? It’s starting to get cold?” 

    Cedric frowned at the memory. (Your name) really was cold wasn’t she? And he always turned her away…

  A small desk with letters littering the top of it caught his attention. Was this the only thing she had in her room? As a duchess, she only had this small desk? 

    Red eyes narrowed at all the letters that were dated and addressed to him. Cedric quickly opened one of the older letters his eyes softening at its contents.

     ‘I finally was able to get the maids to teach me how to make that chamomile tea you like so much. I hope we’ll be able to drink it together someday. When you’re not busy of course. I love you, Cedric.’

    Cedric opened another letter, a dried sprig of baby’s breath falling out of the envelop. His pale fingers picking it up with utmost care. Red eyes scanning over the delicate hand writing.

    ‘Did you know baby’s breath means everlasting love? Isn’t that neat? I hope that our love is ever lasting as well. I’d like to go on a picnic with you while it’s still spring. If you’re not busy of course. I love you, Cedric.’

    ‘Today, I saw a pair of swans in the pond in the garden. Did you know swans stay together for life? I read that in a book in the library. I thought it was pretty neat. Maybe it’s childish of me to think that way, but I hope we’ll be like that. I love you, Cedric.’

    Cedric continued to tear apart the letters with fervor. Sweat dripping down his neck as his hands began to shake. All of these letters and he’s never read any of them from her… he always returned them back to her… always ignored her… he was starting to get scared…

     ‘It’s getting colder up in the tower but the maids took my bed. They said they’re freezing too. Is there anyway I could also have some new blankets. I hope that’s not too much of a bother for you. Thank you. I love you, Cedric.’

   ‘I’ve been sleeping in the library over the winter. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your work. I heard there’s a ball upcoming in the neighboring empire. I’ve never been to a ball before. Is there anyway we could go? I’d really like a new dress. The one I had all these years is starting to get a little loose since we’re so scarce on food. Thank you. I love you, Cedric.’

    There was no scarcity in food. Who on earth hadn’t the servants been feeding her? Who took her bed? Her blankets?

     Cedric sorted through the letters until the last one stuck out to him.

   His pale hand opened the letter, his eyes widening in shock. She had filled out divorce papers… why would she do that?

     ‘I don’t think you’re ever going to read this until you’ve realized I left. But I want a divorce. I can’t live like this. It’s so cold and miserable here. No one talks to me here. I found out that the only acquaintance I had here, you were paying to talk to me so I wouldn’t bother you… and I was really hurt by that. If I’m really that awful to be with, I’ll go. I just want you to be happy, Cedric. Even if it’s not with me. So good bye, Cedric. If you try to have a conversation with me in a few days I may reconsider but if not, you’ll find this then. I’ll probably be halfway through the forest by then. Good bye, Cedric.’

    Cedric began to shake. She had stopped by his office and he had turned her away… he unknowingly sent her away… he sent his loving wife away in the wild… wait.

     Didn’t she know the forest was infested with monsters?

     “Guards! Hurry. Send a search party to the forest, now!” Cedric threw the letter to the side, screaming on the top of his lungs. His legs running as fast as he could down the steps and through the palace.

     The guards rising up in shock before quickly springing into action.  

     “The duchess has gone missing! She could be in danger!” Cedric shouted, the Duke running to grab his sword and horse. “We have to find her by all means necessary!”

    Cedric frowned as he glanced at the dark forest. His eyebrows furrowed in worry. He prayed she was safe. He was so lucky he noticed her absence in just a day…

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. 

    (Your name) hummed as she walked through the forest without a care in the world. So far, she’s been lucky and she hasn’t ran into a single monster.

    She knew there was a possibility she could run into danger but she truly believed the monsters wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t have a weapon on her. Plus, there wasn’t much meat on her bones since she wasn’t being fed at the palace.

     “Don’t you know there’s monsters in the woods?” A voice hissed at (your name), causing the girl to glance at a tall man wearing silver armor with an unfamiliar, blue crest on it. The silver helmet completely covering his face.

    Well at this point in her journey, she’s going to disregard the stranger danger rule.

    “Oh I know. I’m just passing through is all.”

    “Either you’re a very brave woman or a very stupid one.” A laugh left her throat as she smiled at the stranger.

    “A little of both. I’m just going anywhere to start a new.” The girl smiled at the knight before continuing her way.

    “Wait up!” The male trudged after her, standing above her. “You can’t just go walking in the forest by yourself. What if you get kidnapped or killed-“

    “Then I get kidnapped or killed.” The knight held in a laugh before offering her an arm.

    “I can lead you out of the forest if you’d like. My name is Etrian by the way.”

     “That’s a nice name.” (Your name) replied, taking the knights arm. “You can just call me (your first name).”

    “Hmm. You have a pretty name.” Etrian smiled at the girl, causing her to furrow her brow.

    “It’s a very basic name. It’s not even worth remembering so you can call me anything you’d like.” Etrian tilted his helmet down in worry at her words. Wherever she came from, she more than likely never was treated with kindness.

   “I like your name so I’ll call you, (your name).” Etrian replied, causing (your name) to giggle. 

    “It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed… thank you, Etrian.” Etrian gave (your name)’s hand a comforting squeeze.

     “I was on my way to the Lancaster Palace but I think a damsel in distress is much more important at the moment.” Etrian puffed his chest out, causing (your name) to erupt in giggles again.

    “Maybe I should call you the brave one then for traveling alone, Etrian.” (Your name) gave Etrian a smile, the male shaking his head in embarrassment.

    “It’s a knight’s duty.” 

   (Your name) laughed some more, allowing Etrian to lead her through the forest. Their playful banter continuing. 

. 

. 

. 

      Cedric searched the woods with fervor. Easily slaying any monster that crossed paths with them.

     “My lord. We found the body of the Northern empire’s diplomat and his party but…”

    “But what? Did you find the Duchess?!” Cedric hissed, his red eyes coldly looking at the corpses of the northern empire’s men. But one was missing their armor.

    “Where’s his armor?”

    “That’s what I’m afraid of. It appears a monster may be parading around as a knight.” Cedric sighed before glancing nervously in the forest. He really hoped (your name) didn’t run into that monster…

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. 

    “Etrian. Do you like being a knight?” (Your name) asked her companion who hummed in response.

    “Not really. It’s kind of boring actually.” Etrian responded, his eyes glancing at (your name). “Especially listening to a lord’s orders all the time and standing guard? It sucks.”

    (Your name) laughed at his response. “At least you’re honest, Etrian.”

    “What about you, (your name)? What were you?”

    (Your name) smiled sadly as she glanced at the forest floor, causing Etrian to raise his hands up in alarm.

    “Oh I didn’t mean to upset you-“

    “I was nothing.” (Your name) replied with a solemn look in her eye. “Have you ever felt like that before? Like nothing? My existence didn’t matter where I came from before and after I ended up here.”

   Etrian placed a gentle, leather gloved hand on (your name)’s arm. “No I understand completely.”

    “Thanks, Etrian. You’re really nice even though I think you’re really strange.”

    “How am I strange?”

    “You abandoned the task at hand for me, which is very suspicious. But I appreciate you traveling and talking with me… I can’t remember the last time I actually had a conversation with someone.”

   Etrian gave her a nod, trying his best not to have his helmet fall off his head.

   “Isn’t that helmet uncomfortable? You could always take it off.” Etrian held up his hands as he began to laugh.

    “Maybe once we make it out of the forest.” 

    “Alright. Keep your secrets then.” (Your name) giggled, Etrian watched her walk a little further a head. A black tentacle creeping out from the helmet before quickly slipping back in.

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. 

     Cedric continued searching, a smile on his face once he saw a pair of footprints.

    “She went this way!” Cedric shouted to his men. The men all nodding their heads before following the tracks. “She can’t be far-“

    Cedric’s red eyes widened when he saw a second pair of footprints beside hers. Their tracks barely as visible as hers.

    “The monster is with her!” Cedric began to breath heavily, his hands shaking as he held the reigns to his horse tightly. He was going to find her. Cedric just prayed nothing happened to her.

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. 

    “Etrian. You’re really light on your toes.” (Your name) stated, causing Etrian to laugh. “Do you like sneaking around?” 

     “It’s just an unconscious habit of mine-“ an arrow whizzed by Etrian’s head, causing a scream to leave (your name)’s throat. 

    “Jesus-“

    “My lady, step away from the monster!” one of the knights from the southern empire shouted, pointing his bow and arrow at Etrian.

    “Monster? That’s Etrian-“ (your name) replied, only for more knights to show up.

    “One of the knight’s armor was missing at the carriage accident up ahead-“ 

    “I can actually explain that.” Etrian replied as he grasped the helmet of his armor before pulling it off. Revealing a handsome man with long silver hair and blue eyes to all the knights. “It’s me. Duke Graham.”

     “Duke Graham?! I can’t believe it’s you!” One of the knights laughed, the others all releasing their breath that they were unconsciously holding. “You were the only one missing from the carriage.”

    (Your name)’s eyes widened in horror. While everyone else saw a handsome man, she saw a giant black octopus like creature as the head of the knight. Her body started convulsing in shivers. 

     “Are you alright, (your name)?” Etrian asked with worry laced in his voice, reaching a hand out to her. The tentacles moving in every which way, causing (your name) to hyperventilate and take a step back in fear.

    “(Your name)!” Cedric rushed over to her, quickly separating her from the monstrous Duke. Cedric quickly dismounting his horse to hold (your name). “I’m so sorry. Please don’t run off again.”

    (Your name) didn’t return Cedric’s hug, her eyes focused on the black octopus monster that was known as Etrian. 

     “Let’s head back home, okay? And Duke Graham. You can ride on one of the other horses we have here with one of the knights. My wife will ride with me.” Cedric stated, hoisting (your name) up on his horse. 

   (Your name) cast one last look at Etrian, the tentacles waving at her which on caused her to tear up even more.

     While with the guards, they only saw Etrian give (your name) a warm smile and a wave. Why was she so scared of him? It wasn’t like she was seeing a monster.

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. 

. 

    “Why did you try to run off into the forest?” Cedric asked (your name) who sat in the sofa in his office with a blanket tightly wrapped around her. “You could’ve died-“

     “It would’ve been better than being here.” (Your name) muttered, pulling the soft blanket closer to herself. “Anything is better than here.”

    Cedric stood up from his desk, sitting himself beside (your name).

    “I’m going to start being a better husband. I moved your room to be next to mine now and you have a bed again. I also am currently working on investigating all of the staff that has mistreated you. They’re going to have their hands cut off for stealing and then exiled-“

     “That’s alright. You don’t have to do any of those things.” (Your name) sighed, wrapping the blanket around her even tighter. “I would like to head to my room. I’m quite tired.”

     Cedric held a hand out for (your name) to take, which she ignored. The young woman choosing to stand up with her blanket securely wrapped around her.

    “Would you like to have dinner together then?”

    “No. Just send it to my room please. It’s kind of late for all of those things, don’t you think?” (Your name) asked, avoiding eye contact with Cedric. 

     “I… I’ll try more. Just please don’t run off like that again.” 

   (Your name) opened the door to her room before shutting it quickly. The duchess laying down on the bed in defeat. She really was wishing she would’ve left this place.

     It was a shame Cedric had no intention of letting her go. Not to mention that Etrian was also staying with them for the time being.

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    Etrian sat in Cedric’s office sipping some hot tea. Blue eyes meeting red orbs.

      “Thanks for keeping my wife safe-“

    “Why did she run off?” Etrian hummed, causing  Cedric to glare at him.

    “It’s none of your concern, Duke Graham.” Cedric hissed, causing Etrian to smile. Cedric narrowed his eyes at the doll like man. 

    “She’s really pretty.” Etrian smiled at the peeved expression on Cedric’s face.

    “What brings you to the Southern Empire?” Cedric gritted his teeth at Etrian who only gave him a hum.

    “Mostly for trading business but seeing that my men were mauled to death and looted by your monster infested forest, I’ll have to wait awhile till we can proceed in business. I may have to stay here awhile as well.”

     Cedric sighed in defeat. His red eyes narrowing at Etrian. This was probably the most Etrian has spoken to Cedric in their entire life so far… and it irked Cedric.

    “Alright. I can let you stay for awhile. Just please don’t cause any trouble for me.”

    “I won’t.” Etrian smiled, causing  Cedric to place a hand on his temple. 

    “I’ll have the maids organize a room for you.”

    Etrian beamed at Cedric, his blue orbs shining mischievously. He couldn’t wait to see (your name) again.

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   Etrian wandered the halls, ignoring the excited whispers of the maids when he passed by. The silver haired man had adjusted well to the staff’s ramblings of his appearance.

    “Isn’t Duke Graham really handsome?” One of the maids asked another, causing the other maid to nod in agreement.

    “Just like a porcelain doll.” 

    “I heard he’s unmarried.”

    Etrian made his way over to the library, his blue eyes widening once he saw (your name) sitting in a chair in the far back corner. Her focus completely on the book in front of her.

    “Ah. (Your name).” Etrian smiled at the duchess, who gave him a nervous glance. Her eyes completely avoiding eye contact with him. “May I sit with you?”

    “S-sure.” Etrian pulled out the chair beside (your name), the wooden legs squealing across the floor. 

    “What are you reading?” Etrian asked, causing (your name) to nervously glance up from her book.

    “Oh it’s just a fairy tale story…” (your name) shyly replied causing Etrian to furrow his brow.

     “I’m quite fond of fairy tales. Which one is it?”

    “Beauty and the beast...” 

    “That’s my favorite one.” Etrian smiled, his tentacles flailing around excitedly, much to (your name)’s fear. “My mother used to read it to me all the time as a child.”

    “That’s really nice.” Etrian tentacles suddenly laid flat on the table, one of them laying on (your name)’s shoulder as if to show that he was concerned for her.

    “What’s wrong? You haven’t really looked at me since the forest.” (Your name) gulped, her hands trembling when the tentacles began to slowly caress her body. 

     “I… I’ve just never seen anyone that looks like you is all…” (your name) replied honestly. She wasn’t wrong. She’s never seen someone with a black octopus like head before and she was terrified. 

    “Oh… is my appearance not to your liking-“

   “My lady. The lord is looking for you.” The butler interrupted her and Etrian’s conversation, the young woman quickly rising up to her feet.

    “Ah. Sorry, Etrian. I have to get going.” 

    Etrian clutched his chest, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Could she really see him for what he truly was? 

   Etrian glanced at the book she was reading in awe. Was their story going to be just like beauty and the beast? Pure ecstasy consuming him.

     She had to be just like his dad. His mom always told him his soul mate would be able to see his true form just like dad could see hers. 

    “(Your name)…” Etrian couldn’t wait to find out.

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    “You called for me, my lord?” (Your name) bowed her head to Etrian, who frowned at her formality.

    “I did call for you, (your name).” Cedric motioned for his butler to go bring some tea for the two of them. “I’d like to have some tea with you-“

    “I’m not very fond of tea.” (Your name) wrapped her arms around herself, ignoring the disappointed look on Cedric’s face. “But thank you for the invite.”

    “How about a walk in the garden? You love the garden.” Cedric asked, a hopeful tune in his voice. (Your name) frowned. Didn’t he acknowledge that she had sent him divorce papers? Why on earth was he trying to court her now, of all times? 

    “Alright…” Cedric held out an arm for her, which (your name) hesitantly took. The dark haired Duke leading her down the halls and towards the garden.

    A certain silver haired man watching them from the library’s window. His blue eyes studying the discomfort on (your name)’s face.

    “You’re not comfortable around that man are you, (your name)?” Etrian softly whispered to himself, his blue eyes memorizing her soft features on her pretty face. “I wonder if I can make you smile again…”

    Etrian’s shadow revealed his tentacles flailing about in excitement. The birds that sat near the window quickly flying away in fear of the monster that was in the palace.

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. 

. 

    It was a stiff silence between Cedric and (your name). The two walking side by side in the garden without muttering a word to each other.

    “There’s some swans in the pond, (your name)…” Cedric smiled, softly breaking the silence. His red eyes glancing at her face, his eyes lighting up when he saw her smile at the swan pair. 

    He had finally found something that seemed to make her smile… Cedric was starting to get really worried about saving their relationship, especially with someone like Etrian in their home. Cedric had to admit that he was jealous of how beautiful Etrian was but he felt that there was something incredibly off about the silver haired male. Even when they were children, he was almost completely emotionless but he wasn’t that way around (your name)… it was very unsettling to Cedric.

    “(Your name), do you like Etrian?” (Your name) froze, her eyes wide at Cedric’s question.

    “I wouldn’t say like or dislike… I’m…” Afraid. (Your name) thought to herself. I’m afraid of him. “Indifferent towards him. He’s a Duke from the northern empire so I have to be respectful to him is all.”

     Cedric hummed, the Duke satisfied with her answer. His wife was a very respectful young lady, he didn’t doubt her answer at all.

   (Your name) narrowed her eyes at Cedric. Cedric couldn’t be jealous, could he? It wasn’t his place after years of being together without him ever caring about her personal life or feelings. 

     “It’s cold. I’m ready to head back inside.” The couple made their way back in, unaware that Etrian had overheard their conversation. 

     The silver haired man determined to have (your name) change her mind about him.

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     Etrian had found out many things about (your name) over the last few weeks he’s been staying in the Lancaster’s palace. 

    (Your name) used to live in a tower here, she didn’t like tea, she liked to write and read, her favorite food was (favorite food), she liked to eat pudding sometimes as well, her favorite color was (favorite color), and she was almost always alone.  Just like Etrian usually was.

     Etrian was thrilled to be finding out all this information from the maids who were more than thrilled to talk to him. The Duke was especially happy that one of the maids had even slipped up and told him that (your name) was trying to divorce the Duke. It made Etrian’s heart soar at the thought of (your name) being on the market for marriage.

   It wasn’t very hard for him to bribe one of the maids into sending that paper work to the emperor either. Which would make his end goal even easier to achieve.

     Etrian peaked his head in the library, a smile on his face when he saw (your name) sitting in a chair, sketching some birds that sat in the window. He’d have to add drawing to his mental list of her hobbies.

     “Hello, (your name).” (Your name) nearly jumped out of her shoes when Etrian snuck up behind her. One of his tentacles affectionately caressing her cheeks, something she tried to ignore.

     “H-hi, Etrian.” (Your name) responded quietly. Placing her pencil down on the table.

     “I haven’t seen you in a minute. I missed seeing you around.” (Your name) tried to hold her tears in when his tentacles slowly began to wrap around her body, caressing her affectionately. 

     Over the course of Etrian’s stay, she’s noticed that his tentacles tend to tell his emotions. She could tell when he was excited, upset, annoyed, happy, or even sad. And the tentacles were especially fond of her, touching her any chance they got, much to her displeasure.

     “I’ve been around. I’ve just been spending a lot of time with my husband is all.” (Your name) tried not to flinch when she saw the tentacles suddenly point at her like swords. It’s seems she upset Etrian by mentioning Cedric. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.” 

     The tentacles instantly relaxed, going back to their idle position of affectionately caressing her.

    “How about you draw me?” Etrian asked, a soft smile on his lips. He really wanted to know how (your name) saw him. 

    (Your name) smiled, opening a new page to her sketchbook, her body shaking when Etrian took a seat in front of her. The black tentacles retracting into themselves, as if they too, were folding together like his black gloved hands on the table.

     (Your name) shakily got to work. Tears gathering in her eyes as she continued sketching the monster she saw in front of her.

     Etrian frowned at her nervous expression. Why was she so nervous? Didn’t she understand that they were soulmates because she could see him?

     (Your name) glanced up, her face going pale when she saw two tentacles directly pointed at her eyes. The tentacles opening up to reveal two icy blue eyes staring directly at her. 

    Etrian smiled brightly. She finally made eye contact with him-

     A lord thump was heard, (your name) had fallen out of her chair. Etrian quickly rose up, his hand grasping (your name)’s shoulders, helping her up. 

    “Are you alright, (your name)?” His eyes widened at the drawing that she had made so far. A dark octopus like head sat on top of his body, a deranged smile crawling on Etrian’s lips. He was so excited. She could see him.

     “I-I’m sorry, Etrian. I… I need to go.” (Your name) stuttered out before she grabbed her book. “I’ll see you around!”

     Etrian could only watch as she took off, his blue eyes glancing at the pencil she had dropped in excitement.

     She could see him… she could see him. The real him. The monstrous curse his mother and him both had. 

    Etrian picked up the discarded pencil, blue eyes glancing around the library, making sure no one was watching him. 

      Etrian then placed the pencil in his mouth, suckling on the wooden utensil as his eyes rolled back in his head. Etrian wondered how her fingers would taste in his mouth when he- 

     Oh he was getting a little too far ahead of himself. He needed to calm down a bit before revealing his insatiable lust for her.

      A very disturbed Cedric stood outside of the library. Why in the world was Etrian eating a pencil?

    The dark haired Duke now more determined than ever to keep Etrian away from his wife. By all means necessary. 

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     (Your name) laid in her bed. Her form covered in a lightweight, white gown.  It was a little chilly at night, but nothing she couldn’t manage. It was the feeling of eyes on her that she couldn’t shake off. 

    (Your name) slowly rose from the bed, shutting the curtain to her balcony. The feeling still not leaving her. Perhaps she was being paranoid after the library incident.

     (Your name) made her way back to bed, the duchess pulling as many blankets as she could on top of herself. Maybe if she went to sleep, she’d be able to relax? 

     As (your name) drifted off, she failed to notice a body laying under her bed. A certain silver haired man crawled out from underneath her bed before he stood over her, blue eyes greedily taking in the sight before him.

     Tentacles gently began to caress her body, a soft groan leaving her throat before she unconsciously cuddled into the warm appendages, causing a smile to crawl on Etrian’s face. 

    He knew she would grow used to him. Maybe if he started visiting her every night, she’d stop fearing him as much. Etrian reached a hand out to brush some of her hair out of her face. 

    His soulmate was so pretty and cute… he couldn’t wait to steal her away from here…

    Etrian hummed before walking over to her little desk in the corner. The male setting down a small (favorite flavor) pudding on her desk. 

     Hopefully she’d like his little surprise for her.

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     (Your name) had terrible nightmares last night about a certain tentacle man. Her body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

     “My lady, your husband would like to have breakfast with you.” One of the maids said at the door, the maid’s eyes widening at the helping of pudding on (your name)’s desk. “Did you order pudding last night?”

     “Pudding?” (Your name) furrowed her brow in confusion before her eyes widened in shock at the (favorite flavor) pudding that sat on her desk. “I didn’t ask for pudding…”

     (Your name) smiled softly. Maybe Cedric had gotten her some. He has been a lot more attentive lately. 

     “Tell him I’ll be there. I just have to clean up a bit.”

    The maid nodded before heading off, leaving (your name) to wonder who left her the mystery pudding.

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. 

     “Thank you for the pudding, Cedric.” Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion at (your name)’s statement. “It was a nice sweet treat to have after a nightmare last night.”

     “Pudding? I never sent you pudding.” (Your name)’s face turned pale at Cedric’s words, a concerned look now on Cedric’s face as well. 

     “Then who knew I liked pudding and even my favorite flavor?” (Your name) nervously glanced over to the side. A certain man with a black octopus head, began to flail around excitedly before holding its tentacles like a shy school girl. And why were they slightly wet this time?

   Cedric followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing at the stoic Duke. There was no way Etrian was holding a torch for his wife right? Etrian wouldn’t sneak into her room to drop off pudding… no. Etrian was eating a pencil the other day. There was a chance Etrian was weird enough to break into a lady’s room.

    “Good morning, Duke and Duchess Lancaster.” Etrian bowed to the other dukes, his blue eyes studying Cedric face while his tentacles excitedly rubbed (your name) face. “I will be heading back to my empire in a week. I had a lovely stay here.”

    “I’m happy to hear that, Duke Graham.” Cedric gave Etrian a tight lipped smile, red eyes focused on the uncomfortable expression on (your name)’s face. 

   “I also heard a fun little rumor during my stay here.” Etrian placed a hand over his chin, an amused expression on his face. “I heard you two are getting a divorce.”

    “That isn’t going to happen now-“

   “Well you should’ve told that one little maid. Seems she sent the paperwork over to the emperor-“ Cedric quickly rose to his feet, his loud voice booming at the staff to quickly intercept the letter to the emperor.

    Etrian and (your name) now the only two left in the dining room. Etrian turned his head towards (your name), causing her to gulp in fear.

    “You’ll be single by the end of this week and I’ll be leaving home. When the emperor gets that letter, you’ll be demoted to a commoner.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles tightly wrapping around (your name), Etrian pulling her hand up to his face. Her body flinching when she felt his soft lips press against her hand. “So why don’t you become my wife? You won’t have to live as a commoner then and I’ll treat you well. Plus you can see what no one else can…”

    “What?”

   “Don’t play dumb. You can see me. The real me. And I can show you pleasure you’ve never felt before. Just think about it. I have 8 extra appendages compared to the average man.” Etrian whispered in her ear. “I’m also one of the richest men in the four empires. You’ll never have to struggle or starve again.”

    “Why me?” (Your name) whimpered, the tentacles slowly moving lower on her body, a few teasingly squeezing her legs and hips.

    “Because you can see me just like my dad can see my mom. Don’t you get it? We’re soulmates, baby.”

   (Your name) nearly cried when he pulled away. The tentacles smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes.

    “Just think about it, okay?” Etrian smiled, the tentacles flailing around excitedly. “I promise you’ll be very happy.”

    “You bastard!” An angry Cedric hissed, a fist colliding into Etrian’s face, the silver haired man barely moving. The tentacles now pointing at Cedric like swords, causing (your name) to freeze in terror. “Why would you do that?! You sent that letter a week ago-“

    “You don’t appreciate your wife. I found all those letters, Cedric.” A taunting chuckle escaped Etrian’s throat, the tentacles sharpening as they prepared to strike Cedric at any moment. “You’ve probably never even touched her-“

    “Please stop!” (Your name) stood in between the two, tears cascading down her face. Cedric’s heart clenching at her terrified expression. It was just an argument, why was she so scared? “I’ll go with you. Just please don’t hurt Cedric. Please…”

     Cedric froze when he saw the thrilled smile on Etrian’s face. Leather gloves hands held (your name) face with such tenderness, it made Cedric sick to his stomach.  

     “I’ll make you so happy. You’ll never be sad again.” Etrian cooed, his blue eyes gleaming at Cedric. “You can stay in my room for the time being seeing to it that you’re now a single woman. I’ll get you a nice pretty ring when we reach my empire.”

     “What does he mean (your name)? You’re not going to marry him are you?” Cedric froze at the defeated look on (your name)’s face. Her (eye color) orbs tiredly glancing at Cedric. 

    “I’m sorry, Cedric.” Cedric could only hug himself as he watched his wife be dragged away by Etrian. The silver haired Duke excitedly droning on and on about how much she was going to love their new life together.

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. 

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     Cedric peaked through the doorway of (your name) and Etrian’s room. His heart clenching when he saw how he tenderly held her in his arms.

     It wasn’t fair… if Cedric never messed up, she would’ve never met Etrian… she would’ve never divorced him… they’d still be happy…

    But were they ever happy? No… Cedric couldn’t remember the last time they shared a smile together or even a dance. Cedric never really deserved her… but he didn’t think Etrian did either.

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. 

     Cedric could only watch as (your name) and Etrian headed off to the northern empire in a carriage together. The silver haired man fretting over her every need while Cedric could only watch from his study’s window in utter distaste and envy.

      “My lord, she left you a sketchbook.” Cedric glanced at the book, tears gather in his eyes as he looked at all the intricate drawings of birds. The swans being his favorite.

     The last drawing was what made Cedric’s blood run cold. A terrifying eldritch monster with a black octopus head over Etrian’s body stared back at him, a small note in the bottom of making a shiver run down Cedric’s spine.

     ‘I can see him, Cedric. He likes that I can see him. Help me.’

      Now Cedric knew why she was so terrified of Etrian… it was because he was a monster.

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. 

    “I can’t wait for you to meet my mother.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles excitedly flailing around the carriage. One grasping (your name)’s chin. “You’ll like her.”

     “(Your name)… are you sad?” Etrian asked, the male grasping her hands in his gloved ones. “You won’t ever feel like nothing here. I’ll treat you to whatever you like.”

     (Your name) could only fully glance out the window. Her heart aching as she began to miss Cedric. She hoped he would at least be happy…

     A tentacle suddenly gave her a tight squeeze while another forced her head to look at Etrian. Smooth lips pressing against her own, her body shaking in fear as the tentacles began to grope her body.

    Etrian pulled away, her eyes widening when she finally got to see some semblance of a face on the man. A smile crawling on Etrian’s face.

    “There. Don’t think of other men around me. I don’t like it.”

     (Your name) could only silently cry as Etrian continued to press kisses on her face. His lips burning her with the  passion he held for her.

    “We’re going to have our wedding in a few days time once we arrive. Is there somewhere you’d like to go? Or something you’d like to do when we get there?”

     “I’m alright for now. Thank you, Etrian.” (Your name) politer responded, folding her hands in her lap nervously. 

     Etrian smiled before continued to excitedly chatter on about the wedding. His tentacles dancing around excitedly.

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. 

      A regal woman with long silver hair and bright blue eyes stood outside of the Graham palace. Her cold gaze focusing on the carriage that had arrived. 

     Former Duchess Guinevere had gotten the news that her son had found a bride while he was in the southern empire. She just didn’t think her son would latch onto the other duke’s former wife so quickly.

     Her eyes glared at the pretty young woman who exited the carriage, her eyes widening when she saw her son’s tentacles all over the girl. The girl subtly trying to push them off. Her son had found his soulmate… Etrian had found his soulmate!

     A bright smile was on the former duchess’s lips, the servants immediately blushing and whispering to each other. Guinevere never smiled and here she was smiling at the fiancée her son had brought.

     “Welcome home, son. I see you brought me home a daughter as well.” Guinevere smiled, her blue eyes gazing intensely at the trembling woman who wouldn’t look her in the eye. Was it a possibility she could see Guinevere’s true form as well? How interesting…

     (Your name) tried her best not to cry at how much larger the octopus like creature that Etrian called his mother was. She was terrified at how the other woman’s tentacles were poking her face as well.

      “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, duchess.”

     A hearty laugh let the woman’s throat, the regal woman gesturing for her servants to make her new family member feel welcome.

     “Please. Call me mother.”

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    (Your name) tried her best not to cry at the feast Etrian’s family held for them. Etrian’s mother’s tentacles were all over the former Duke. Who didn’t seem to mind as much as (your name) did.

     “Welcome, my dear. I see you’re still getting used to Etrian’s… quirks.” The former Duke, Rolfe, smiled at the young couple. His eyes narrowing at his son intensely staring at (your name). “Etrian, I’d like for you to start a toast for your lovely fiancée here.”

     Etrian quickly sprang to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding (your name)’s. While to other held up a glass of Chardonnay.

    “I’d like to raise a toast to my lovely fiancée, (your name). I cannot wait to be wed to such a lovely girl who can stand to be around the real me.” No she could not. (Your name) was doing her best not to pass out at the table right then and there at all the eyes (and tentacles) that were on her. 

    “(Your name), my dear. I’m so happy my son seems so fond of you. He was such a lonely boy growing up…” Guinevere sighed, her tentacles cradling her body as she continued to talk about Etrian. “He loves reading all the time. I swear he loved books more than his own mother-“

    “Mother. Please. You’re embarrassing me.” (Your name) could only smile politely as Etrian’s tentacles pulled her closer to him. The male pressing a kiss to her head. 

    Guinevere only smiled all knowingly at her son and husband. Rolfe sighing before gazing at the young couple. “You both have our blessing. We can have the wedding as soon as you’d like-“

    “Tomorrow.” Etrian stated boldly, causing his father to laugh.

    “Impatient just like your mother was.” (Your name) could only watch as Rolfe tenderly caressed his wife’s affectionate tentacles. “I’ll send some dress makers down to your room tonight then.”

  “Dear, remember when we were young?” The older couple soon got into a private and affectionate banter. The two giggling and whispering to each other like a young couple in love. 

    “See? You’ll be happy here.” Etrian stated, the young Duke pulling out (your name)’s chair. “How about we go on a walk while those two continue to flirt?”

     (Your name) nodded, hesitantly taking Etrian’s hand as the much taller male lead her out of the dining room.

     Her octopus fiancé motioning to the portraits on the wall of the most beautiful family she’s ever seen. Rolfe being the only one she recognized in the portraits.

    “Who are they?”

    “You don’t recognize your own fiancé?” Etrian chuckled as he pointed to the tall handsome man with long silver hair in the portrait. “I’m right there or can you only see these?”

     (Your name) tried not to squeal when the tentacles starting tickling her, trying her best not to smile at how playful Etrian was being.

    “I… I can only see those.”

    Etrian suddenly pulled her to himself, pressing a long kiss to her left collarbone.

    “My mother said my father finally saw what she truly looked like on their wedding night. So maybe you’ll just have to wait till then to see me.”

     (Your name) smiled, casting one last look at the handsome man in the portrait. There was no way that person and this tentacle abomination were the same person.

    But then again, Rolfe seemed super into Guinevere with or without her tentacles…

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. 

. 

    (Your name) stood at the alter across from a more than eager Etrian. The tentacles on his head flailing around excitedly while also trying not to touch her until after the ceremony was over.

    “You may kiss the bride-“ the marriage officiant didn’t even get to finish his words before Etrian pulled (your name into a passionate kiss, (your name) shutting her eyes so she didn’t have to see how the tentacles were running themselves down every inch of her body.

    The crowd going wild at how happy Etrian seemed, much to the dismay of Duke Lancaster who sat the farthest away from the ceremony. The Duke fiddling with a dried sprig of baby’s breath. He was here for closure but he didn’t want to accept the fact that his wife had practically been forced to marry some sort of tentacle monster.

    Etrian pulled away before scooping (your name) up in his arms as the crowd cheered for their union. The silver haired Duke giving Cedric a victorious smirk.

     Etrian had won. (Your name) was his wife now. He even had something planned for Cedric as well. Something that would make sure that Duke get over (your name) for good.

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. 

.

    Cedric groaned, red eyes widening as he realized he was bound and gagged in a chair. The Duke of Lancaster nervously glancing around until he saw Etrian standing in front of him. The silver haired Duke giving Cedric a smirk.

    “I’m going to let you watch our wedding night.” Etrian smirked, causing Cedric to scream at him through the gag, only for no sound to come out. “And maybe if you’re good, I’ll even let you in. I feel kind of bad for stealing your wife but I’m not opposed to sharing her.”

   Cedric’s red eyes widened when Etrian pulled out a syringe. The dark haired Duke thrashing in his restraints, causing Etrian to shush him.

    “It’s just a very strong aphrodisiac. I want you to feel everything and I also gave some to (your name) as well. I want both of you to be as aroused as possible. Plus you’ll be able to see what she can see while you’re on these drugs.”

     No… he didn’t mean. Cedric gasped when Etrian stabbed the needle into his bare leg, pupils going wide at the true form of Etrian being revealed to him.

    “God. I’m going to love this.”

     Cedric could only slightly struggle, the friction from the rope turning him on. The male watching helplessly as (your name) stumbled into the room. The poor girl a panting mess as Etrian slowly began to toy with the lacy white undergarment that hid her body from Cedric’s eyes.

    “Look, (your name). I brought your ex-husband here to watch as I defile you.” A sharp gasp left (your name)’s throat when two of Etrian’s tentacles squeezes her chest, the poor girl panting as Etrian ran his hands down her hips and dipped by her privates. “We’re gonna give him a show, okay? And if you’re both good, I’ll let him fuck you too.”

    Cedric gasped when the tentacles suddenly ripped apart the lingerie on (your name)’s body his greedy eyes taking in the soft curves of her bare body. His head spinning with lust at the thought of being able to touch his wife.

   Etrian suddenly wrapped two tentacles around her wrists, holding them in place as he positioned himself behind her. (Your name) moaning loudly at how rough Etrian was being. 

    “What do you say, (your name)?”

    “Please.”

    “Please what?”

    “Please… take me, Etrian.” Etrian’s pink tongue darted out to lick her tears away, causing (your name) to blush. Right now she was able to see Etrian’s human face while under the influence of the aphrodisiac, much to Etrian’s joy. 

    “Good girl. You’re such a good girl, (your name).” Etrian sheathed himself in one thrust in (your name) a strangled cry escaping her throat as he started to pound into her like a madman. “Shit. Look at how well you take it.”

    “Ah! Ah! Ah!” (Your name) began to cry as she felt her body being pounded into and Cedric’s eyes on her. “It feels so good!”

    “Does it? How about this?” (Your name) began to cry as she felt Etrian’s tentacles rub against her clit, practically seeing stars at the intensity they were going.

    “Etrian! I’m going to-“ Etrian tightly grasped (your name) body. The white haired man releasing deep inside of her as (your name) rode out her orgasm. The Duke kissing her face as he turned to look at Cedric who had a mess between his legs as well.

  “You’re a sick freak, Cedric. Getting off watching another man fuck your wife.”

    Etrian cut Cedric’s binds with one of his tentacles before motioning over to the moaning mess that was (your name). “Have at it.”

    Cedric slowly rose up before greedily pressing kisses onto (your name)’s bare skin. The dark haired Duke slipping himself into her with ease. His pale hand grasping her hips tightly as he drilled into her doggy style.

    “Fuck. I love you, (your name).” Cedric cried as he started to go into a brutal pace. “We could make this work right? A throuple?”

    (Your name) cried and moaned as Cedric continued to pound into her poor abused body. Etrian placing his thumb in her mouth as he stroked his cock in another hand.

     “Shhh. How about you put me in your mouth while he has his fun. It’ll be nice to have something in your pretty mouth.” 

     (Your name) could only nod her head as Cedric continued to pound into her. His balls slapping roughly into her ass as she started choking on Etrian’s cock.

    “Look at that. Such a good girl taking two cocks. You’re gonna be both of our wife. It’ll be fun won’t it?” Etrian cooed as Cedric started to cry.

   “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna get you pregnant, (your name).” Cedric threw back his head as he came deep inside (your name) the other Duke panting as he collapsed beside (your name), who continued to suck off Etrian.

     “Look at us, (your name). All three of us are practically insatiable.” Etrian cooed as he watched Cedric start eating (your name) out. 

     “I told you I’d make you happy here.” Etrian cooed, (your name) pulling herself away from his cock to whisper.

    “Yes I love it here, Etrian. I love you and Cedric so much. Ah!” 

    “Such a good girl.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles wrapping around (your name) as he continued to play with her body. “You’re gonna be pregnant with twins by the time we’re finished with you.” 

    “Thank you… thank you…” (your name) cried as she felt her body be flipped over by Cedric who decided he was going to go for another round. 

    “Isn’t she such a good girl, Cedric.” Cedric nodded his head as he started pressing hot kisses on (your name)’s body.

    “You should be happy to know that you two never actually divorced and now the both of us are married to her. My empire just allows polyamory so it’s easier for us to have fun here.”

    “Isn’t that fun, Cedric? We’ll all be one big happy family.” Etrian soon pushed (your name) onto Cedric’s lap, who was still pounding into her like a madman.

    Etrian positioned himself behind (your name), a wicked smile on his beautiful face.

     “Now let’s see how well you can handle two cocks in one hole.”

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You. 

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power. 

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact. 

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.  

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of. 

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence. 

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before. 

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception. 

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you. 

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long. 

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’. 

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it. 

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude. 

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak. 

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity. 

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders. 

You get it.

That was the deal, after all. 

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days. 

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve. 

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here. 

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you. 

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble. 

He is reminding you of your place. 

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no! 

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness. 

Fuck. 

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped. 

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff. 

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!” 

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.” 

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now. 

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense. 

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once. 

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now. 

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!” 

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you. 

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore. 

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be. 

It appears as though the sentence has changed. 

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.  

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance. 

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time. 

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions. 

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm. 

It always gets better after that. 

For him, at least. 

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs. 

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!” 

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here. 

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud. 

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity. 

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices. 

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion. 

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!” 

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away. 

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision. 

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!” 

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives. 

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there. 

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try. 

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust. 

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you. 

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously. 

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”  

Oh, no. 

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him. 

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?” 

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again. 

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all. 

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle. 

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further. 

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result. 

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it. 

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during. 

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!” 

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence. 

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this. 

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe. 

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting. 

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down. 

Quite literally. 

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness. 

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form. 

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake. 

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way. 

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

[miirohs]

all yours, all mine [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader wc: 1.3k cw: again, slight yandere/possesive tendencies, allusion to abuse an: guys i am feeling uninspired lately,,,, needed to pull everything in me for this one. sigh. its 2 in the morning what am i doing with my life i need to sleep not be up to this bs GODDDDDDD strike me down.

Charles knew you weren’t truly his wife.

He himself had shot his bride to be, too loud and too lecherous to realize how she’d met her end, bragging about killing him for his money in his club.

He thought that’d be the last of it, that their family wouldn’t be brave enough to show face again.

Yet, they became audacious, sending him a woman, a woman who was nothing like the bride he had seen. 

Hell, you didn’t even look the same as the other.

There was no way their family didn’t know by now that he was the one who killed their only daughter, yet he could only imagine this was their attempt at faking normalcy because he’d never seen his bride before, right?

He laughed, in all honesty. 

He could’ve played along, see what would’ve happened, and have been done with you by dinner if he wanted to. But part of him wanted you to show your true colors, to be able to kill the venomous woman hiding behind the veil.

That day never came though.

He was too baffled by the sight of you clinging to their sides, eyes down as you could barely keep up in the shoes slightly too big to be yours.

He pretended not to notice. 

At dinner he questioned you, much to your visible discomfort. He could see the glances you gave the other members of your supposed family, meekly responding back as they glared sharply at your head, only smiling when they noticed his stares. It didn’t take long for him to connect two and two.

It was there and then he’d made the awfully irrational decision to go forward with the marriage. He wanted to pull you out of your shell, see who you really were under the supposed mask you had on in front of everyone.

Your marriage was a grand affair, bosses from all around the globe visiting just to see the ceremony. He had refused to give in to their demands for a smaller wedding, going all out just for you.

And true to his word, he treated you with more respect than he’d ever cared to show anyone else. For him, hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks as he tried to pull you out of your shell.

It was a while before he got the first laugh out of you. He felt like he’d won everything when you gave him small smiles. He did everything to get them out of you. Showering you in lavish gifts, surprising you with expensive dates, it made him feel like he was finally doing something right. 

Seeing your full smile was what truly made it worth it, easing the pain of your time with your former family, if he could even call them that. 

He’d made sure to cut all contact with them, and he knew you were contacting them against his wishes, so he took it into his own hands to make sure they couldn’t bother you for a single cent again. He plotted behind your back and as sorry as he felt for lying to you, he paid for his guilt in consuming you with his neediness, wrapping you tightly from your waking moments almost as if you’d disappear forever if you left his field of vision.

You didn’t question it, but you couldn’t lie and say it didn’t startle you a bit.

He hummed as you gently ran your fingers through his hair, pit forming in your stomach as you heard him mutter in Italian on the phone, pen scratching against the paper of his notepad.

You heard the bare sentences of his conversation, too fast for you to understand, but you thought you had a good idea of what he was planning.

“Dovremo metterli a tacere (We'll have to silence them)-”

A couple heartbeats passed as he listened, your heart clenching almost painfully as you held the cuff of his suit jacket between your thumb and index finger. Maybe he had figured it out, maybe he was already plotting ways to dispose of you for tricking him in such a grievous manner. You hadn’t heard from the family in weeks, and it made you anxious.

“Non sono d'accordo? Bene, uccideteli (they won’t agree? fine, kill them).”

For a moment there, you didn’t see your husband, but the Devil of Monte Carlo.

He didn’t say anything, and you couldn’t bring yourself to, letting your hand slip away from his crown.

“Y/n? What happened?” He frowned, hand rubbing against the small of your back.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, words lying on the tip of your tongue as he cocked his head at you.

“It’s nothing.” You moved your hands away from his neck, balling into little fists in your lap.

“It’s not nothing,” He pressed, staring you down firmly despite the gentle tone of his voice. He knew you, almost too well.

“I… i don’t know how to tell you. You’re going to hate me if I do.” Your voice warbled out as he kissed you on the neck, too light and breezy to mean anything serious.

“Try me. You’d be surprised at how well I take things, and I'm not unreasonable.” Another kiss, leading up the column of your neck as you squealed at the feeling of his warm lips on cooled skin.

“Well, uh, i-” He bit down lightly, earning a soft smack from you in the back of the head, “-Char, what are you doing?”

“Trying to cheer you up.” He said, kissing on the spot he’d bit with an incomparable amount of gentleness.

“I just have something to tell you and i-”

“Is it important in any way that actively harms our lives?” He butt in, giving you a curious look.

“No, but-”

“Then I don't care.” He shrugged, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You didn’t even know you could’ve gotten that loud, when you finally spit it out.

“I’m not your real wife, Char. I never was.”

He didn’t say anything, humming against the crown of your head as his hand snuck up your back and held you closer to him.

“Char, please.”

“I knew that, this isn’t new news.”

You held on, mouth gaping slightly.

“You… you knew this whole time, and you-”

“I deliberately didn’t tell you.” He scoffed, pulling your chin down to look at him. “I knew you’d run back to that so-called family that I did if I had told you. You barely trusted me, and it was their fault. So that’s why I'm going to make sure all of them take a nice long vacation.”

You couldn’t really feel the abject horror anymore, melting into sheer relief as you finally looked at him once more.

There was something about the way he looked at you, tantalizing and hypnotized almost.

‘But, aren’t you mad about me…?”

“Oh I was, I was furious.”

His lips ghosted over yours, the hint of a smile somewhere there.

“But they ended up giving me something all the more precious, something I couldn't replace. You know what that is, mon amour?”

You didn’t even have to say it, as he kissed you, lips smooth against your slightly chapped ones. The expensive perfume grew stronger, closer and closer to you as the space between you closed.

“I’ve done some unspeakable things.” He panted quietly against your lips, landing another soft kiss on the other corner. “But nothing as unspeakable as killing your so-called “family” this late in the game. Some part of me wishes i had done it earlier to spare you that grief.”

You didn’t respond but he continued nonetheless, hands wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to him .”Remember that you're mine and I'm all yours. I would do anything for you.”

And the worst part is, somewhere deep down, you knew it to be true. He was always yours, and you were always his. He'd made sure of it, and you weren't entirely complaining.

[divinesolas]

Unexpected Surprise

Summary: While attempting to gain the support of the vale, jeyne arryn has plans of her own for the prince.

r.q: Everyone forgets house Arryn😔🤘🏻 baddies of the vale Can you write something w Jace and an Arryn maybe lady Jayne’s little sister or daughter or something? Not a totally unreasonable alliance !! They have the coolest castle and knights also Ms Aemma Arryn ™️ like hello!! (I’m impatient as hell for more Vale coverage in season 2)

w.c: 900+

c.w: baela and jacaerys are not betrothed, arryn!reader jenye’s daughter, FLUFF, just a very cute fic, drabble, not proofread

a.n: IVE HAD THIS DONE SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR NO REASON OMGGGG but with the recent jeyne content i felt inspired to write this !! just something super simple <3 HOPE YOU ENJOY !! LOVE UUUU GUYS

masterlist - requests open

“Im sorry, what my lady?”

“I wish for you to marry my daughter.”

This is not how jacaerys thought this would go. When he arrived in the vale he thought he thought he would have to make simple small talk, present some of the benefits, hells even throw some complements her way in order to convince her. This however had not been in his cards.

“I'm sorry my lady i do not understand.”

“My daughter, y/n remains unmarried, around your age, a sweet girl, agree to wed her and me and my men will bend the knee.”

He blinks. He has no clue what to say to her. Jeyne stands after a moment, “I shall go fetch her.” He watches as one of the guards tries to stop her and tells her he will go retrieve the girl but Jeyne seems determined to go herself and he moves letting her leave. Jacaerys stands awkwardly in the middle of the room unsure of what to do.

He is not too sure he can just flat out agree to a proposal without his mother position, it is not like he is a second son, he is the heir to the queen. The next king, his wife to be the next queen. Yet when he sees you walking into the room, wearing a long dress in your house colors with your mother trialing behind with a pleased look on her face he finds himself wanting to agree to the marriage right away.

You are stunning. Easily the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, sure he hasn’t seen that many women but it doesn’t matter. He watches as you bow and mindlessly nods in acknowledgment, unable to take his eyes off you.

Jeyne looks between the two of you with a satisfied look. “Why don’t you show the prince around?” She gives you a pointed look to which you nod, “Of course i would be happy to.”

He walks over and offers you his arm with a smile on his face and you graceful take it before you begin to walk off with him. Jeyne stays behind and smiles to herself.

“My mother is very forward i apologize to you.” He simply shakes his head, he finds himself look at you instead of the halls he’s supposed to be looking at. “It is not an issue my lady, I rather appreciate it.” You look at him curiously but turn away once you notice he is already looking at you. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Many people speak in riddles, not saying what they mean or truly want, your mother is a rare gem.” You smile at the praise of your mother, “She truly is.”

You lead him outside and begin to tell him about the different plants and different sculptures around the courtyards. He is so charmed by you. The way you light up when you spot something and you begin to tell him of a memory you have, like how your mother scolded you for jumping around in the fountain, or when you almost fell out of one of the window's when you fell asleep.

“You truly love this place.” He can tell. The way you smile at the guards as they walk by or the way you know every detail about everything in the walls. But he sees the way you falter slightly at his words, “Am i wrong?”

You shake your head vigorously, “no no i do, its just i have never been away from here. My mother is a very protective woman, she waves away any suitors, she never even lets me leave the eyrie it is ridiculous!” You realize you're letting your emotions show too much and bow your head, “i am sorry that was out of line.”

He grabs your hands and you look at him with wide eyes. “I understand my lady, my mother is similar, i have truly never traveled to far, i wish to explore, once my mother has her rightful throne i believe i will take the time to see westeros a little bit,” He pauses before he speaks again, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “I could take you with me? if that is what you wish my lady.”

He watches as your eyes begin to glow and you beam at him, “truly? oh nothing would make me happier.” He nods and grips your hands tighter, “I shall take you everywhere.”

He does not expect you to throw your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. He wraps his hands around your lower back, pushing his head into your neck and breathing in your scent. “I will accept your mothers propsal at once. You will fly with me to winterfell.” You pull back and give him an eager look. “Winterfell? Truly?” He nods, “I am to go meet lord cregan stark.”

You can barely contain your excitement at the thought of seeing something that was not the eyrie, especially a place as grand as winterfell.

Jeyne watched you two smile at one another from a window above with a small smile on her face. She does not hear the guard approaching her from behind, “You seem pleased my lady.” She says nothing to him for a moment, simply continuing to stare at the two of you. “Tell my men to ready themselves for war. It seems he will accept my proposal.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

[coryosbaby]

loser!jace velaryon with a slight older and dommy reader. she loves teasing him in public settings till he begs and then overstimming him to tears. maybe a mommy kink in there sometime. god i love jace.

18+, MDNI !!

LOSER! JACE VELARYON, to start off, has had a crush on his betrothed since he was a child. He thought he could never have a chance with such a beautiful and alluring woman, a goddess in disguise as a human being. But when it was time for him to find a wife, boy was he surprised. She had fucked him stupid before the two of them were even wed.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON had never been experienced. He had heard about the acts of sex from the men around him because of the prostitutes they took to bed. But he was raised better than that and he didn’t see a point in those sort of indulgences.

Until he met her. Then he became the neediest and most infatuated man. He even grew out the locks of his hair so she could yank on it more when he enjoyed his meal— the one between her thighs, of course.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON starts calling his wife mommy. Mummy, to be exact, because of his accent, but for the sake of the word let’s just say mommy. He doesn’t know exactly where the satisfaction from the word derived from. He thinks it may be because she’s a tad bit older than him and makes him feel nurtured and loved.

And Gods, does he sound so beautiful and sweet when he says it. It slips off his tongue in pretty, whiny words. “Mommy, can I touch you here?” “Mommy, I need you.” “Mommy, you’re so warm.” It’d be a shame if no one got to experience the desperate sound of his cracking voice when he’s just on the cusp of release.

Which is why his wife decides to tease him. LOSER! JACE VELARYON is at a wedding celebration when her palm skims over his most perfect spot. She notices the way his thighs tense up and he tries to keep composure— he’s in a seat at the dinner table, but that doesn’t mean the others around him aren’t at risk of noticing.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON tries not to sound so whiny when the men of the court ask him questions. He grabs ahold of her hand that’s squeezing him— a beg to stop this now, because this is important, mommy, because we can’t do that— but he can’t resist her for long. No, it’s a mere five minutes before he’s excusing him and his wife for a leave to one of the mostly empty corridors, his eyes on her corseted back and imagining the way she looks spread open on his fat cock. Gods, he can’t wait.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON is pushed against the stone wall of the corridor, eyes rolling and mouth falling open when his wife drops to her knees. She looks beautiful, a true Targaryen beauty. He’s never seen someone so perfect. His hand finds its way into her hair— it isn’t done up like usual. She must’ve been expecting this.

Her fingers deftly undo his trousers, smiling when his girthy length slaps up against his stomach. He’s all flushed pink and wet, aching for a hole to fill, and she knows it.

“What a naughty boy you are,” she teases, in that angelic lilt of hers. She trails a finger up his length, and he lets out a groan. “Getting all worked up in front of all those people. Tell me, husband. What do you think they’d do if they knew their little Velaryon prince was whining like a girl for his beloved’s mouth?”

He bites his lip, eyes scrunching closed.

“They would think…” he breathes out a sigh when her tongue laps at him teasingly. “They would think im a whore, mommy.”

“That’s right, sweet one. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

He nods, because he knows it’s the truth. Her hand wraps around him and lightly tugs. His hips move against the sensation, and his wrist moves up to be bitten by his teeth. She notices, and grabs his elbow. His arm is back at his side in a second, clutching onto the cool surface of the stone wall.

“No,” she says. “Let them all hear you, little prince. Let them hear you when I taste this sweet cock.”

He lets out a whine, watching as she takes his glittering, pink head into your soft mouth. She suckles him gently, playfully, and hums like a kitten at the taste of his precum. He’s delicious. She could eat him up for hours.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON is soon crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as she works her hand over him still, her fingers dripping with his first—second?— release. He can still hear the ongoing party as he shakes against the wall. He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

“Mommy. Mommy, it’s too much, please..”

“Don’t be difficult, Jace. Don’t you want to make me proud?”

Fuck, he wants it so bad he can’t breathe. He nods, plump lip quivering. He wonders when the party will be over…

LOSER! JACE VELARYON lets out a tiny whimper of fear when he hears the sounds of footsteps moving down the corridor. He comes to his senses for a mere moment, regardless of the fact that his wife’s hand is still pumping his cock. But she’s clever and she’s calm— she presses her hand to his shoulder and uses the leverage to push him against the corner of the corridor, a corner that has an extra wall built onto it and makes a tiny nook of secrecy and disretion. Jace hears the voices of his relative Alicent Hightower and her traitor knight, Sir Criston. Vastly approaching still, while his beloved’s hand works his dick, she speaks in a hushed whisper.

“Filthy, naughty boy. Cock out and covered in cum. You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

He can’t help it. LOSER! JACE VELARYON cries out his wife’s name, face twisted into carnal pleasure, and cums. Creamy white squirting all over her wrist and dress, balls drawn up tighter than a rubber band. He thinks she might’ve put a spell on him, this woman.

She smiles, listening to the awkward and rushed sound of Alicent and Sir Criston leaving the corridor when they realize the adultery occurring. Jace’s wife brings her fingers up to her mouth and gently sucks the spend off her thumb.

“You’re doing so good for mommy. I think you can handle one more. Don’t you think, little prince?”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: fem!reader, cisgender female reader (I'm sorry mascs and nbs, I'll make something for you later) incest/targcest implied for later, platonic and romantic yanderes, yandere EVERYONE x reader, here's a list of every character that will be featured (not all of them are romantic):Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhea Royce, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Haelena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon

Notes: I go by a very strange mix of the series and the books, I haven't seen the series in a while so the timeline will most likely be a mess. I'd like this to be a series but I've been incredibly busy. Extra: at first I thought about making reader Mysaria's daughter, but this is a self insert, so it's best that you look however you like, leaving the mother anonymous. The only physical reference I'll make will be reader's silver hair

>After Rhaenyra was declared the heir of the iron throne, Daemon, insulted, flew away with his mistress, the white worm, who he would conceive a child with, even asking for a dragon egg for the prince or princess to come

>However, Viserys demanded him to go back to his home and wife, he sent Mysaria off to lys, where the stress of a storm in the trip back made her lose the baby

>Daemon never fully forgave his brother, and this left him less than eager to have another child anytime soon

>So imagine his surprise, when 7 years later, there's a rumour spreading in flea bottom like wildfire, about a girl carrying Daemon's bastard

>Many women had claimed to carry a royal child before, thinking this could give them any sort of prize, so Daemon didn't think much of it at first, but when he heard her name, he recognized her as one of his previous "favorites" who disappeared without a trace months ago

>She was said to have taken residence in Essos, and Daemon went on dragonback to find her. She was from the free cities, five years older than Daemon, and a heart as cold as a northern winter, or so they said. She was not expecting Daemon, running away to have the child in peace

>"They said I was too far along when I found out, moon tea would've only harmed me. Besides, it was lucrative in its own way" said the woman. Daemon did little to suppress the disgust on his face when thinking about her being defiled by other men while carrying his dragonseed babe

>She wanted no part in the baby's life, and Daemon, in his particular fashion, informed her he'd take the youngling as soon as it's out of her, may even pay her a few coins to make sure she won't do much as think about keeping it

>A few months passed, and he returned to king's landing with a babe in arms. Demanding an egg in honor of the birth of princess Y/N Targaryen

>This egg would later hatch into the dragon Dagahrion, the princess' bound dragon

>The court was a hot mess, according to Otto, he wouldn't be surprised if the young creature lost its left ear because of all the gossip and ill-speaking of her, just like her father. This was a scandal, considering he was still married to Rhea Royce, who he gravely dishonored time and time again, Daemon was always shameless, but this was crossing a limit, even for him, to call his bastard a princess while refusing to lay with his own rightful wife, disgraceful

>Daemon tried to use you as yet another attempt to get his brother to annul his marriage to "the bronze bitch", but even when he failed, he did everything in his power to legitimize his daughter

>Despite everyone on the council telling Viserys how foolish it'd be to do it, making enemies out of the Royce house, further insulting Rhea, and putting a whoreborn on the line of succession (no matter how far from the throne), all it took was a little yawn and the bright twinkle of your eyes to make him melt, he is fully committed to his role of uncle, even as a doting grandfather, considering his father passed long before her birth

>Viserys sent Daemon back to the Vale, saying he should do his best to give lady Rhea an heir, to make up for the slip and avoid causing the Targaryen house any more trouble. Viserys, for totally not selfish reasons wanted to keep the princess in KL, saying Rhea should not be made to raise his bastard

>Daemon said he'd rather be exiled again than to leave his daughter in Hightower hands to go try to fuck his wife. Viserys was greatly offended by the implication that the Hightowers truly ruled and schemed while he reigned

>To his outmost displeasure, he finally had to let his niece go to the Vale with her father

>Rhea loved you as soon as she set eyes on you, completely separating you from your father's actions, and seeing you as a pure angel in this horrible situation

>But it was so difficult with Daemon around, she just wanted to whisk you away and love you, she'd pray to the mother to be able to breastfeed you, crying when she heard you wail in frustration of your hunger, since it took several wet nurses to get you to drink milk

>But Daemon was always around to remind her you were not hers, that he considered her lowly, not worthy of you. He'd correct you when you learning to speak, and dared to refer to her as "mama"

>It was said the ground of the vale would shake upon them yelling when fighting over you

>But this joy to Rhea was short lived, as Daemon sent you to KL when he had to fight in the war of the stepstones, saying the "nest of vipers" was more deserving of you than she was. When you were three, your step mother had an accident while hawking, many said Daemon orderded for her to be poisoned when she was bed bound, others said the distress of your parting made her lose skill

>It was Viserys greatest pleasure when you were left at his care, his adorable baby niece was now an infant, and somehow you were even more charming, being able to speak, sing and walk

>To no one's surprise, Viserys' reaction was not generalized, with many not being keen on having a bastard running around the castle playing with the princes, by that point, Aegon was 8, Haelena was 7, Aemond was 5, and Daeron was 1, and almost all of them could see people treated you differently

>Rhaenyra was welcoming, baby Lucerys had just been born, and she was delighted to have a girl to spoil, it only helped that Jacaerys loved you as well, and would often fight his uncles for the chance to be with you

>Alicent in particular was not pleased with your presence, thinking you were an uncomfortable conversation to have with her children, especially resentful of the fact her youngest son would be attached at the hip with you

>To Otto, you were an annoyance, a living proof of Daemon's pure disregard for the norms, however, he could rest at night knowing you were ninth in the line of succession, and a girl, who would someday marry a son of a minor house and be too busy bearing children to present a claim to the iron throne

>Even though the Hightowers were tougher than the king, they did eventually succumb to your spell, and became just as enamoured with you as everyone else, in their minds, you were almost a product of spontaneous generation, completely ignoring your shameful father and prostitute mother

>Your arrival also caused the birth of Lucerys (who was again, born with a striking resemblance of Harwin Strong, just like his older brother) to be less gossiped about, after all, your case was much more interesting

>Some people in court starting referring to you as "The princess of flea bottom", this title costed quite a few tongues around the castle, ordered by Viserys, happily approved by Otto

>The Hightower hand was careful not to show too much affection to you, as it was improper and he knew how zealous was Viserys when it came to you

>Aegon was "already too old to be playing" in his words, and kept his distance from you, you reminded him to much of his sticky handed little brothers

>But as if you knew, you chased him around and praised him for his knightly demeanor (in your eyes) and how he's just like the heroes in Viserys' stories. It was not a long time before Aegon now appointed himself as your guard, watching like a hawk over his brothers and nephews when he thought they were being too rough on you

>Haelena loves you from the start, sees you as a little doll, she loves showing you her bugs, you're the only one who listens to her attentively

>Jacaerys and Daeron are only a year old, but always search for you, you think they're cute, something that spikes jealousy on Aemond, he wants you to think of him as someone worthy of admiration, like you see his older brother, he'd even accept being cute in your eyes, but he has none of those traits to appeal to you. You love him and love playing with him nonetheless, but he thinks he needs something else to win your favor

>The Velaryons dote on you too, with Laenor married to Rhaenyra and once your father marries Laena that same year, they are maybe too eager to become part of your family, and regard you as theirs

>Especially Laena, who Daemon allows (unlike with Rhea) to pamper and care for you, but still corrects you when it comes to remembering your origins, Laena may love you, but she's not your mother

>Maybe Daemon does this as a way to imagine you're only his, he doesn't care for the woman who abandoned such a precious treasure, she has been wiped away from your life and memory, you're only familiar with your father, you only belong to him

>You have his silver hair, you have his name, no matter who your mother was, you are his true valyrian heir, his dragonseed

>Unfortunately, Daemon is not the only one whose eyes light up when thinking of owning you

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part One

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mild Mocking, Mild Fear (Nothing descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

It started off like any other day in the Marino homestead. Aurelia Marino was the first to rise, gathering her clothing and shoes for another tiresome day on the family farm. She thanked the gods her father was kind enough to take the heavier jobs dealing with the livestock, along with her two older brothers. Aurelia made her way to their small allotments to gather any fruits and grains she could harvest to bring back to her mother, who sold the goods just outside the large capital, Rome.

The sun shone bright yet hazed with its beautiful creamy-yellow hue. Aurelia stood back, closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, absorbing the early morning rays, feeling thankful for everything that she and her family has. They certainly didn’t have much, with the family often sharing meals which should feed two and making do with their less than favourable living arrangements. It mightn’t have been everyone’s dream, but for the Marino’s? It was home.

She made her way home and delivered the goods to her mother, who made her way into the capital, along with Aurelia’s aunt. The home had seen better days, so Aurelia took to cleaning from top to bottom. It consisted of 2 rooms – one for living quarters, and one for sleeping. Aurelia was a daydreamer, which helped her in ways zone out of the monotonous tasks she endured daily. She dreamed of a life far away from the farm, perhaps even out of Rome, with her one true love and their life which they live in no fear and without worry. Now that’s the dream.

“Aurelia…. AURELIA!” startled, Aurelia turned to find her mother in a fluster.

“What ever is the matter, Mater?” she asked.

“Daughter, we have just returned from the Capital. The guards are out, exclaiming how the Emperor wishes to settle… they want to find him a wife! I was thinking we should bring you to him, to the Guards, to whoever will see you. I know what they say about him, but surely the life you would have would supersede that, and who knows maybe they aren’t as bad as they are painted. Oh Aurelia, this is such an opportunity for you to-…” her mother exclaims without hardly stopping for air.

Aurelia looks puzzled. She does not understand why this information should be relevant to her. She cuts her off, “Mater, please sit and calm. I do not know why this is important to us? We have heard stories mother and we have seen firsthand what the Emperors are capable of. They are vile in nature. The misfortune they spring onto the people of Rome and they laugh? Besides, we both know the Emperor should not want common people like us. He will want to marry a high-status lady. Why should we worry?”

Her mother, Julia, looks deflated and slumps in her seat. Tears form in her eyes. She looks to her daughter, “Aurelia, I am sorry. I got myself so excited when I heard the news. I only wish the very best for you. I know what the Emperors are, but the lifestyle they have, it could not compare with what myself and your father could ever give to you. You work so tirelessly hard around here, and I want you to have a life I could have only dreamed of. I am sorry I could not give this to you now…”

Aurelia sighs not liking seeing her mother so deflated, Julia interjects, “Anyway, forget my outburst. Let us prepare a meal for your father and brothers.”

Up at Palatine Hill, there were great deliberations occurring. One member of the Senate announces, “Caesar, I do not wish to inflict my decision upon you, but I must stress how we must be very selective over who we choose. We do not wish to weaken your hard-earned line of succession, it wo-”

“QUIET!” A screech overpowers the Senate member. The hall grows deathly silent, so much so the slightest move of a finger was heard. Caracalla sneers in the corner, observing his little brother’s outburst with great delight.

“Tell the Guards to fetch me every eligible woman in the immediate area. We are to have them presented to me and my brother by midday tomorrow. Any status, I want to see them all, peasant or not.” Geta affirms loud and clear to their subordinates.

Caracalla rises from his seat with Dundus on his shoulder, with a merciful “HA!”, “The instruction is clear, we want to see them all. We would like to get some sort of amusement out of this day, so the more peasantry the better! Now off you go, find us ladies!”

There was no movement in the room until Geta announced, “Did you not hear my brother, you disobedient fools – be on your way!”

The Praetorian officials who were present quickly collected themselves and made their way to arrange the troops.

The two brothers burst out into what could only be described as maniacal laughter, at a combination of the misfortune of the potential ‘suitors’ and whatever plans they were outlining for their futures. The Senate looked on in horror as they saw the ‘Twins’ conjuring up their next scheming plans for goodness knows what. Only the gods know what they could be scheming now.

It was turning to nightfall quickly, and Aurelia was preparing the bedding for the family, and folding away any washing she had completed during the day. The gallant sound of trotting began to get louder and louder and began to puzzle Aurelia. She walked out into the living quarters where her family were gathered. Her father was about to speak when he was cut off by three sharp knocks at their barely held together door.

Fear shoots through Aurelia. Who could be calling at their door at this hour? It could only mean trouble.

Her father rises, with her brothers swiftly behind, and opens their door. Stood proudly were three Praetorian soldiers, with scroll in hand. “Hello, how may we help you Sires?” Augustus, her father spoke.

The Praetorian soldiers in a half scoff announced, “We are here to demand the presence of the lady, Aurelia Marino, for their highnesses Emperors Geta and Caracalla. She is to present herself along with a chaperone to the Colosseum at precisely midday tomorrow. It is expected she preen herself to look her best as she is to be compared amongst all other ladies of the nearby land in a bid to be betrothed to the great Emperor Geta.” They look behind Augustus to see Aurelia standing sheepishly, hands entwined within each other, hair scooped back and the rags of today on her for clothing. With a snort, they announce “We can see you have your work ahead of you, so we shall leave you to prepare.” They giggle like school children amongst themselves and make their way back to their horses.

Almost like a sixth sense, her father feels Aurelia’s fear from behind his slight frame and bravely shouts after the soldiers demanding, “And what if we do not attend?”. The lead commander of the group, already mounted on his horse turns to look over his shoulder, “You and your daughter will face the arena, and you best pray that the gods are in your favour that day.” Off the calvary took, leaving Aurelia feeling like a dormouse.

“Am I truly that hideous that they must laugh in my face?” her confidence, the little she had, was shattered. Her mother looks disgusted and explains, “My dear child, you are of kind face and mind. You are beautiful both inside and out. You mustn’t worry of the thoughts of the others; they are as ugly inside as they are out.” Aurelia half laughs, and shrugs away a tear from her eye. Julia continues, “Mea amor, anyone, including the Emperor would be lucky to have you. I know I was excited earlier at the prospect, but now its so real, I pray to the gods you are dismissed.”

“Thank you Mater.” Aurelia draws a deep breath, sighs, and continues “I am going to prepare for tomorrow. I shall see you in the morning.”. She takes herself off to her side of sleeping quarters and hunts out her best outfit, which in Aurelia’s case is a plain tunic that is lacking holes (or as little as possible).

As the night draws on, Aurelia finds it more and more difficult to fall asleep at the prospects of being put in front of the co-emperors tomorrow. She tosses and turns so much that she excuses herself to the living quarters to reside there, in a bid to disturb her family less. Finally, the tiredness wins, and sleep consumes her.

The commute to the Colosseum usually was full of excitement for Aurelia and her father. It usually meant a day of entertainment, and quality family time – full of joy, excitement. Today couldn’t be further from that sentiment – it reeked of fear. As the pair strode up the narrow-walled street to the grand building, Augustus stopped suddenly. Turning to his daughter, he spoke gently, “Aurelia, you do not have to attend. I will see to fight in the arena if it means your freedom.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, “Pater, he will not even look at me no doubt. Please do not put your life before mine, especially for such trivial matters. Let us attend to see it through and get back to our lives.” The pair breathed deeply in and began the uneven trekking once more.

On approach, the queues of ladies with their chaperones started and continued right around the vicinity of Palatine Hill. ‘How are they ever going to see all in one day?’, Aurelia asked herself. She and her father began their queueing and waited with bated breath to see how the fates lay.

It was nearing nightfall before Augustus and Aurelia entered what could only be described as a colossal banqueting hall. Up ahead in the distance, Aurelia caught glimpse of bright orange locks, flailing hands, and maniacal laughter. She knew it would be only too soon before she would approach the Emperors.

A guard confirmed her identity, and instructed her and her father to move forward. She knew she was now next. The intensity of this strange situation was palpable. I mean would it be so bad to become an Empress? It would mean she could provide more for her family, and lessen the burden on her mother and father, who were not getting any younger. And as much as it pained her to admit it, there were much less handsome suitors to be paired with. Perhaps however with a little less bloodthirst.

Taking her out of her trace, was a guard announcing “… -side Rome, Augustus Marino with his daughter, Aurelia.” She and her father bowed before the Emperors, not daring to look either in the eye. She could hear one of them saying something to the other, with a huge cackle to finish their commentary. Bravely, looking from under her brow, she caught sight of Geta staring intently at her, with a woman either side of him, softly touching him, meanwhile Caracalla seemed to be enjoying this charade with an entourage of both men and women at his side.

Geta rises from his chair. He swiftly moves his hands to signal to her father to step back from her.

“Speak Girl. What is your name again?” Geta asked with intense authority.

“Aurelia, your Highness.”

“Golden.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Golden. Your name, it’s meaning.”

“C-Caesar, please forgive me I did not know this fact. I-I-I thank you for bestowing me with such knowledge.”

Caracalla begins to laugh hysterically, “Brother, she is so weak and feeble. ‘Please Sire, Yes Sire’. It’s rather quite pathetic but marvellous to observe.” Geta begins to laugh in approval with his brother, “Yes brother, you’re right!”

Geta moves forward with great authority, and Aurelia flinches. He swarms her, taking in every detail about her, from the way her skin shines in the last of the day’s sun; her hair and how it cascades down her shoulders; her eyes and the piercing blue contrasting all what seems to dull about her; the clothing she wears and how it looks like rags not even his cleaners would dare be seen to use in his presence. Yet, with all, there’s something so dearly capturing about this one, that he dares not let show.

He was about to step even closer, but was interrupted by his brother’s clashing tones, “She really is rather miserable. I mean look at her father.” Mockingly he begins, “Sir, Sir, please how much money does one have on his person? I bet Dundus has more to carry in her purse than you!” After listening to Caracalla’s laughter for a second too long, Augustus holds back any sign of animosity, and starts “Emperors, please forgive me, I try my best. I work hard to keep a roof over my family’s head and food on our table. I previously fought for Rome, but had to reside to my current life after I was let go. My daughter is a wonderful person, I may not be able to give you anything in terms of material earnings, but my daughter pays for that tenfold, she-”. He was caught off my Geta rising his arm, while staring intently at Aurelia. Ignoring his brother’s ignorance, and her father’s pathetic cries, Geta leant closer into Aurelia, who could feel him breathing on her soft skin. With a swift move of his hand, he swept the hair away from her shoulder to get closer to her ear.

“You should be thanking the gods, Aurelia… gold is my favourite metal.”

She shivered in response, while Geta looked at her with what she didn’t know was sheer disgust or intrigue. Turning on his heels, he ushered away the ladies who were once at his side and sat with authority. Giving the guards a look, he announced, “Let it be known that I am to be betrothed this coming week to Aurelia Marino. We will bare the heirs of utter greatness and Rome will live on and conquer once more. Praise gods.”

There was a cue of sighs and ‘praises’ behind Aurelia and her father with those waiting to be seen by the Emperors dismissed.

Sneering at Augustus, Geta sweeps past the two of them without so much as looking in Aurelia’s direction. A guard approaches Aurelia and instructs her, “Lady, we must now take you to your new living quarters. Bid your farewells and follow us.”

She and her father stare at one another in sheer shock. Neither knowing what had just happened. She hugs her father tightly whilst crying into his shoulder, but she keeps reminding herself that this should work for her family’s favour. They need not worry about materials no longer; she would see they were all looked after.

Aurelia set on her way to follow the guards, with one last look over her shoulder to see her teary father and turning back to pave her way in a new life. A new world.

Part 2

[chocolatepot]

Hi! Can you elaborate on "Fuck GRRM's committment to 'historical realism' without knowing anything about medieval social history"? I would love to know about what GRRM gets wrong about medieval gender roles, specifically.

So Cersei learns at an early age that she has no agency, her only value is producing heirs and is barred from traditional routes of power so she has to use underhanded methods such as influencing men with sex or using underhanded magical means. I would love an explanation on why this doesn't reflect medieval queen consorts and noble women irl.

Sure! The basic summary is: GRRM "knows" the things that everyone "knows" about the middle ages, which are broad stereotypes often reflective of a) primary sources that deserve a critical reading rather than being taken at face value and b) the judgements of later periods making themselves look better at the medieval period's expense.

As Shiloh Carroll argues, building on the work of Helen Young, “readers are caught in a ‘feedback loop’ in which Martin’s work helps to create a neomedieval idea of the Middle Ages, which then becomes their idea of what the Middle Ages ‘really’ looked like, which is then used to defend Martin’s work as ‘realistic’ because it matches their idea of the real Middle Ages.”

Since you're mainly interested in Cersei here, I'd strongly recommend a book: Queenship and the Women of Westeros: Female Agency and Advice in Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire, edited by Zita Eva Rohr and Lisa Benz. It's an excellent read and speaks to exactly what you're asking about. The tone of the book is very positive and non-judgemental when it comes to GRRM and his depictions of women on the whole, but I think some of this is rhetorical positioning to not seem like "mean angry academics jumping on fiction for not being accurate," as the actual content turns the reader to thinking about how much agency and power medieval queens had in different European societies and how little of that worked its way into GRRM's worldbuilding.

It's true that women typically didn't inherit titles and thrones in their own right, and that they were usually given in marriage for political/dynastic reasons. However, they weren't seen as brood mares whose only duty was to pop out sons: both queens and noblewomen had roles to play as household managers, counselors, and lieutenants, actively participating in the ruling of their domains and in local and international diplomacy (women in political alliances were not just pawns sent to a powerful man's bed, but were to act as ambassadors for their families and to pass information back and forth), and they had to be raised with an understanding of this so that they could learn to do it. Motherhood was very important, don't get me wrong, but it's a mistake to assume as pop culture does that a wife's foremost duty being to provide heirs for her family meant that she was ONLY seen as a mother/potential mother.

Catelyn is a great example of what was expected of women in these positions. But in the books, Catelyn is basically the only woman who inhabits this role, and the impression given is that she's exceptional, that she's just in charge of the household because she's so great at it that Ned allows her to be his partner, and that he listens to her advice because she happens to be a wise person in his orbit - and also that Ned is exceptional for giving so much power to a woman, because in the world of ASOIAF, it takes an especially good man to do this. In GRRM's view of the medieval world, realpolitik and the accumulation of power are the most important things, so men in Westeros are extremely unlikely to give up any authority to their wives, even though this is historically inaccurate.

Cersei, on the other hand, is supposed to be a more realistic depiction of what would happen to an ambitious medieval woman. There's a chapter titled "Queen of Sad Mischance: Medievalism, “Realism,” and the Case of Cersei Lannister" in the book I've rec'd, and it deals with why this is problematic extremely well. (This is the source of the quote at the top of this post.) In it, Kavita Mudan Finn argues that Cersei embodies pretty much every medieval trope for the illegitimate wielding of power by a woman. She underhandedly gets people killed for opposing her, she seduces men into doing her bidding, she advances her family's interests and her own at the expense of the realm. She's made sympathetic through fannish interpretation and Lena Headey's performance, but in the text she's an evil woman doing evil things. Even when she gets to be regent for her son - a completely legitimate historical position that allowed women to handle the levers of power almost exactly like a king - she continues to do shitty things and not be taken seriously because she's just not good at ruling.

But even before then, from a medieval perspective she had access to completely legitimate power that she didn't use: she'd have had estates giving her a large personal income, religious establishments to patronize (giving her a good reputation as a pious woman and people she'd put in high positions being personally loyal to her), artists and writers to patronize as well, power over her household, men around her listening to her counsel. That she doesn't have that is a reflection of GRRM either deciding these things don't really exist in Westeros in order to make it a worse world than medieval Europe and justify Cersei feeling she had to use underhanded means of power, or not knowing that they were ordinary and unexceptional because he has a good working knowledge of the politics of the Wars of the Roses but little to no knowledge of social history beyond pop culture osmosis, and, imo, little to no interest in actual power dynamics.

There are a lot of books I'd recommend on this subject. There's a series from Palgrave Macmillan called "Queenship and Power" and nearly all the books in it are THE BEST. Theresa Earenfight's Queenship in Medieval Europe is a very readable introduction to the situations of queens in European societies across the continent. She also has a book, Women and Wealth in Late Medieval Europe, that also addresses non-royal women's power. I'm also a huge fan of English Aristocratic Women, 1450-1550: Marriage and Family, Property and Careers, by Barbara Harris, which really emphasizes the "career" aspect of women's lives as administrators and diplomats.

[lightleak007]

~ The Legend of How You Disappeared ~

Storyline: Kokushibo thought that people with rare blood are the only ones who can make him feel the excitement of consuming them. But you—you are awakening his humanistic urge that is supposed to be long forgotten.

!! SMUT ALERT !!

!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !!

PS. Hi, reader! I'm making my tumblr debut with one of my favorite Demon Slayer Character x Reader stories that I made. Hope you enjoy reading~

During the Taisho period, it is part of the culture to be married at a young age. The age of sixteen is the appropriate age to have a husband through an arranged marriage. That’s why learning how to be a good wife is much more important than learning how to be intellectual.

You had prepared yourself for the day to be chosen as a bride, but your life wasn’t the same as everybody else—no one wanted you.

If only you were chosen and got married by the age of sixteen, you wouldn’t be seen as bad luck by your own family and everybody else in town.

As you live your life for two decades, you are seen as a disgrace, and everyone who knew you always looked at you with pity in their eyes. Even work does not come easy since everyone believes you’ll only attract misfortune to their business. It got you thinking that maybe life isn’t hard, it’s just you finding it hard to live because the people around you make it so.

It feels like you’re just breathing, but not living—you feel empty and unwanted. The only thing that gives you peace of mind is an evening walk, and you developed a habit of doing it every night without a miss.

Even with the rumors about a demon who hunts humans for food being the only talk in your town lately, it doesn’t stop you to take a late-night walk. More like, you don’t care if you encounter the demon and he puts an end to your life—or maybe the demon won’t even choose you to be their prey in the first place.

You scoffed at the thought of encountering a picky demon as you continue to walk towards the riverside. When you got to your usual spot, you put down your lantern on the grass before sitting beside it. The moon is unusually bright tonight and its light is reflecting on the calm water that is flowing in the river in front of you.

“Ah~ It feels a little chilly tonight,” you said to yourself as you felt the night breeze, and put on your haori that you brought with you. Nighttime is the only time you are free—from judgments and the pitiful stare of everyone you know. It feels nice to have solitude and the gentle flow of wind against you is adding to your relaxation.

The cold air of the night keeps brushing against your skin and as the wind blows, your scent is being flown with it—reaching the nostrils of the rumored demon in the area. He can feel his senses tingle upon smelling a human nearby.

Kokushibo moves swiftly to your location, his hunger beginning to rise within him. Just by your scent, he could tell you are a woman in her younger years, and the closer he gets to where you are… his sixth sense revealed much more.

Without you noticing him, Kokushibo stands a few feet away behind you. He couldn’t believe what he could see with his sixth sense, but he knows that his eyes are not lying to him.

Kokushibo can tell without a doubt that you are a virgin.

A thrill runs in his veins and an unfamiliar urge is igniting within him upon knowing this. Kokushibo thought that people with rare blood are the only ones who can make him feel the excitement of consuming them. But you—you are awakening his humanistic urge that is supposed to be long forgotten.

Being a demon, Kokushibo did not think that it was possible for him to feel any sexual urge, especially, toward a human. For demons, humans are nothing but food and power source. Yet when your scent penetrated his nostrils, a tingling sensation runs through under his skin, and his instincts told him to have you.

Kokushibo unsheaths his fleshy sword from his side. Thinking to himself that after he absorbs you, he'll be back to his usual self—being composed and reserved. In just one slash, he knew he could end your life and he won’t be bothered by his humanistic feelings anymore.

You only became aware of someone else’s presence behind you when you felt a sharp tip pressing at your back. A gasp left your lips and your mind wondered who could it be. Your heart races its beat as you slowly turn your head to see who it is.

A louder gasp escapes from you upon realizing that the person who pointed his sword at you, is in fact, a demon. You tilt your face away to see him, he has three pairs of eyes that can’t go unnoticed by someone. His face has flame markings on the left side of his forehead and on the right side of his chin. He stands tall in front of you and his spiky hair is tied in a ponytail behind his head. He’s wearing a purple kimono with beehive patterns on it and partnered it with black hakama pants that are tied with a white cloth belt on his waist. Somehow, you felt admiration for his majestic features.

“W-Who are you…?” You asked as he pointed his fleshy sword at your face this time. Well, you guess this is where your miserable life ends.

Even as a demon, he’s polite enough to answer your question. “Upper Moon Rank One of Twelve Kizuki,” he saw how your face looks puzzled at what he said, “Kokushibo.” He was a little surprised that you did not run away screaming.

As someone who’s tired of living, you don’t feel scared anymore of getting killed by him. It’s not your wish to spend your time growing old in a world that only gives unfairness to you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t run away,” you said as you get up on your feet, “You can do anything to me. I’ve been ready to throw my life away anyway, Kokushibo.” You flashed him a genuine smile—something you haven’t done in a long time.

Kokushibo’s eyebrows twitch, “Do…anything to her?” He thought as he felt the shivers that run through his body, and the smile that you gave him only made his heart fall. He pointed his sword to your chest and he watches as you anticipated the slash.

You waited with eyes-closed, heartbeat racing but there’s no regret creeping into your chest. Then, you felt the sword swing across your body and the breeze of the night penetrated your skin. Slowly, you opened one eye to see what happened—only to see Kokushibo sheathing his sword back to his side.

When the wind flew again, it felt too cold against your body. Realization slowly sank in you as shredded pieces of clothing swayed in front of your eyes. You look at your body and found yourself…naked.

“I have permission to do anything to you right now,” Kokushibo catches your waist and pulled your naked body closer to his. His face inching closer to your neck and his other hand already caressing one of your breasts.

“A-Aren’t you—hng!” The feeling of his lips kissing lavishly on your neck made you hold off your question. You weren’t aware that a demon like him could be a pervert and would do sexual advances on his prey—this wasn’t what you expected. His sharp nails grazing against your back made you elicit a shuddering breath and caused you to push your chest closer to him.

Kokushibo slathers his tongue from your shoulder blade to your neck and it reaches until the back of your ears. “Your taste is addicting….” He paused upon the realization that he doesn’t know your name.

“Tell me…” Kokushibo pulled your chin to tilt your head and made you look at him, “...your name, human.”

“_______,” you answered without hesitation as you hold onto his shoulders and felt your heart flutter at his compliment. Your naked body presses close to him and you can feel a hard tent poking on your thigh.

“_______,” Kokushibo repeated as if your name is something he won’t ever want to forget. His hands ran all over your body as his mouth started working on your neck again. Your scent and taste against Kokushibo’s senses are enough to make him moan. He ran his fangs on the veins of your neck and the urge to bite you is so strong but his sexual urge for you is stronger.

The feeling of Kokushibo’s lips against your skin is ticklish and sensual, both feelings are something you never had before from someone else. You felt your body being guided to lay down on the grass where your shredded clothes are. As soon as your back hits the ground, Kokushibo hovers on top of you and seizes your lips.

“Hmng!” The sudden kiss caught you off-guard, making it hard to respond as his tongue invades your mouth. You can only release puffs of air and let him eagerly suck on your tongue—the sensation is electrifying.

Kokushibo keeps himself busy as he savors your taste in your mouth, not really minding all the saliva he’s been slurping from you. It has been so long since he ever kissed someone and he’s well aware that not even with his wife from before time, had awakened a such desire he’s been feeling for you. He doesn’t want to stop and his tongue pushes deep into your mouth—nearly reaching your throat.

You almost choked and your eyes filled with tears as you find it hard to breathe. With all the strength that you have, you pushed him away and moaned, “Ko-Kokushibo…”

There’s a trickle of saliva on the side of his mouth as he pulled away and the way you moaned his name made him feel a throb in his aching length. Kokushibo wiped off your stained cheek with his cold hand as gently as he could. He’s feeling too much ache between his legs that his clothing is making him feel more uncomfortable.

You watch as Kokushibo undress between your legs, he has pale skin but a muscular body, and your eyes were interrupted from lowering down your gaze when he hoists your legs in his arms. The dripping of your arousal in between your legs is being reflected by the moonlight, and the embarrassment snaps in you as Kokushibo leans in closer to your wetness.

Kokushibo inhales deep your arousal scent—too inviting for him. He felt your hips squirming away in shyness but he had no problem firming his hold on your thighs. His hands spread your wetness open and his sharp nails dug into your inner thighs at the sight of your tight hole. Every breath that he takes is heavy as he keeps himself in control.

You started to feel more embarrassed and insecure as Kokushibo stay in a daze with your virgin hole. But, every puff of air from his mouth feels too hot against your wetness that it’s taking effect on you too. Your soft hand reaches for his hand that’s holding into your inner thigh, “What’s… wrong?”

“I want to taste what’s dripping from you here,” Kokushibo’s knuckles caresses your folds and gently prod your clit unconsciously.

Before you could answer, you felt his flat tongue lathering on your wetness back and forth. The tip of his tongue rubbed on your clit and licking on your slit—causing your legs to spread further apart. Your hands hold onto his head as Kokushibo let himself drown in your wetness, and your voice sounds high and lewd from the sensation.

Kokushibo’s mouth works with hunger and your arousal coating even his chin as he pushes his tongue inside you. He slurps loudly and sucked on the nub his mouth had found—causing your legs to tremble against his hold.

“Ahhh~!!” You cried out in pleasure as you tug on his hair, “Kokushibo~! Your tongue—haa~!!”

The way you pulled his hair is not having any effect on Kokushibo, it only made him groan against your clit, as his tongue penetrates your insides. He can feel the soft pleats of your insides squeezing around the wet muscle of his mouth.

The further his tongue reaches inside you, the closer you felt yourself convulsing. Your legs shake around his head and your body gave in to the newfound ecstasy. You came undone in his mouth and your insides wetter than ever.

Kokushibo gulped all the secretions left in his mouth and he stare down at your heavily breathing state. He presses his shaft on your abused clit and you flinch away in sensitiveness. He had to hold your hips still as he started penetrating your tight insides.

You whined at the sensation of getting stretched apart, he felt hard inside you, and it feels impossible to take all of him. The brush of his pulsating veins in your slick walls is making your eyes roll in the back of your head.

“I can’t— ‘s too much.”

Kokushibo pulled your body up on his lap, to help you sink on him as he was just halfway in, “Don’t run away from me, _______.”

You felt his hands on your ass and your body swiftly pushed down to his length. You let out a cry of his name and felt a searing pain as you fully take him inside you. Tears freely fell from your eyes as you feel the pain—his length feels too hard and your insides still adjusting from his wide girth.

"Please..." You can feel the sting in your eyes as tears continue to trickle down and stain your cheeks, "Stop... Please, stop."

Unbeknownst to both of you, spots of blood from your torn hymen are freely dripping from your joined bodies together and staining the ground.

"I can't.” Kokushibo started to thrust, “This can't be over now, _______."

You cried out louder and had to bite on his shoulder to distract yourself from the pain. Your teeth sink into his pale skin and your fingertips scratch his back, as Kokushibo keeps your body moving on top of him.

Kokushibo groaned internally as he felt you bit on his skin… and he almost prayed to a god just to keep the mark that you made. But, it wasn’t possible, his healing ability already made your bite vanish.

“Kokushibo,” you sniffled on the crook of his neck.

“It will feel better, _______,” Kokushibo kisses your shoulder blade and continue to gently guide your hips in moving. He couldn’t focus on feeling the pleasure as you cry, but he knew that he couldn’t stay still as your insides grip on his length too hard.

Your insides adjusted fully as he keeps thrusting, soon enough, the pain you were feeling was replaced by a ticklish yet sensual sensation. You can feel that it became easier to take him in as you move above him, and your voice lets out erotic moans.

Kokushibo has his six eyes closed as he lets you move on your own, the pleasure in his body is getting stronger and stronger. His hands squeeze on your soft ass and his sharp nails unconsciously left scratch marks on your skin, due to his eagerness. He’s letting out deep groans and sighs as he lets himself be consumed by the pleasure.

You felt like a knot is getting twisted inside you and the more you move, the tighter it gets. “Kokushibo~ Hnngh!”

Kokushibo caresses your face after hearing his name, your face distorts beautifully for him as the pleasure intoxicates you. He wrapped one arm around your waist and move his hips, taking the lead with speed. He can feel your nipples brushing against his face as he bounces you on top of him.

Your hold on his shoulders tightens and it’s hard to keep yourself steady. You couldn’t think straight as the pleasure gets in your head. You felt your body giving up as another wave of surprise orgasm surged throughout your body.

Kokushibo felt your insides squeeze around him repeatedly—forcing him to pull out. He felt your body falls on him and your ragged breathing is apparent. He took in a deep breath, he had almost reached his high, and he intended to pursue it.

You felt being flipped to your back and Kokushibo from behind is pushing his shaft inside you again. A loud whine escaped your lips as you feel being full again, and he felt bigger in the new position. Your legs already shaking as soon as he started to thrust.

“Kokushibo~!! Unghh!!” Your hands gripping the grass and making marks on the ground as you take in his pounding. This time, he felt forceful and relentless—as if chasing something.

Kokushibo’s mind got clouded by the pleasure that he’s spitting out a proposal near your ear in between his moans, “Let’s live together, ________.” He moaned deliciously again, “Live together with me.”

Without thinking about it, “Yes! Kokushibo, yes~!!”

Maybe it was the pleasure you’re feeling that took your sense of logic away, but you know you won’t regret the choice you made.

Kokushibo dragged his hips once more before unloading thick strings of his warm cum and it painted your narrow insides white. All of his kept seeds bursting out inside you and making you full—literally overwhelming your womb.

You can still feel Kokushibo pumping inside you and your body could only take in all that he gave. Eyes rolling at the back of your head, hands gripping the ground, and your voice sounding lewd can be heard from a far distance.

Kokushibo stared at your limp state, while his desire is barely satiated. He took you in his arms and brushed away the strands of your hair from your face, “Take my blood and I’ll keep you, _______.”

You obliged. Finally, you have found someone who wanted you.

Before sunrise, you and Kokushibo are off to spend the rest of your demon life together. Leaving your shredded clothes on the ground and pieces of evidence of you losing your virginity. The marks on the ground and the spots of blood from where you were last night were founded by a man who’s out to fish in the river.

Since then, a legend of how you disappeared arises in your town based on the traces that you left. People believed that you were eaten by a demon as it was your fate for being unmarriable.

The legend of your disappearance was told to many young girls through generations and they feared having the same fate as you.

[runningfrom2am]

the death of a doctor // LTPF

summary: with the snow heir on the way, your first son, your father wants to meet with you for the first time in years. your husband is not going to let that happen.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. use of poison with intent to kill, murder. also this takes place ten years after they returned to the capitol!

series masterlist // playlist

Your father is led through the extensive halls of the Presidential Mansion and out to the back gardens, into the rose garden where he is set to meet with you. Finally.

He's not met with you, and he should have anticipated that. His daughter, pregnant with her first child- a little boy, who should one day be heir to the President's fortune, born into a life of success and indulgences beyond imagination. Instead, he only sees his son-in-law.

"Please, take a seat." Coriolanus offers to him, a welcoming smile on his face as he gestures to the small tea table in the middle of the space. It was a fake smile, of course. Your father has seen it on the television or at events hundreds of times, but Coriolanus Snow would always try to be a good host- regardless of how much he loathed the guest in question.

"Thank you." Your father matches his polite grin, nodding to him before taking a seat. His eyes scan the greenhouse, taking in the abundance of roses and the patches of raspberry bushes that line the walls.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Coryo says proudly, carefully plucking one of the white roses from its stem to place in the centre of the tea table. "My wife takes good care of this garden, it's in honour of my Grandmother. They both love roses." He explains, not giving your father any chance to answer.

"It's lovely." He nods in agreement, watching as his son-in-law places the blooming flower in a vase on the table, sitting down himself and looking at your father expectantly. "Where is she?" Your father decides to get right to the point- no use dancing around it anymore.

"She's out." Coriolanus answers. "She's with Tigris. They're picking out colours for the nursery today."

"I was told I would be able to speak to her."

"I am capable of passing on a message."

Your father sighs, looking down and shaking his head. "Coriolanus, I appreciate everything you have done for my daughter over the years, I do, but that girl needs her family. Her parents. Especially right now. We just want to be able to support her during such an exciting and scary time."

"She has a family." Coryo defends quickly. He had never thought the situation to be scary, before. It was all excitement and parties and baby clothes and being together and enjoying the moments in which she carried his child. Suddenly, he's seeing it differently. His mother. His sister who was never even given a name. You were not free from that fate. He clears his throat. "And I assure you, she is well taken care of here. We have the best medical care the country offers available at the snap of my fingers." He says it more to remind himself.

"No, she doesn't." Your father argues, a smug smile tugging on his lips. She doesn't have him. The most renowned and desired doctor in the Capitol, in the country.

"She does." Coryo insists. "I know what you are implying, and I promise you are mistaken."

"I just want to make things right, Coriolanus." Your father adds. "I want to apologize so my wife can be there for the birth of her grandchild, so I can take good care of my daughter and ensure she is safe."

"She is safe."

Your father clocks the tenseness in your husbands jaw very quickly. "I know about your mother." His tone drops to make space for a fake form of empathy. "I knew her. She was an amazing woman and a wonderful mother. It's such a shame, what happened..." He ticks his head. "So easily preventable."

"Then where were you?" Coriolanus allows himself to lean into something more personal with the bitter question.

"I wasn't called. I wish I had been." Your father answers honestly. "Both of us know your family was in no position to pay for a doctor at the time, even with your father away working himself to death in Twelve."

Coryo chews on the inside of his cheek, looking down at the untouched drinks in between them.

"Maybe things would have ended differently for all of us."

"You speak as if you are some kind of angel." Coryo scoffs. "You still would have gone home from saving my mother and sister and beat your own daughter for being up past her bedtime, but you didn't come because my mother's life was worth nothing to you if you weren't going to be paid to save it." He picks up the teacup in front of him, taking a sip before removing it from his lips and looking down at the liquid. "My apologies, this one is yours. I asked for milk in mine." He says casually, carefully switching the cups. He can see it in your father's eyes he wants to fight with him on this.

"The war made it impossible to do any unpaid work, and like I said, I wasn't made aware of your mother's state. Besides, Y/N is my child, and you know nothing of what goes into being a parent. It is hard. You'll have moments of poor judgement and do things you will regret. You will make mistakes. That is all it was to me." Your father explains. "But I know better now. All I want is to help her."

"You don't want to help her." Coryo shakes his head. "I am telling you she has all the help she needs, and you are not needed. Your wife and son will be allowed in the mansion during the birth. It is my wife's choice when and if they will be allowed to see the child." He knew you would allow it, you occasionally had lunch with your mother and your brother found himself at the mansion quite often to use their library. They were welcome, he was not.

Your father takes a sip of his tea while he processes the information. "Is that her decision, or yours?"

"Like I said, I can pass on a message to her." Your husband replies, ignoring his question and popping one of the raspberries from the plate into his mouth and sitting back, hands placed patiently on his lap while he ignores the pain starting to bloom in his chest.

"Tell her..." Your father sighs. "That we love her, and we miss her dearly. And if she needs anything or feels unsafe, she can always come home."

"Unsafe?" Coryo asks, tilting his head with a slight, humourless laugh. "I know you don't care for me, sir, but I am the last person on this planet who would do anything to harm her. It seems you're not understanding that."

"I just want her to survive." Your father spits. "If you love her the way you say you do, don't you want her to be the one to successfully produce your heir? You would hate to have to find someone else, I know you would. Especially if the love of your life died in the same way as your mother, this time taking your child with her."

Coriolanus stands up abruptly, anger coursing through his veins alongside the poison as the chair slides back behind him. "You've never believed in her. Ever. Even now you assume that at the most natural struggle she will die. This is not about my doctors, it is about your ego and how little you respect your own child because of how you raised her. She has more fight in her than any woman I have ever met. You don't even know the extent of it."

"It's because I know her, Coriolanus. I..." Your father's voice trails off and he looks down at his shaking hands. He knows what Coriolanus has done, but there's nothing he can do to save himself now.

"You don't know her. You never have." Coryo argues. "You have never once reached out except to try and leach off of her success and my name. You couldn't care less if she lives or dies- you just want to be the one to deliver a royal baby. If you knew her, you would know that the last thing in the world she wants is to ever see you again."

He watches as your father's face goes ashen, the sentience behind his eyes disappearing. It brings a smile to his face. "You are a monster." He adds, and it's the last thing your father hears before he dies right there in your garden.

Coriolanus smiles in satisfaction, raising his hand and snapping for his security and his nurse to enter. Quickly, she reaches for his arm as he already rolled up his sleeve and she can inject the antidote.

"Dispose of him." He urges the security team, quickly pulling his red coat sleeve back over the injection site in his arm. "My wife will be home soon, this would be distressing for her. I need her as calm and comfortable as possible."

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[rioagatha]

bleeding for the vampire

pairing: vampire!sofia falcone gigante x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smut (near middle to end), spoilers to episode 5, spoilers to episode 4 (backstory and how you first met Sofia), insecurity, mentions of misogyny & patriarchy, mentions of death, mentions of Arkham, slight homophobia, slight possessive themes, biting, blood drinking, fingering, clit rubbing, fluff w/ Sofia near the end (aftercare), use of pet names (bellissima and amore)

Summary: After the events of Johnny's death to Sofia's rise with her new empire, Sofia finally has her time with you.

Word count: 1.8k+

After a long day of Sofia's business, she finally has time to make up for you— her most precious love. Sofia had a new family, a new empire, she was no Falcone anymore, but a Gigante. Taking up her mother's maiden name, following her legacy that the Falcones never wanted to see.

You've met Sofia back when she and her father were still doing the Isabella Falcone Foundation, attending a few of the charity events. That was the sweet Sofia you knew, ten years before she lived in living hell due to her father. Sofia was the most beautiful woman you've seen. Her brown doe eyes were your favorite, maybe the second most favorite after she showed her fangs that she was insecure about. Sofia trusts you so much to the point she felt obsessed about you.

"I inherited this trait from my mother, I hate it how I look with them, but Alberto says it's what makes me unique." Sofia opened her mouth to point to her fangs. “Perhaps I even inherited all the vampire bullshit the movies show, the healing saliva and turning people into vampires.”

"It's not a bad trait in my opinion, it just— It makes me like you more. I agree with what Alberto said, it makes you look unique, and that's not a bad thing at all." You spoke in slight astonishment as you moved in closer to admire her canines. Sofia then closed her mouth after giving you a few seconds to see them. “Who knows? One day maybe you’ll find out if they’re true.”

Fortunately, Carmine liked you enough to the point he welcomed you to the rest of the Falcones. Although, the first time when Sofia introduced you to him, he was skeptical, like any other parent. Not because if you were going to treat her right, it’s because you were a woman. Carmine did try to talk sense to Sofia about it, but Sofia still loved you no matter what. Women should be able to love other women without being judged. That was something she told her father, but of course Carmine eventually did give the go for you to continue loving his daughter. The one other person you really talked to in the family was Alberto, Sofia’s brother. Overall, you did notice how the family treats its women within the family. Say for example, it's obvious that there's misogyny and it's shown by action— yet nobody dared to speak up about that.

During that time, you saw on the news about some victims who allegedly were hanged, it was a pretty popular topic around Gotham. Nobody knew who the killer was, until that one night in the Falcone mansion, that was the location that ticked the bomb off. That night was when Carmine was celebrating his birthday with a ton of guests in the building, including you. At thay time, you were talking with Sofia and her cousin, Carla, spilling the tea about how Lucas has a new wife.

Then a few minutes later, you overheard Oz talking to Sofia about how her father wanted to talk. Sofia excused herself from you and Carla as she made her way to Carmine's office, that was probably one of the last times you would see Sofia. Because after that talk, Sofia dragged you out of the place to take you and herself to Oz so he could drive you two home. Why did she do that? You weren't sure at the time, but there were pieces of the puzzle missing to form the bigger image.

The one moment you remembered the most was when Oz had to pull over due to the GCPD. The officers forced Sofia out and arrested her for the 7 murders of the hanged victims. Your heart stopped. Sofia wouldn’t do anything like that, never. Everything happened so quick, you tried to rush to Sofia, but the officers pulled you back. All the screams, all the horror, the night you don’t wish for again.

Learning the fact that she had to go to Arkham was the most horrifying part. That place was a hell hole, that place can make you go insane and make you be something you never wanted.

Back to the present, you stood at the window in the war room of the mansion, staring out the beautiful night sky. Without any notice of Sofia, you just began to zone out until you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your waist. The familiar scent of Sofia— smoke and the perfume she usually wore wafts your nostrils. Her nose pressed against your neck as she took in the smell of you.

"I'm so tired of men trying to take control, especially in the family. Having this new empire, a new mantle, is something that I would have done sooner rather than later." Sofia cuts the silence with her smooth and precise voice.

When she said that, you thought of the moment when Johnny got shot by her. He may have been "useful," but he contributed to the shit Carmine did. Johnny wasn't worth it. The men that sat around the table hogged all the cash Sofia offered, even with Johnny's blood in the way. Sofia needed a new family, and she got it.

Sofia nibbles the skin on your neck to stop you from daydreaming. As you bring yourself back to reality, Sofia begins to pepper you with her desperate kisses. Her fangs scratched the surface of your skin, creating soft red streaks— that's when you know Sofia is hungry.

Her left hand grips the side of your neck as she forces you to tilt your head, giving her access to your most vulnerable part of the body.

"Need you so bad, can't a girl get a reward for becoming the new boss of the family?" Sofia whispered down your neck as she stared at your flesh.

"Sof, you know you'll always get a reward, no?" You spoke to hopefully encourage Sofia to bite your neck. After all, you want her to be satisfied after a long day. When she found sense of your words, she nuzzled into your neck once again— right before she went straight to biting your neck. Sinking her sharp canines deep, making sure you bleed for her. Your blood flows into her mouth as she saviors the metallic taste. Pressing harder, your heart rate hikes up slightly when Sofia wanted to draw more blood.

“Relax, bellissima, I always make sure I don’t go to the point where I could kill you.” Sofia withdraws from your neck as she lets a small amount of your blood gush out. "Besides, even if you do die, at least I would have you all to myself."

She dived back down to lap up the liquid, moaning at the fact that she was the only person who was aloud to drink your blood. In the midst of thinking, Sofia slurps up the remaining pools of blood before sinking her fangs back into the wound she made.

You let out a small groan when you felt the same sting from the first bite. Sofia was absolutely mesmerized with drinking your blood, trying to quench her empty stomach. To make you feel better, Sofia hikes up your skirt and slides her cold right hand up your inner thigh. The coldness makes you shiver, but it makes you anticipate for her. While her hand found your panties, she could care less and ripped the pair off— tossing them to the ground. You could feel Sofia’s fingers tease your pussy as she toys with.

“What a pretty pussy, I’m glad that it’s mine. Already so wet, all because of me.” Sofia murmured as she took her time with you. She inserts two fingers into your tight cunt, thrusting with a fast pace. Knowing her, Sofia loved fucking you senseless. Sofia removed her left hand from the side of your neck, which she helped support when she drank your blood.

She slid her left hand down to rub your clit, to add extra pleasure, and to make you cum faster for her. You let out moans and whines as she continued her assault on you. Sofia pressed herself to your back more, continuing to work her magic by fucking your needy cunt and rubbing your overstimulated bud with her other hand.

As you felt the increasing need to cum, Sofia added an extra finger in your pussy, but she never stopped her pace. Therefore, you dug your nails into her hand that rubbed your clit. Creating small but beautiful crescent moon dents as a mark. This spurred on Sofia as she sucked on your wound, and to hear your heart race when you're just this close.

"Come on, amore, I know that you would be willing to cum for me. Not like you can't resist anyways." Sofia kept egging you on until you eventually give in and give what you both want.

Then, you did give in. Your walls clenched around her fingers as Sofia continued to slowly pump her fingers to help you through your orgasm. Now you were a panting mess, but at least you both were satisfied. Sofia moved her head back as her fangs were no longer in your neck. The puncture wound lightly bled still, but she kept licking and kissing it until it stopped the bleeding for the moment. Following after that action, Sofia removed her fingers from your cunt to bring them to her lips. Giving them a good clean and most importantly— to relish the taste of you. It was quite a meal for her, your cum and your blood mixed together was surely a good combo.

"You did so good for me. Let me carry you to my room so you can rest." Sofia spoke softly as she spun you around so you can meet her gaze. She lowered down to grab your legs and used her other arm to support your back. Lifting you up into her arms and then carrying you in a bridal style. Sofia loves to spoil you after sex whenever she's in a good mood.

Sofia walked into her room as she dropped you onto the bed and then removed her mother's fur coat to place it on you. The coat was a symbol of power to Sofia, since it once belonged to her mother. She then sat on the bed next to you, bringing her lips to your temple to kiss it.

"I'll be back, I just have to find Sal and then end this family war for our sake. When I return, I'll treat you with a warm bath." Sofia nuzzled against your temple before pulling away from you to eye at your healing wound on your neck. Turning away from you to change her outfit and walking away to do her business. You know that both Sofia and Sal want to kill Oz, after everything he did to Sal's family and betraying Sofia repeatedly.

[atsulovee]

✧ ─ · · KINKTOBER DAY TWO !! · · ─ ✧

To Thee, My Eternal Love

Knife play - Vampire!Dazai x Fem!Reader ➻❥ content warnings: blood, threat of bodily harm and mutilation, implied kidnapping, slight yandere!dazai, period typical misogyny (early 1800s), mentioned abuse. ➻❥ word count: 2.2k ➻❥ notes: this one specifically made me glad i put a 3.5k cap on my word count for kinktober lol. i kept catching myself getting way too wordsy so i had to cut a lot of unneeded stuff.

"The red moon hung heavy in the sky, consuming and tearing every little star in its light. Your husband was slotted between your legs, one hand keeping you leg on his hip and the other pointing the silver dagger at your esophagus. Like the old renaissance paintings of the devil, Dazai was handsome."

“To thee, my eternal love,

Even from so far, I hear the lovely beat of your heart, the alluring race of your pulse. Each night as I wake, your beating heart is all I care to listen for. I have not seen the sun in centuries, nor heard the call of morning roosters, but when the heat of your blood is my replacement, I find I do not mind. 

My beautiful mortal darling, as ephemeral as the petals of a spring flower. I, they call a vampire, a forager of blood, but it is beauty that I seek. Under the cover of darkness, near the churchyard, was when I found you. A muse, an angel, sitting at a grave. So young, so beautiful. I just could not bear letting your beauty be marred and restrained by the common village folk. I knew then you walked in a murky world- one that no one else could understand. You’re far too slight for such burdens. I would carry the world for you, slaughter villages, burn down whomever you ask. It was time to strike, for love could not wait. You fought, and you cried, relieved to be rid of mortal plights. 

I am not the monster you wish to believe I am. My undead heart has not beat in centuries- however, when I am with you, I feel the faintest tremors of a pulse. I’ll live a long time yet, my dear, and I could not bear an eternity without you. The day you die will be the day I’m destined to wander this world more helpless and alone than I have ever been. I’ll call your name to the moon at night, knowing there will be no answer.

And that is why I must never let you pass on from this world. 

Your Darling, Dearest, Dead, Osamu Dazai.”

. . .

To be the perfect doll is to be quiet, docile, and moldable. To be a wife is to be the same. A delicate puppet on silk strings, meant to be taken care of, meant to bend to every will and whim of their man. 

Cursed with your womb, you are all but a fully autonomous person in the eyes of the masses. A woman in the early 1800s has one duty to her family- marry young and above your social standing. Never step a foot out of line and never pull at your own strings. 

You were his- irrevocably, incredibly, dangerously his. Dazai had long made sure of that. 

His hand clasps your own and pins it above your head, a silent command from him to listen as you lie on the satin sheets. In a flurry, your hair splayed across the bed like a halo as blood red light filled the room. To Dazai, you were the light of heaven he was destined to never see. A gift from a God that despised him- perhaps to make up for His transgressions. 

Dazai’s deep, steady breaths puffed against your neck, even as his narrow hips pressed flush against yours. “My darling…” He sighs, never once blinking. Dazai couldn’t stand the idea of taking his eyes off of you for even a second. Each moment, each minute, each hour was so special, so precious. Each second that Dazai dared to spend not gazing upon your beauty was a second wasted. You were human still. And you could so easily leave him, slipping away into eternity.

His hips stilled against yours, the tip of his cock gently kissing your cervix. “My darling.” Dazai nearly whines, leaning forward until his chest pressed against yours just so his lips could gently kiss at your pulse point. Your blood was warm, much like the sun he had not seen in decades, and it was sweet just like the food he could no longer taste. “I adore you.”

Dazai was always a desperate, pitiful man. One who longed for things greater than him and shrunk away when his wishes were fulfilled. But you, his dearest human, was one thing he could never shy away from. 

You were lonely tucked away in his home, but you were safe. There was so much beyond his walls that could harm a human and you were simply not allowed to die by anyone’s hand but his own. 

His cold hand drags up your torso, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and up to your chest. You were so warm, Dazai laughed weakly against your neck as he listened to the heavy beat of your heart. He had no need for you to reciprocate his devotions so long as you stayed alive.

“I adore you, my love. You know that.” Dazai resists the urge to sink his fangs into your exposed neck, pulling himself away to stare at the flush on your cheeks. “I haven't felt such joy in either of my lives- undead or otherwise.” He savored every whine and cry that fell from your colored lips as he slammed his hips in and out of your tight hole. 

His nails bit and tore into your skin, letting droplets of your blood stain the sheets below. You hiccuped and cried every night when he took you to bed, but you no longer fight like you once had. It was a pity, really. Dazai thought you looked especially cute as you kicked and squirmed, trying to fight an inhuman being away. 

You tilt your head to the side, sniffling as Dazai holds you by your hips, forcing you to feel every thick inch as he plunges into you with an obscenely wet noise. Your strangled gasp meshes into a hiss as he punches the air out of your lungs with each thrust.

“Look at me.” Dazai whispers, grabbing your chin and pulling your face towards him. His voice is soft and sweet, a gentle breeze against your lips. But his smile is wide and his grip is bruising. When you fail to raise your eyes, he pulls your hips towards him harshly, forcing you to feel his cock in your stomach. “I will not ask you again.” It’s only when you feel the familiar blade of his dagger pressing against your throat that you dare look at him. 

Crimson light spills into the room like it was a flood. The red moon hung heavy in the sky, consuming and tearing every little star in its light. Your husband was slotted between your legs, one hand keeping you leg on his hip and the other pointing the silver dagger at your esophagus. Like the old renaissance paintings of the devil, Dazai was handsome. In the light, his brown eyes seem to glow mahogany. A horrible, horrible gaze as you don’t dare avert your eyes again.

After a moment, as he studies the look on your face, the resignation, Dazai smiles though he does not lower his blade. “There we go. I missed those pretty eyes, my love. I don’t like when you ignore me.”

As Dazai starts to move his hips once more, he drags his blade down from your throat to in between your breasts and down your sternum.

“You do know why I must keep you here, right?” He begins. “It’s not because I’m cruel and enjoy watching you suffer. There is just so much in the world that could harm you.” Dazai’s pelvis kisses yours each time he pulls out just to stuff you full once again. His thrusts are merciless and rough, one hand planted firmly on your hip, pulling you down on his cock each time he rams it in as the other points his dagger at your heart. “Just as easily as I keep you alive, I could kill you. Isn’t that terrifying?”

His voice is eerily calm and steady, even as wet squelches, gasps, and hisses fill the air. Each thrust muddies your thoughts, filling your mind with nothing but the dopamine of pleasure. It was hard to think, much less hate the man in front of you when he fucked in a way no human could. Then, he sinks the knife into your chest just slightly, enough to split the skin and let small streaks of red make their way down your skin. 

Instinctively, you squirm and whine, desperate to move away as your mind screamed danger but his dagger did not move. It felt like each shuddering inhale and hiccuping exhale would only drive the silver blade further into your chest.

“Calm down.” He mutters, moving the blade from the shallow wound as Dazai leaned down to lie his forehead against yours. He dragged it down your stomach, stopping just above where your womb would rest. “I have no intention to kill you, and you know that. If I had, I would’ve done so long ago. What poor excuse of a husband would ever murder such a darling wife?”

You knew, had learned months ago, what a monster your husband really was. You had made one attempt at escape and you knew to never try such a thing again. Dazai was cruel and vicious with his victims- the poor, innocent people he fed from, but he was so much worse with his love. 

His smile pulled tight as he looked down at you. He had intentions of giving you a second chance only once, if his beloved dared to defy him once more… The night would end with your shared bed soaked in blood as your corpses held one another.

Stakes don’t kill vampires, he had told you that night as he dabbed at the wounds he had inflicted upon you, bloody and weeping. That’s just a silly story that weak humans came up with to make themselves feel stronger. However, silver- something so pure and holy, is just the thing to do the trick. 

“You’re sick.” Your voice wobbles, thick and cracking as your eyes glare up at his. “The only reason you haven’t killed me is because I’m cattle to you.”

“Is that so?” He smiles, stabbing the dagger into the pillow next to your head. Dazai huffs with effort, gritting his teeth, letting his fangs click and clash together as he works open your cunt. “Will you do it, then? Will you try to kill your shepherd? This is the only chance you’ll ever get, darling.”

You spat at him, face flushed red in a way his no longer could, despite the drool wetting your bruised lips. Your rich blood mixed with sweat, streaking down your chest- the mounds bouncing as Dazai grinned.

“Just look at you…” He croons, hand that once held the dagger coming to grip your chin once more. His hand held you with such force, you could see the way his arms flexed. Your once soft skin was marred and littered with blacks, purples, and yellows- with puncture marks from when he had not felt like finding another victim to terrorize. “So precious. I should carve out your womb. No human man would ever want you, then. Even if by some chance of fate, you escape from my clutches, there is not a single person on this earth that will ever consider having you know that you’ve been defiled by me.”

“You’re vile.” You hiss, voice weak and strained. You wanted nothing more than to push your captor away, to reject his advances but such luxuries were fantasy so long as you wanted to live. You clasp your hand over your mouth as Dazai delivers a particularly hard thrust into your cunt, shutting you up. 

Dazai groans, his hand falling away as his desperate thrusts speed up. “I know.” He drawls, “I know. And that’s why I want you. Why I need you.” Dazai pants into your ear, the hot breath contrasting sharply to his cold skin- the chill running down your spine and pushing you closer to him. “Because I’m vile and you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He groans, rolling his hips into yours inch by inch, with the depravity and viciousness of a beast. Desperation ached inside of his bones like a disease, burning and boiling with each thought of you. Dazai loved you so much, he wanted to keep you to himself forever. Wanted to kill you to preserve your memory. Wanted to turn you to make sure he’ll never be alone again. 

As you tilted your head back, walls fluttering around him, he takes his place with his lips on your neck once more. Gently, as he had done a thousand times before, his fangs punctured the delicate flesh. Warm, rich blood pooled into his mouth- only a single drop escaping him. 

Dazai’s thrusts speed up as he gasps, pulling back with bloodied lips. He could barely control himself on the best of days, he’d drain you in but a moment. Each movement made Dazai crave more, the lava pooling in his gut addictive and sweet.

It felt like his cock was molding its shape in your core, truly claiming you as his in the most vile, animalistic way. Everything felt raw, sensitive to the touch. You could barely think, barely breathe with how thoroughly the vampire was drilling your aching cunt. Overwhelmed tears drip off your flushed cheeks as your own incisor threatens to split your lip.

“I need you by my side, my love.” Dazai sighs, kissing down from your temple until he finds the still pulsing wound on your neck. “And so, I must never let you pass on.”

Once more, his fangs find their way into your neck and once more do you feel the gentle cold taking over your body.

➛ wanna join my kinktober taglist?

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[novaursa]

The Gods Are Cruel (and so is he)

- Summary: Maegor always thought of you. Even when you were convinced he had forgotten you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Note: This story captures Maegor's inner struggle and events before Fire and Blood.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

For as long as Maegor can remember, you have been the one thing denied to him. He’s conquered kingdoms, brought men to their knees, and ruled with the iron will of a dragon. But he cannot have you. His own father, King Aegon, forbade it. “She’s your niece, Maegor. There are limits, even for us.” As if the blood of the dragon were not meant to twist and coil upon itself, strengthening the line.

You’re the second-born daughter of Aenys, the weakling king who, even now, sits the Iron Throne in pitiful splendor. His half-brother’s mewling reign grates on Maegor’s nerves, but it’s the distance between you that fuels his rage. You’re imprisoned on Dragonstone, hidden away like a relic too precious to behold. And for what? To preserve your innocence? To keep you untouched by his flame?

His hand tightens around Blackfyre’s hilt as he recalls the way you looked at him, the first time your eyes truly met. You were but a girl then, your hair falling in soft waves of silver down your back, your eyes wide with awe and fear. A look that has haunted him ever since, seeping into his dreams, twisting his desires into something darker, more dangerous. He dreams of you, night after night, your body beneath his, your mouth forming his name like a prayer. You, the one thing he cannot have, the one thing he would raze cities to possess.

And yet, you are kept from him. Aenys has you guarded like a treasure, a pawn in his political games. The gods themselves conspire against him, placing you always just out of reach. He has seen you only in glimpses now, from across the court or from the back of his dragon, Balerion, circling above Dragonstone like an unholy sentinel.

What do you think of him? He wonders, in the quiet of his chambers, when even the echoes of war fall silent. Do you fear him, as the rest do? Or do you feel it too—the pull between you, the force that binds your fates as surely as dragonfire and blood?

His first wife, Ceryse, lies cold and untouched in his bed, her barren womb a constant reminder of the child he was never meant to sire with her. He took her as duty demanded, but his heart—and his loins—have always belonged to you. A woman he could mold, could teach, could keep. In his darkest thoughts, he imagines how your skin would feel under his hands, how your breath would catch as he whispered your name. Y/N.

Does your heart beat faster when you think of him? Do you lie awake at night, wondering if he’s thinking of you, too? You must. You have to. Because if you don’t, what is left for him? What can satiate this unquenchable thirst that rages through him, consuming him like wildfire?

The gods mock him with every breath you take beyond his reach. They have shackled him to a woman who cannot bear him heirs, as if to deny him the legacy he was born to create. They have put you on Dragonstone, behind walls and guards and duty, as if they think any of that could hold him back forever. But he will have you. His father’s wishes, Aenys’ weakness, the gods themselves—none of it matters. You belong to him.

In his mind, he sees the two of you, alone in the Dragonmont, the heat of the beasts around you only heightening the fever that pulses through his veins. He would take you there, make you his in every way, his hands on your skin, your nails in his back. The thought is almost unbearable in its intensity. But it is only a dream, a hollow mockery of what he craves.

He remembers the song you played once, in the Red Keep, your fingers dancing over the strings of a harp. It was a haunting melody, something about love and death entwined, the lyrics slipping from your lips like smoke. It was not for him—you hadn’t even known he was there—but he felt the words like a dagger in his chest. The horror of his love. A love that destroys, that devours. And yet, he would have it no other way.

You are the one thing that could calm his rage, and the one thing that stokes it to an inferno. He could burn the world for you, if it meant seeing you by his side, wearing his crown, carrying his children. He would destroy anyone who stands in his way, even the gods themselves. Because you are his, and he is yours, no matter how high the walls they build between you.

The gods are cruel. But so is he. And he is patient. For now.

But not forever.

Exile is a bitter draught, and Maegor tastes its poison on his tongue every day. Here, across the Narrow Sea, he is surrounded by false smiles and sharper knives, an unwelcome guest in a land that does not know the fire of dragons. He is supposed to be broken, he thinks. This was Aenys' intent—to crush his spirit, to strip him of power and keep him from you. It should have worked.

But Maegor is not so easily broken.

Every day he is here, he feels you slipping further away, like water through his fingers. Every day, the distance grows, a chasm that he fears even a dragon’s wings could not cross. You must think him weak now, to have been cast aside, to have failed in taking what is rightfully his. Do you believe the stories? That he is a monster, a madman, unworthy of the blood in his veins?

He paces the halls of this foreign stronghold, his mind churning with thoughts of you, of the night they took you from him. He had almost had you, his hand outstretched, your name a growl on his lips, when Aenys’ guards pulled you away, your eyes wide with something he cannot name. Fear? Betrayal? Desire?

Aenys had raged at him, his voice trembling with a fury Maegor had never thought his spineless brother capable of. “You will not touch her! Do you hear me, brother? I will not let you taint her with your madness!” As if your purity were some fragile thing, as if you were not a dragon yourself, with fire in your blood.

His exile was swift, the king’s command carried out by his lapdog lords who dared not look Maegor in the eye as they escorted him to the ship, bound for a land that does not know him. Aenys spoke of protecting you, of preserving the fragile peace between the Crown and the Faith. He was terrified of another rebellion, afraid that Maegor’s obsession with you would shatter what little stability he had managed to cling to. The Faith would rise against such a union, scream of abomination and blasphemy, and the weak-willed sheep of Westeros would follow.

And so, Maegor was sent away like a common criminal, the dragon without his fire, the beast without his prey.

But what they do not understand, what even you perhaps cannot see, is that this does not break him. No, this only feeds the flames, stokes the hunger that gnaws at him day and night. In his solitude, he thinks of you, of the way your lips parted when you spoke his name, the tremor in your voice as you told him to stop. And beneath that tremor, beneath the fear, he heard something else—something that made his blood burn and his pulse quicken.

You want him. He knows it, has seen it in your eyes, in the way you cannot help but look at him when you think no one is watching. It is a look he has seen before, in women who knew the danger of wanting a man like him, who knew the risk and were drawn to it all the same. But you—you are not like them. You are his niece, his kin, and that only makes the desire more potent, more twisted.

It is as if the gods themselves crafted you to tempt him, to drive him to madness. They dangle you before him, a prize he cannot claim, and laugh as he claws at the edges of sanity, his mind unraveling with every thought of you. Y/N, the name a whisper on his lips as he dreams, a curse and a prayer all at once. He imagines you as you must be now, cloistered away on Dragonstone, your beauty kept hidden from the world, your spirit shackled by duty and fear.

What do you think of him now, your would-be captor, your would-be king? Do you despise him for his failure, for letting them take him from you? Or do you still dream of him, as he dreams of you, your hands reaching out in the darkness, your voice calling him back across the sea? He would come for you, if he could. He would set fire to this whole wretched land if it meant seeing you again, holding you, tasting the lips that have haunted him for so long.

But no, he is here, caged by exile, by duty, by the very blood that runs through his veins. Aenys thinks this will keep him at bay, that distance and shame will cool his fire. A fool’s hope. Every night, Maegor’s dreams grow darker, his thoughts more twisted, until he no longer knows where desire ends and madness begins.

He thinks of what he would do, if you were here now. How he would take you in his arms, heedless of your protests, your pleas. You would fight him, at first—he knows you would. But he would not stop. He would crush every barrier, break every rule that the world has placed between you, until there is nothing left but the two of you, entwined in a knot of blood and fire and desire. He would teach you what it means to be his, to be bound to him in a way that no one, not Aenys, not the gods themselves, could sever.

And would you love him, then? Would you finally see him for what he is, for what he could be to you? Or would you still fear him, still see him as the monster they have all made him out to be? It does not matter, he tells himself. Love, hate—they are two sides of the same coin, both burning with the same intensity. And he would have either, or both, if it meant having you.

He will not stay here forever. This exile is a cage of straw, and he is a dragon. One day, he will break free, and when he does, he will come for you. No more half-measures, no more hesitant glances and whispered promises. He will take you, as he was meant to, as he was born to. And if the world burns for it, so be it.

The gods think they can keep him from you. But he will show them the folly of trying to chain a dragon. And when he does, he will take back what is his, with fire and blood.

The wine in Pentos is bitter and thin, a poor substitute for the strong, dark vintages of home. Maegor swirls the goblet, his gaze unfocused, the liquid rippling like the storm inside him. He’s been here for what feels like years, a dragon caged, his wings clipped. Exile is a wound that festers, seeping poison into his thoughts, breeding resentment, rage—and longing. Always longing.

He imagines you on Dragonstone, your days spent looking out over the sea, wondering if he’s forgotten you. Do you think him weak for not returning, for letting Aenys and his lapdogs banish him so easily? The thought of your disappointment, your disdain, cuts deeper than any blade. He should be there, should have fought harder, should have…

The door to his chambers bursts open, and his hand flies to Blackfyre’s hilt, the dark thoughts scattering like smoke. But it is no assassin or enemy lord. It is Visenya, his mother, sweeping in like a tempest, her eyes alight with a fire he hasn’t seen in years. For a moment, he thinks he is dreaming. Visenya, the indomitable, the iron queen who shaped him, forged him in the heat of her will and her ambition. The only one who has ever understood him, who has ever truly known him.

“Mother,” he breathes, his voice rough from disuse.

She crosses the room in a few swift steps, her presence as commanding as ever. There is no preamble, no softening of the words that follow. “Aenys is dead.”

The goblet slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor, the wine spilling in a dark pool at his feet. Dead. The weakling king, the half-brother who took everything from him, who caged him in this foreign land and kept you locked away. Dead.

“How?” he asks, his voice a low growl, his mind reeling. This changes everything. The iron bonds of exile shatter in an instant, and all the bitterness, all the rage that has been festering in his heart explodes like wildfire.

“His own weakness killed him,” Visenya says, her lip curling in disdain. “The Faith rose against him, the realm crumbled around him, and he could not hold it together. He was never fit to rule. He left the Seven Kingdoms in chaos.”

And you. What did he leave you with? A kingdom in ruins, a throne contested, and you still locked away, still untouched, still denied to him. Maegor’s blood boils at the thought of it, at the thought of you alone on that bleak island, your beauty hidden from the world, your spirit shackled by a man too weak to protect what was his.

“He is gone,” Visenya continues, her voice hard as steel. “The throne is yours, Maegor. But you must act. The lords will not sit idle; they will scheme and plot and raise their banners for Aenys’ wretched brood. You must return, and you must take what is rightfully yours.”

The throne. The Iron Throne, forged by fire and blood, by the will of their house. But more than that—more than crowns and kingdoms and power—there is you. The promise of you, the dream that has tormented him in the long, empty nights of exile. He sees it all, now, with a clarity that almost blinds him. Aenys is dead, the gods have finally relented, and the path to you is clear.

He rises from his chair, his eyes fixed on Visenya’s face. “And her?” He does not need to speak your name; they both know who he means.

Visenya’s eyes gleam, a predatory smile curling her lips. “You will have her, as it should have been from the start. She is your right, your reward. No one will keep her from you now, not the Faith, not the lords, not even the gods. You will take the throne, and you will take her.”

The words are like a balm, soothing the raw wound of exile, of longing. He sees it now, the vision of what could be, what will be: you, by his side, crowned in Valyrian steel and dragon’s flame, the blood of your enemies soaking the earth at your feet. His queen. His wife. The one thing denied to him, now within his grasp.

Aenys is dead, and with him, the last barrier between Maegor and the life he was meant to have. He will return, he will seize the throne, and he will take you. The thought of it fills him with a fierce, terrible joy. He imagines the look on your face when he storms Dragonstone, when he bursts into your chambers, his eyes wild with the need that has driven him mad for so long. You will fight him, at first, as you must. But he will not be denied. He will make you see, make you understand that you were always his, from the moment you were born.

He thinks of the song you played that day in the Red Keep, the haunting melody that still echoes in his mind. There is horror in our love, the words sang, and yes, there is. There is darkness, and fire, and blood. But there is also something deeper, something that binds you to him in ways you cannot yet fathom. He will show you, when you are his, what it means to love a dragon, to be consumed by the flame and not be burned.

He looks at Visenya, his heart hammering in his chest. “We go to Westeros. We take the throne, and I take her.”

She nods, the fierce pride in her eyes a reflection of his own. “Yes, my son. You will have it all.”

The gods have relented, have finally turned their faces from him and given him what he has craved for so long. The throne, the power, and you. His beautiful, stubborn, untouchable Y/N. No more dreams, no more whispered prayers to uncaring gods. This is destiny, and it will not be denied.

He is coming for you, and nothing—not lords, not priests, not the very heavens themselves—will stop him. You will be his, as you were always meant to be. And if there is horror in it, then let there be horror. Let the world tremble before the fire of his love.

Because he is Maegor, son of Visenya, true heir of Aegon the Conqueror. And he will have what is his.